Bittersweet Farm

Bittersweet Farm

Chronological Snobbery

Filed Under: Current Thoughts

I’ve been thinking about what C. S. Lewis called “Chronological Snobbery.” Chronological Snobbery is the arrogance of measuring every age against our own age. It is the foolish short-sightedness of thinking we are living in the best days of the church. The folly of chronological snobbery is erecting a false standard of Christian vitality and holiness and measuring ourselves against it. We are willing to settle for a thin-soup, weak-tea version of the Christian faith that is not vital enough to triumph over sin and the flesh. The breath of God is not on it. It may entertain or arouse the shallow curiosity of many with its style and but it does not result in holy living and holy dying.

We have aggressive distribution, clever marketing, professional entertainment, moving music, impressive buildings, radio networks, charismatic personalities, and celebrity endorsements. None of these are a substitute for the miraculous power of the Holy Spirit that can radically transform a sinner into a saint of God.

I once heard it said the revival is when the world moves toward the church and apostasy is when the church moves toward the world. Either way the world is in the church. In revival there is holiness in the pulpit and in the pew. In apostasy there is holiness neither in pulpit or the pew.

Our most popular books and preachers cast doubt on the great historic verities of the Christian faith and use the language of the bar room and the pool hall. When my grandfather got saved he was immediately set free from habits that harmed his body. He gave up his old way of talking. He had a new hunger to see other people’s lives changed.

Compare some of the most popular evangelical books with books like, “Hudson Taylor’s Spiritual Secret.” Think about the contemporary pulpit. It is often a place for pop-psychology, comedy routines, and motivational talks with bible verses added. Now– “Google” Spurgeon and just compare. Where is the appeal to the conscience of the sinner? Where is the great proclamation of the glory of the gospel.

Should we be satisfied with religious “business as usual” and settle for a version of Christianity that has little power to free men and women from bondage to sin? Should we really franchise a version of the church that is not pulling a new generation upward to God? Should we endorse a Christianity that cannot produce an army of devoted young men and women who are willing to live above the world? Should we not weep and mourn and grieve that Christianity as we know it in our day is not cementing marriages in life-long love relationships? Should we be proud of the fact that our churches cannot produce strong, stable families?

Were are the men of God, whose hearts are pure and whose lives are honorable? Where are the women of God, holy women who have rejected the lure of the world and devoted themselves to making their homes holy places that forge within them the very character of the nation. Where are the young men who are pure in thought and deed, noble and filled with virtue and courage and holy vision? Where are the young women who are pure in heart and body and hungry for God? Where are the young women who have turned their back on the world and its foolishness and distanced themselves from its shallow, sensual, godlessness? Where are the young ladies like Amy Carmichel, Gladys Alward, Ann Judson, and Sarah Edwards?

May God deliver us from the foolishness of measuring our faith without taking into account what He is doing in other parts of the world and what He has done in other times.

Ken Pierpont
Brook Place
Hinsdale, Illinois
November 6, 2006

Peace in the Face of Death

Filed Under: Current Thoughts

garysmalley.jpg

This fall I was asked to speak at a retreat in the beautiful Northwoods. Among the guests at the retreat was a well-known Christian author, Gary Smalley. I was thrilled to be able to speak to him personally for the first time. His book, The Key to Your Child’s Heart, as been a favorite of mine for over twenty years. Over and over again I have thought of the message of that book when I was tempted to me irritable or short or angry with the children. It was a happy experience for me to be able to shake his hand and tell him how much his book had been a help to our family.

One afternoon Gary was persuaded to treat us with a talk. Gary’s talk was about the heart. He began by telling of his near-death experience while on a hunting trip. He had a serious heart attack and thought he would die before he was able to get out for medical attention. He said that he had a perfect calm in his soul about going to be with the Lord. Gary has a wonderful sense of humor. When he thought he was dying he said;

“Lying there on the ground I really thought I was going to die. I just looked up into the sky and said; ‘see you in a minute, Lord.'”

