Author Allen Frederick

The Shutdown: A Barnyard Parable

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Muddy Waters and Judging Between Sheep and Sheep

“Is it not enough for you to feed on the good pasture? Must you also muddy the rest of the water with your feet?” — Ezekiel 34:18



“As for you, my flock, this is what the Sovereign LORD says: I will judge between one sheep and another, and between rams and goats.” — Ezekiel 34:17

The farm’s gates swing shut. “Emergency measures,” trumpet the Elephants. “Necessary sacrifice,” bray the Donkeys. But inside the Big House, both species feast together on grain that was meant for winter storage.

Out in the barnyard, the animals take sides. “The Donkeys caused this!” cry the mice who follow the Elephants. “The Elephants are starving us!” bleat the sheep who trust the Donkeys. They fight over muddied water troughs while neither notices the pipeline running straight from the well to the Big House.

The exhausted horses, working three shifts to buy the same oats that used to cost half, don’t have energy to question why the “opposition” parties keep meeting for midnight suppers. The cows, confused by conflicting reports about which field has grass, give up and chew whatever’s in front of them—usually each other.

Old Major’s dream of “All Animals Are Equal” still hangs painted on the barn, but smaller print keeps appearing underneath: “During Shutdowns, Some Exceptions Apply.” “Temporary Emergency Measures May Extend Indefinitely.” “Your Sacrifice Ensures Our—I Mean YOUR—Security.”

The pigs—now “consultants” who work for both Elephants and Donkeys—explain that the muddy water is actually better for you. “Minerals,” they oink. “Probiotics. Trust the science we funded.”

But one ancient ram remembers Ezekiel’s prophecy: The Judge sees through barn walls. He knows which hooves muddied the water. He’s coming to separate those who got fat on others’ grain from those who starved believing the performance.

The question echoes across the barnyard: When you see them muddying the trough, do you help clear it? Or do you kick in more dirt because your side told you it helps?

The Judge is taking notes. And He’s particularly interested in why the Elephants and Donkeys keep accidentally ordering the same catering service.

But then—the first drops fall.

Rain. Clean, unmuddied, straight from heaven. No pipeline can capture it. No spin can poison it at the source. The animals lift their faces, tongues out, tasting clarity for the first time in years.

Some animals stop fighting over the muddy troughs. They position buckets, barrels, anything that holds water. “Why drink their mud when we can wait for rain?” whispers one lamb to another. Word spreads through the underground—not through official channels the Big House monitors, but farmer to farmer, sheep to sheep: The Judge hasn’t forgotten. He’s sending what they can’t control.

The Elephants and Donkeys panic. They can’t shut down rain. They try: “Unauthorized water collection is dangerous! Only properly filtered water protects you!” But more animals notice—every time it rains, the Big House residents rush to cover their feast tables while the rest of creation drinks freely.

And in the distance, a figure approaches through the storm. Not another politician-shepherd with promises. The Owner Himself, come to judge between sheep and sheep, between those who muddied and those who chose to thirst for truth.

The real revolution isn’t overthrowing the Big House. It’s remembering water doesn’t come from them. It never did.

“I Myself will tend My sheep… I will bind up the injured and strengthen the weak, but the sleek and the strong I will destroy. I will shepherd the flock with justice.” —Ezekiel 34:15-16

Look up. The forecast shows more rain coming.

A WARNING AGAINST APOSTASY

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When Barley and Hops Replace the Holy Spirit: A Living Parable of Apostasy

“For if, after they have escaped the defilements of the world through the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, they are again entangled in them and overcome, the last state has become worse for them than the first. For it would have been better for them never to have known the way of righteousness than after knowing it to turn back from the holy commandment delivered to them.” – 2 Peter 2:20-21

In Pittsburgh’s Lawrenceville neighborhood stands a prophetic warning made of brick and mortar: The Church Brew Works. What was once St. John the Baptist Roman Catholic Church was built in 1902. It served immigrant souls seeking God in a new land. Now, it serves Pious Monk Dunkel where prayers once rose like incense. This isn’t just adaptive reuse. It’s a living parable of what happens when vessels swept clean by the blood of the Lamb evict their Lord.

Consider the spiritual progression: A sinner encounters Christ. The blood washes them clean—REDEEMED. The Holy Spirit takes residence. But then comes the fatal choice: rejecting His Lordship for programs over presence, relevance over reverence. In that willful vacancy, seven worse spirits rush in.

St. John the Baptist Church knew this progression intimately. For 91 years, the Eucharist transformed bread and wine into holy mystery. Immigrants found more than community—they found Christ. But as industry fled Pittsburgh and congregations dwindled, the church chose survival over Spirit. In 1993, the Diocese officially deconsecrated the building. Three years later, copper brewing tanks stand precisely where the altar once stood.

