Revival

My little church has been hosting revival services all week.  Tonight is the last night of services.

For those that are not familiar—and even here in the Deep South, I am finding lots of churchgoing Christians who have no idea what a “revival” is—revivals are annual or semi-annual events during which churches hold additional nights of services, usually with a guest preacher or preachers.  The purpose of revival is twofold:  1.) to revive the congregation (as the name suggests) with inspiring teaching and preaching and 2.) to encourage additional evangelism in the community.  While Jesus Calls Christians to the Great Commission all the time, revival makes going to church a bit more of an event—“come hear this dude from the town over preach tonight!”

My pastor has an extensive network of other pastors and Biblical scholars in the area, so he always finds some great preachers.  Some of them are the old-school Pentecostal types—lots of vocal crescendos and emotionalism—while others are more scholarly, with deep theological insights.  I tend to prefer the latter, but it’s always a good variety, swinging from passionate piety to intellectual rigor.

If you would, dear readers, say a prayer for revival tonight.  I have invited several people—some former students, mostly—to attend.  A number of them indicated they’d likely be able to come out tonight.  I know how these things sometimes go—not wanting to offend, vague quasi-commitments are made, only to be broken—often at the last possible moment—with various sudden emergencies and such.  I understand, but I would ask your prayers that these young men and women make an appearance, and that the Word delivered tonight strikes a chord and/or fulfills a need.  I don’t know the hearts of all of these invitees, nor do I know their spiritual condition, but if any are lost, please pray that for their salvation, either tonight or in the future.

I’m trying to evangelize more and to plant the seed of the Gospel in the hearts of others.  I’ve failed to do so far more often than I care to admit.  Please pray that the seed falls on fertile ground.

God Bless!

—TPP

Red-Pilled Bible Study

Last night I attended a men’s monthly Bible study at a church in Lamar.  My neighbors had been inviting me for a couple of months, but when that mythical third Monday would roll around, I’d always have some outstanding obligation (mainly rehearsal for the Spooktacular).  Since I’m running for Town Council again in January, I figured it would be good to feed my soul and my political ambitions simultaneously (they also brought sub sandwiches, so I was pretty well-fed holistically by the time I left).

The evening was spiritually, culturally, and politically encouraging.  These men were fired up for Jesus, our country, and Trump, in that order.  After everybody caught up a bit and after some introductions (I was the new guy at the meeting), the conversation gradually turned to politics, starting (I believe) with the necessity for a border wall, and Biden’s hare-brained pledge to tear it down.

From there, it was a free-ranging discussion, including vigorous airings of grievances; laments for the state of our nation; pledges to resist excessive government mandates; and repeated admonitions to trust in God.  Our Scripture reading was Psalm 138.  The Psalm is a reminder that God is in control, and will support us in our hour of need.  Here’s verse 7, from the New King James Version:

7Though I walk in the midst of trouble, You will revive me;
You will stretch out Your hand
Against the wrath of my enemies,
And Your right hand will save me.

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The Joy of Hymnals

I recently started playing piano for Wednesday night and some Sunday services at my little Free Will Baptist Church.  My church has about thirty or forty attendees on a good Sunday morning, so it’s slim pickings for pianists.

The little old lady who had been playing is very feeble, and she managed to miss more accidentals than a seventh-grade clarinet player due to her failing hearing and eyesight.  As such, she was eager to pass off the monkey’s paw of church piano playing to someone else.

As such, I’ve gradually improved my sightreading.  More importantly, I’ve enjoyed the opportunity to reacquaint myself with some wonderful old hymns—and to learn some for the first time.

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