Obviously, Gary lived to tell about it. My hope for each of you who read this is that you would have the confidence of David who said; “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.”

Ray Riemen’s Harvest Memories

Filed Under: Current Thoughts

Last week Michael Powers published an autumn story I authored, called “Harvest Moon.” It was published in the Chicken Soup for the Soul series a few years ago. When Ray Reiman read it he began to reminisce and sent me a delightful note. As you can tell Ray does some writing, too and has something to say from his rich life.

LETTER FROM RAY RIEMEN:

Hi Ken!

Great “Heart Touchers” story about your granddad harvesting corn! He was much like my dad–a hard working, very honest farmer who died some years ago at age 89. Dad also was a fantastic corn “picker” by hand – not necessarily before one-row pickers were used but before he had money to buy such a fancy machine.

Even though Dad was much older than we high school sons on our Northwest Iowa farm, he could outpick any two of us! And he did! As my oldest brother and I were picking corn at one wagon behind him, we had a heck of a time keeping up with him!

Of course, our wagons were each “powered” by a team of horses that we harnessed in the dark (after first feeding the hogs, milking the cows and eating breakfast!) and drove to the field before daylight. I remember having to first “find” the ears of corn in the darkness to pitch into the wagon.

After each filling our wagons by throwing the ears against the “bang boards” by noon, we’d head home to unload the corn at the elevator at the corn crib, feed the horses, eat a quick lunch (“dinner” in those days), and head back to the field to start the whole business once again.

By the time it got too dark to pick any more, we’d drive back home to unload the corn into the corn crib, unharness and feed the horses, cattle and hogs, eat supper, drag our tired bodies into bed for a night’s sleep to start all over again before daylight the next day!!!

Oh, by the way, when we were younger, this all started with a two-week “vacation” (yeah, right!) from GRADE school that was declared every fall so that we kids could help pick corn!!!

Then, as we got into high school and beyond, Dad would let us use his horses and wagons to pick corn for larger-farm neighbors so we could go out and make big bucks! Hey, as much as 3c-5c a bushel at first and then later as awesome as 10c a bushel! And if we were good, we could make as much as $10 a day!

Wow! And kids think they have it tough these days! I don’t think we ever complained. We certainly never even thought of not going out to pick corn every day!…

– It’s been fun reminiscing, Ken! Thanks for listening! –Ray

You can write Ray at: eagleover50@juno.com

A Father’s Dreams

Filed Under: Faith and Family

On a late-October night in western Ohio, twenty-five years ago, a young couple checked into a hospital in the little village of Coldwater, Ohio. The young woman labored through the jaws of death into life. At about quarter of ten in the morning, I became a father. The baby was a boy, a fine, first-born son.

We named him Kyle Dale. His first name means integrity, his middle name was taken from a man who had died a year before in October, my grandfather, who had modeled a lifetime of integrity.

There is no way to describe the joy that flooded into my soul in those days. I would turn twenty-three a few days later. That night I left my young, happy wife with a tiny child nestled at her breast and went home euphoric with joy that has not dimmed in a quarter of a century.

The next day was a Saturday. That afternoon Kyle and I watched our first college football game together. Ohio State beat Purdue 45-33 and all was right with the world. I let him nurse on commercials and at the half.

My most vivid memory was that morning, when I came into the hospital and bounded up the stairs to see my wife and our baby. I peered through the nursery window at my son. He was such a tiny human being, just a little under eight pounds. I thought my heart would burst with happiness. I stood, looking at him through the window. Then and there I determined that we would be as close as any father and son could ever be.

Plans formed in my heart of things we would do together. I would teach him to ride a bike, catch a baseball, throw a spiral, and mow the lawn. We would camp and hike and fish together. We would raise a dog, his very own dog, a dog that would follow him wherever he went. We would seek the Lord together and I would teach him to love Jesus and savor his creation. Maybe he would be a pastor, too. That would make four generations of pastors in our family. My mind raced with plans that morning and it seemed that I had years and years to fulfill them together.