The sobering truth: This “resurrected” space serves 300% more bodies daily than it ever did as a church. But which spirits are they serving? The brewery offers “Celestial Gold” and “Pipe Organ Pale Ale”—mocking the sacred with clever marketing. They’ve literally replaced the Holy Spirit with distilled spirits, the blood of the covenant with barley and hops.

Jesus warned us precisely about this in Matthew 12:43-45: “When an unclean spirit goes out of a man, he goes through dry places, seeking rest, and finds none. Then he says, ‘I will return to my house from which I came.’ And when he comes, he finds it empty, swept, and put in order. Then he goes and takes with him seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they enter and dwell there; and the last state of that man is worse than the first.”

But Peter’s warning cuts deeper—this isn’t about never knowing Christ. These churches KNEW Him. They were washed in His blood, filled with His Spirit, entrusted with His mysteries. Their apostasy is infinitely worse than ignorance. As Peter declares, better to have never known the way of righteousness than to turn back from the holy commandment.

Some will argue this church merely traded one form of spiritual emptiness for another—replacing religious ritual with recreational ritual. But even symbolic faith is closer to truth than celebrating its absence. When any church—Catholic, Protestant, Orthodox—that once invoked Christ’s name now invokes ‘Celestial Gold’ lager, it strays far from its original purpose. When any altar becomes a brewery, it loses its sanctity. When any sanctuary chooses mammon over even the memory of the sacred, the last state is worse than the first. The building that once reached toward heaven, however imperfectly, now celebrates its earth-bound stupor.

The building remembers its redemption while hosting its own possession. The stained glass still filters light, but onto patrons seeking buzz instead of blessing. The remnant sees this for what it is: not progress but prophecy fulfilled. When institutions that once housed the Holy Spirit choose barley and hops instead, they don’t become neutral spaces—they become anti-sanctuaries.

This is the sober warning to every congregation: Which spirits are you choosing to serve? The Holy Spirit still seeks vessels who won’t trade His presence for the world’s applause. But once you’ve known His glory and chosen vacancy instead, the last state is indeed worse than the first. The Church Brew Works stands as testimony—where the Blood once redeemed, blood alcohol content now rules. Let those with eyes to see, see. Let those with ears to hear, hear.

This has been “A View From the Nest” and that is the way I see it! What say you?

Faith and Freedom from Dependency

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LEVIATHAN’S PLANTATION: When God’s People Choose Pharaoh’s Portion

I spent four years knocking on heaven’s door while eating scraps from Caesar’s table. $229 in SNAP benefits that barely stretched, checking account under $100, watching savings evaporate like morning dew. I wasn’t lazy—I was grinding, seeking, knocking. But the door stayed shut while Leviathan’s window stayed open, dispensing just enough to survive, never enough to thrive.

Then two months ago—after FOUR YEARS—God opened the door I’d been bloodying my knuckles on. Real provision, real work, real dignity. My savings restored, my needs met, my SNAP card gathering dust. And now? Now Leviathan announces its cupboard is bare, its plantation bankrupt. God’s timing is savage in its perfection. He delivered me from Egypt precisely as Pharaoh’s pantry failed.

This is the testimony 41 million Americans need to hear. They won’t hear it because Leviathan’s first lie is that it’s your only option.

Watch the grotesque genius of this bondage: The Potomac beast sits like Jabba the Hutt. It is immobilized by its own consumption, too bloated to hunt. It demands tribute from frozen senators who toss citizens into its maw. We thought we were negotiating with a government. We were making covenant with Leviathan. Job 41:4 asks, “Will he make a covenant with you? Will you take him as your servant forever?” We reversed the equation—we became ITS servants, defending our dealer like addicts protecting their supply.

The cruelest slavery convinces captives they’re customers. The protestors cry “No kings!” while clutching their EBT cards. They miss the irony that they’ve already bent the knee to the king who keeps them fed but never free. They’ve forgotten how to fish because Leviathan banned fishing lessons along with the nets. “Teach a man to fish” became “Teach a man to stand in line.”

Numbers 11 exposes the heart: Israel wept for Egyptian leeks while manna fell from heaven. “We remember the fish we ate in Egypt that cost nothing!” But it cost EVERYTHING—their freedom, their dignity, their children’s futures. Today’s leeks come via direct deposit, today’s bondage through dependency programs. The fish costs nothing except your soul.

Here’s what Leviathan never tells its plantation workers: Every patriarch started as a wanderer. Abraham left comfort for promise. Moses chose reproach over treasure. David went from shepherd to king through the wilderness, not the welfare office. God’s economy runs on faith-risk, not safety nets that become spider webs.

