Go Tell It On The Mountain

Praying With Paul Kingsnorth; Trump Americana; Kamala, Kommie?, Hillbilly Thomists

Paul Kingsnorth offering night prayer on top of an Alabama mountain

I’m writing this late Sunday night. I have been all day up in the country, in north Alabama, with Paul Kingsnorth and my good friends Matt Burford and Ed Grier, at Matt’s camp. Ed suggested that we drive out to a Grant Mountain overlook, above a valley, to pray before bed. I offered the Breastplate of St. Patrick (you might have seen the deeply moving adaptation of that prayer by Javier Bardem, playing a priest in Malick’s To The Wonder):

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.

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 of cherubim,
In the obedience of angels,
In the service of archangels,
In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In the predictions of prophets,
In the preaching of apostles,
In the faith of confessors,
In the innocence of holy virgins,
In the deeds of righteous men.

I arise today, through
The strength of heaven,
The light of the sun,
The radiance of the moon,
The splendor of fire,
The speed of lightning,
The swiftness of wind,
The depth of the sea,
The stability of the earth,
The 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 shield to protect me,
God’s host to save me
From snares of devils,
From temptation of vices,
From everyone who shall wish me ill,
afar and near.

I summon today
All these powers between me and those evils,
Against every cruel and 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 an 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.
Amen.

Then Paul offered this Hymn to the Lighting of the Lamps, a prayer from the 5th century; he’s using the light from my iPhone to illuminate his prayerbook. (Sorry, took it down — it was put up on audio by Matt, so I assumed it was public, but Paul asked Matt to take it down, so I did too.)

Matt and Ed go to Baptist churches, and they offered profound, and profoundly moving, extemporaneous prayers, thanking God for our fellowship, and asking his blessing and protection on the families of us four men, and our work. It was a beautiful meeting of the high prayers of the ancient church, and the everyday prayers of two Alabama brothers in Christ. Thank you, Jesus, for these men.

I introduced Paul to one of the greatest Southern storytellers who ever drew breath: Jerry Clower, of Liberty, Miss. Specifically, this story:

Here’s Paul at work writing at the lake camp this afternoon, wearing a t-shirt Shannon Poe designed for him on behalf of Tactical Faith, Matt B.’s non-profit, which sponsored Paul’s trip to Alabama:

I did not get to see the comet in the sky now, but really, minor comets have been blazing past me in more veiled and intimate ways these past few days in Alabama.

Matt told a powerful story at dinner tonight. When his daughter was very young, she fell into a pool and drowned. When they found her, there was no life left in the child. Her brother Ben, who was four, saw all this playing out. Suddenly, water spurted from his sister’s mouth, and she was alive! They rushed her to the hospital. Doctors warned Matt and his wife that the poor kid would almost certainly get pneumonia from all that water in her lungs, and that they would have some tough days ahead.

But Emma was perfectly fine the next morning, and left the hospital fully healed.

Then, Ben told his father that he wanted to be baptized. Their family is Southern Baptist, and Baptists don’t do infant baptism. Usually children are baptized when they are older — teenagers, typically — when they are thought to be capable of making a conscious, responsible decision to follow Christ. But Ben was only four, so that was not likely to happen. Yet the child was so insistent that Matt took him to their pastor.

The pastor questioned Ben, wanting to know why he thought he wanted to give his life to Christ. Little Ben told him that when he saw his sister lying dead (or so he thought) next to the pool, he prayed intensely, telling the Lord that if he would save her, that he, Ben, would follow Him for the rest of his days. That’s when the water erupted from Emma’s lungs, and she lived.

Because of Ben’s prayers, Emma arose from the water of death, into life. And so then did little Ben; after that testimony, the pastor would not stand in the child’s way. To this day, Ben, now a college student, keeps the faith.

On Saturday morning, Paul and I spoke at length to an audience at the Greek Orthodox church, about our journeys to Christ, and about sundry woo. Father Stephen Freeman, the much-loved Orthodox priest from Tennessee, rose to tell a story about an older Episcopal priest he once knew when he himself was an Episcopal priest. The older clergyman told Father Stephen that he didn’t believe in angels. Then the older priest repeated that to a crowd of folks he was addressing. One by one, the ordinary people rose to testify to their own encounters with angels. They changed the unbelieving pastor’s mind, said Father Stephen.

It was so, so good to be with folks, and to meet some of you subscribers. Thank you! I have such a confident feeling about Living In Wonder. I will be launching Living In Wonder on Monday night at Beeson Divinity School, at Samford University in Birmingham. Things kick off at 6pm — it’s free, but please register (also, directions to Beeson here). I’ll be signing books too, so if you want to get your copy a day early, come out!