Twenty-five of those years are passed already in a whirl I can’t believe. He no longer lives under our roof– a little boy with a shock of bangs jutting from the front of his ball cap set back on his head. He no longer sleeps in the next room with a little stuffed dog named “Scruffy.” He has made his way out into the world. He has a wife of his own and they will have their own child by spring.

I have often thought of that morning looking through the nursery window and the plans, even vows, that formed deep in my soul to do things with my son. If a flawed, sinful, selfish, earthly father has plans in his heart for his child, how much more must our perfect heavenly father long for fellowship with each of his children? What must his plans for each of us be? Think of it. He has good plans for you beating in his father-heart.

That is what Jesus said; “If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” (Mat 7:11 ESV)

Ken Pierpont
Brook Place
Hinsdale, Illinois
October 30, 2006

October Weekend

Filed Under: Current Thoughts

hopedad.jpg

It’s been blustery in the Western Suburbs of Chicago lately. Saturday we enjoyed a drive in the county and a visit to a fall festival complete with pumpkins, and Indian corn, a hayride, music, and a huge craft barn. We may only have a little over a week of autumn color left to enjoy.

Sunday morning we drove south again to First Baptist Church in Momence. I preached on “America in Scripture” from Romans 1:18-32. Why America is under the judgment of God, what happens when a nation in under God’s judgment, and what to do about it. A significant number of the men of the church came forward at the end of the service with little prompting to say; “That’s the kind of man I want to be – ” It looks like I may preach regularly at First Baptist for a while.

Sunday night I preached here at the IBLP Staff Center again. I gave a quick overview of the book of Romans to emphasize the list of virtues that should be present in a consecrated community of believers found in Romans 12:9-21. I called it, “The House Rules for Christian Community.” I think we all long for the kind of experience in Christian community described there. We stayed late at the Staff Center over diner talking about the things of the Lord.

Wanna’ Start Something?

Filed Under: Virtues and Values

Saturday evening I was out redeeming my Sweetest Day. I was preoccupied in my thoughts weighing weather I should buy candy, flowers, or a cookbook for my Sweetest. I should have been paying more attention to my driving. I paused at a corner in a shopping center parking lot and without realizing it I rolled through a four-way stop. I pulled away from the stop sign before the fellow who had the right-of-way. He laid on his horn and his car lunged forward as if he was going to slam into me broadside.

I thought; “Wow, if I had a Beemer that nice I don’t think I would play bumper cars with it.” I glanced over just in time to see his distorted, angry, homicidal face. I looked at him as if to say, “oops–sorry,” but I don’t think I was able to communicate my contrition.

Such a fuss, I thought, about being about three seconds later wherever he was going. I’m just a village parson at heart. I’m used to people being a little nicer. I love the western suburbs of Chicago, but I’m having a little trouble adjusting. You should see what happens if you slow down to enjoy an autumn drive through the neighborhood. People here are all in a big hurry and they are often just plain not nice.

I am thinking of starting a “be nice” campaign. We could have hats and tee shirts that say “BE NICE.” We could have “be nice” meetings, and maybe even write some “be nice” songs. We could have a membership of nice people. Maybe we could get a “NICE” movement started.

There are exceptions, like our neighbor, Trudy, who invited us to her fall gathering Saturday and made sure we all had a piece of her special home-made bread and cocoa. There aren’t enough exceptions though. I think we should go on a mission to make more. I guess, when you get right down to it that should be one of the primary effects of getting the gospel to people.

If your sins are forgiven, you know you are on your way to heaven, and you have the Holy Spirit living in you, you would have good reason to be nice.

I’m thinking of a thick coffee mug with bold letters; BE NICE. Underneath in smaller letters; “You don’t look so scary that way.”

Ken Pierpont
Brook Place
Hinsdale, IL
October 23, 2006

Follow Ken Here