The propagandist's purpose is to make one set of people forget that certain other sets of people are human. — Aldous Huxley
by Ken Sehested
And what do we mean when we speak of the Lordship of Christ? Is this to say that the Holy One is the ultimate author of vengeance and retribution? Of demeaning power and humiliation?
No, a thousand times, NO! The Lordship of Christ speaks of the coming end of all lording, of the day when the cords of subjugation will unravel.
Read more ›by Ken Sehested
One: Give our elected officials your justice, O God.
All: And your righteousness to all who follow them in office.
Read more ›Signs of the Times • 21 December 2016 • No. 101
¶ Processional. “What a Wonderful World,” Louis Armstrong.
by Ken Sehested,
Wake up, sleepy-head! Rouse yourselves, all you who have been sedated by the mindless blather coming from statehouse and church house alike. Knock some sense into each other, all you who have come to believe that that strength comes from your own hand, that security is held by your own harness.
With my own eyes I saw the Blessed One before me: Christ above me, Christ before me. Christ behind me, Christ within me.
Read more ›Signs of the Times • 16 December 2016 • No. 100
¶ Processional. “Veni Veni Emmanuel” ("O Come O Come Emmaneul"), L'Accorche-Choeur, Ensemble vocal Fribourg.
Joseph. Obscured brother, consigned to the margins of Incarnation’s story. Calloused hands now shield the shame of face disgraced.
Thoughts of Mary smudge the heart as tears smear the cheek. Betrothed of Mary now bulging with child. Whose? How, and Why?
Unable to provide more than squalid accommodation in your beloved’s night of travail. Enduring embarrassed encounters with wild-eyed shepherds and strangely-clothed pilgrims from obscure and distant lands, each with incredulous stories of starry encounters.
Read more ›by Ken Sehested
It was an unusual Christmas, to be sure. Our friends in Atlanta got their first snowy Christmas Day since the late 19th century. It’s been more than 40 years since we had a white Christmas here in Asheville. But then, I got notes from friends in Australia and South Africa who mentioned their beach barbecues on Christmas day. In the southern hemisphere this is summer, and none of our cultural hymns about “dreaming of a white Christmas,” or “dashing through the snow on a one-horse open sleigh,” or even one of my favorite Advent hymns, “In the Bleak Midwinter”—none of these work for more than half the world’s landmass.
We had a wonderful Christmas at our house. All our kinfolk managed to safely dodge the worst of the weather. With 10 people in the house, two of them juiced-up preschoolers, shoveling snow and splitting firewood offered a welcome break from the clamor. Of course, it’s always a special treat to watch youngsters rip open Christmas gifts. And when we finished, our living room floor looked like a bomb had gone off in a Christmas wrapping paper factory.
Read more ›by Ken Sehested
One: Our nation is at war, and our hearts are torn. The seeds of fear are planted in terror and harvested in violence.
All: How long, O Lord, how long?
Read more ›Signs of the Times • 9 December 2016 • No. 99
¶ Processional. “If your world has only done you wrong / And all you find yourself is all alone / And if there's no one there to see you through / I'll be there for you.” —The Mavericks, “Come Unto Me”
by Ken Sehested
Fretfully does my heart drag its heels into the sanctuary of delight. For my wanton days and weary praise reveal the toll taken by life’s relentless demands.
Come unto me, and I shall give you rest.
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