This morning I opened up my e-mail and found that I had received correspondence from one of the remnant in Virginia.
Then I paused again to realize how blessed by God I am to know the people that I know.
These remnant types who write me are the cream of the country. It is unfortunate that they are scattered so thinly across the nation. But they are out there and I hear from them regularly and I am the one who is blessed by that. I don’t think that I could have kept whatever little sanity that I have left if it were not for the 7000 who have not bowed the knee to Baal who resolve to stay in touch with me.
I hear from them in text, e-mail, pm, proton-mail, telephone, skype and just about any other way one can imagine. The thing we have in common is a longing for the glory of God to be seen and a return to the halcyon days when the insanity could be navigated. We also have in common the realization that that is not going to happen in our lifetimes and so our job is now to play the watchmen on the wall who shouts out the warning — a warning that is neither wanted nor can be heard.
There they are all across the country. Sunday it was texting with one of the several who lives in Georgia. Today it was an e-mail from a Saint in Virginia. Once a month it is a phone call from England. Then there are the lads in Idaho. Their numbers might be able to support a small church. Tennessee checks in with a dear couple who introduced me to a radio format — now the radio format guys are part of this not large enough remnant. There are the Saints here in this congregation. They deserve a higher place in heaven just for putting up with me through the years. No better group of people could a minister hope for. There are other Saints spread across the WOKE state of Michigan. One of them is closer than a brother. Texas is another spot where several of the warrior-priests live and it is conversational heaven to engage with them. Louisiana, Alabama, South Carolina, Indiana, Kentucky — the remnant is out there, it is just that we are spread too thin like too little butter over too much bread. They will never know what a blessing to me they have been. I weep for them because there are not enough of us.
You see, ideally, these are the people who would be your neighbor across the street or in the house next to you. The fellowship could be more immediate and the mutual support more tactile.
Whether it is the Saints in Canada or S. Africa or in America one thing is constant and that is the desire for a decent church to attend. Let me remind you again … these are the cream of Christianity. These are the remnant and yet it is this very group that laments to me that “there isn’t a decent church around me to attend.” The reason for this is that they expect the church to be the church, but what they find instead is WOKE, or R2K, or FV, or Dispensationalism, or who knows what other flavor of cultural captivity. So, they reach out to me — a minister they know who himself can’t find a denominational home for the same reason they can’t find a congregational home.
So we provide mutual encouragement to one another. We remind each other of the necessity to be optimistic — we serve the King and so can not be otherwise. We remind each other that all of what we are living through is to the ultimate end of the build-up of the present kingdom. We swap gun stories. We correlate the activity of the enemy. We talk about our families and how our extended families who do have a church to attend find us bizarre. All the kind of stuff you’d discuss with other like-minded friends in your church … if you had a church.
They are the smartest/wisest people I know. It is because I talk to them I have so little interest in talking to others. When you are in the habit of driving around a top-of-the-line Mercedes getting behind the wheel of a VW is hardly exciting. These people are epistemologically self-conscious and know what they believe and why they believe it. They don’t send their children to government schools and they don’t think the solution to our problems is by voting harder.
It is not as if any of them are made of better dirt. It’s just that they have a different worldview than the average church-going normie American bear.
One more thing — they read. Dr. Martin 45 years ago told us that “leaders are readers.” I thought it a trite thing to say then but now I know how accurate he was. All of these folks read the kind of material that seldom gets read any longer. They listen to lectures. They are seeking to think Christianly in every area of life. And the result is that these people are the very essence of leadership. One doesn’t become a leader by listening to John Maxwell’s courses or by attending the very latest seminar on leadership. One becomes a leader by putting the meat in the seat in order to read till you bleed. These people have done that.
I wish I could know each of them and all of them better. I wish we could routinely break bread together around each other’s tables. I wish we could have our children marry one another and become grandparents together. I wish we could all worship together. I wish we formed our own community.
But until then we serve the great King’s purposes by being salt and light scattered hither and yon.
I hope they all know how much they have blessed me over the years and how much I love them. I could only wish they could be part of this fabulous flock in Charlotte, Michigan.
