Patrick: a Boy, A Bagpipe and A Big Gospel Adventure

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Strange that a day commemorating a courageous preacher of the Gospel of the Kingdom should be whetted down with draughts of green beer.

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Until he was 16, Patrick considered himself pagan. Some Irish marauders raided his village at that age in the British mainland, and he was sold into slavery to Ireland. During his captivity He became aware of God's presence, and became a Christian. He escaped from slavery after six years, and went to Gaul to study in the monastery under St. Germain, bishop of Auxerre for twelve years. During this time he was called to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ in Ireland. He was appointed second bishop to Ireland. In winning many souls to Christ, he made enemies, not least the Celtic Druids who imprisoned him several times, but each time, amazingly, he escaped. It is believed that he raised people from the dead, and other astonishing miracles. He established monasteries, and set up schools and churches which helped him to convert Ireland to Christianity. One time he is said to have illustrated the Trinity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, God Three Persons in One, by using a shamrock leaf, or clover with its three strands. His mission in Ireland lasted for thirty years. Subsequently, he retired to County Down. He died on March 17th in AD 461. That day has been celebrated as St. Patrick's Day since then.

Interestingly, Ireland was unique as being the only Western European country to avoid Roman conquest. It should be noted that Patrick and the early Celtic Church of Ireland rejected any foreign control of the church, recognising only Jesus Christ as the Head of the Church. Roman Catholicism did not emerge in Ireland until many centuries later after the Saxon invasion.

Patrick had a cause, a passion, a purpose, and a destiny. He risked his life for Jesus Christ.

- H/T to Jesusevidence.org

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Oh, the bagpipe bit in the title stems from the interesting tidbit that the lad Patrick, while in captivity, formed a musical instrument out of a pig’s hide and hollowed out reeds. The Scots seemed to have perfected his invention.

Was there nothing this saint couldn’t do?

For a gander into what steered his heart and proffered his courage, you may want to sidle up and read this lengthy “Breastplate Prayer” which is attributed to Patrick. It’s quite stunning.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through the belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness
Of the Creator of Creation.

I arise today
Through the strength of Christ’s birth with his baptism,
Through the strength of his crucifixion with his burial,
Through the strength of his resurrection with his ascension,
Through the strength of his descent for the judgment of Doom.

I arise today
Through the strength of the love Cherubim,
In obedience of angels,
In the service of archangels,
In hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
In prayers of patriarchs,
In predictions of prophets,
In preaching of apostles,
In faith of confessors,
In innocence of holy virgins,
In deeds of righteous men.

I arise today
Through the strength of heaven:
Light of sun,
Radiance of moon,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock.

I arise today
Through God’s strength to pilot me:
God’s might to uphold me,
God’s wisdom to guide me,
God’s eye to look before me,
God’s ear to hear me,
God’s word to speak for me,
God’s hand to guard me,
God’s way to lie before me,
God’s shield to protect me,
God’s host to save me
From snares of devils,
From temptations of vices,
From everyone who shall wish me ill,
Afar and anear,
Alone and in multitude.

I summon today all these powers between me and those evils,
Against every cruel merciless power that may oppose my body and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts man’s body and soul.

Christ to shield me today
Against poison, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So that there may come to me abundance of reward.
Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness,
Of the Creator of Creation.

The Fine Art of Waiting on God

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I wait for the Lord…my whole being waits…”
Psalm 130:5

Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you.
Shakespeare, Sonnet 57

The next time God closes a door, don’t look for a window. Maybe we should just find a couch and sit for awhile.
Jason Upton

I am in a season of waiting.

I have an expectancy in this hour that God will come through for me where I most need Him to. Hope is what I am clinging to; not run-of-the-mill, common wishful thinking, but the way Paul uses it in the NT. And Peter. A settled, bankable confidence.

I fully expect to blog someday about how God came to my rescue, and that He did it in a magical, unexpected, and exceptional way. I’ve even given Him room to answer my cry way outside the lines of my asking.

He’s done it before. Lots of times. And He’ll do it again.

There’s poetry in waiting.

The word sounds like its a bad thing, but I’ve learned a thing or two about this…activity. Yes, I chose my word very carefully.

Waiting is not idleness. It is anything but passive or being in retreat. Waiting is not static. Waiting on God is the season in which our inner man advances. We’ve learned that our children do their growing while they sleep. So it is with God’s child. We do our most and best growing in our restful seasons of waiting on God.

Tell me your waiting story.

How Lame

If I were alive in, say, 1611, I would bear the label “lame.” Today we describe things that are lacking or unsatisfactory as “lame.”

“That show was lame.”

“The 80’s were so lame.”

Far, far back before English translators took a stab at the Greek, the word could mean anything from ‘lacking a foot’ to ‘limping around’. As I said, if I was in the time of  donning powdered wigs and sporting knickers and hose, my English peers would point at me and say, “He doth be so lame-eth.” But I am not hobbling around on a weak leg nor am I missing a foot. My legs and feet are fully intact, but they are ‘useless’ per se. They appear to have life but they are unresponsive to the command of the “head”.

See where I am going with this?

When our First Parents skipped around the Garden naked and unashamed, they had face to face communion with the Lord. They had really cool talks about life, history and destiny with pre-incarnate Jesus in the cool of the day. There was no veil. No disconnect. All the heavenlies were opened to their adoring eyes. Continue reading How Lame