The solution isn’t reform—you can’t domesticate chaos. Isaiah 27:1 promises God will slay “Leviathan the fleeing serpent, Leviathan the twisting serpent.” Our job? Stop performing CPR on what God condemned. Every continuing resolution breathes life into dead nostrils. Every new program adds scales to the dragon. Every dependency deepens the plantation.

I was young, but now I’m old. I’ve never seen the righteous forsaken or God’s children begging bread. I’ve watched millions trade their birthright for government pottage. They defend the very chains that bind them. They forgot that the God who splits rocks in the wilderness still opens doors after four years of knocking.

Jesus said, “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.”

And He also said, “But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”

The plantation is collapsing. The door is opening. Which testimony will you become?

This has been a “View From the Nest” and that is the way I see it! What say you?

The Church of Jeroboam: How Halloween Exposes our Calendar of Compromise

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By Allen Frederick

This article serves to peel back the layers of spiritual compromise hidden within the modern Christian calendar. It is much like unwrapping a mummy to reveal the skeletons in the closet. With historical and biblical precision, it shows the repackaging of ancient pagan rituals. These rituals have been accepted under the guise of Christian tradition. The purpose is to challenge believers to discern these counterfeit practices. The goal is to call the Church back to God’s original appointed times and faithful worship. This will restore reverence and truth to our sacred calendar.

“Jeroboam ordained a feast on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, like the feast that was in Judah… in the month which he had devised in his own heart.” —1 Kings 12:33

In two days, millions of Christians will dress their children as demons. They will decorate their sanctuaries with skeletons. They will call it “outreach.” They’ll defend this spiritual masquerade with theological gymnastics, claiming they’ve “redeemed” a pagan death festival for Christ.

They haven’t. They’ve become the Church of Jeroboam.

The Pattern of Apostasy

Jeroboam faced a significant political problem. It arose when he became king of Israel’s northern tribes after the kingdom split (1 Kings 12:20). If his people kept traveling to Jerusalem for God’s appointed feasts, they might defect back to Judah. His solution? Create counterfeit worship that felt familiar but kept people under his control.

His innovations were damning:

  • Golden calves in Bethel and Dan—“It is too much for you to go up to Jerusalem. Here are your gods, O Israel” (1 Kings 12:28)
  • Non-Levite priests—“He made priests from every class of people, who were not of the sons of Levi” (1 Kings 12:31)
  • A new feast day on the 15th of the 8th month—“like the feast that was in Judah” (1 Kings 12:32)
  • Alternative worship centers—“He offered sacrifices on the altar which he had made in Bethel” (1 Kings 12:33)

Sound familiar? It should. The modern Church has perfected Jeroboam’s playbook.

Jeroboam, Thy Name Is Pope Gregory

The Celtic festival of Samhain never died. When Rome suppressed Druidism around 60 CE, the practices went underground but lived on in rural communities. When Christianity arrived, it found these death rituals still thriving.

Enter Pope Gregory I (590-604), who pioneered “interpretatio Christiana”—the strategy of absorbing pagan practices rather than destroying them. His successor, Pope Gregory III (731-741), moved All Saints’ Day to November 1st, directly overlaying Samhain.

Jeroboam created alternative feast days to keep political power. Pope Gregory created alternative holy days to gain religious control. Both compromised God’s truth for human convenience. Both made unauthorized additions to God’s calendar. Both led God’s people into generational apostasy.

The Druids dressed in animal skins to hide from spirits. We dress in polyester to mock them. The ritual remains—only the rationale has changed.

Halloween: The Gateway Drug

Walk through any Spirit Halloween store (prophetic name, isn’t it?) and witness the fruit:

  • Ouija boards marketed to children
  • Demon costumes labeled “fun”
  • Witchcraft normalized as entertainment
  • Death glorified as decoration

We didn’t defeat paganism—we legitimized it. We gave darkness a Christian name and watched it devour our children.

Scripture warns: “Do not learn the way of the nations” (Jeremiah 10:2). Yet we’ve done more than learn—we’ve mastered their ways.

The Reformation That Wasn’t

Here’s the ultimate irony. Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the Wittenberg door on October 31, 1517. He did this not to mock Satan. He chose this date because crowds would gather for All Saints’ Day. He used a compromised holiday to protest compromise.

But the Protestant Reformation reformed theology while keeping Rome’s calendar. We protested the papacy but preserved their parties. We rejected transubstantiation but kept Saturnalia. We abandoned purgatory but clung to Easter eggs.

The Reformers broke from Rome’s doctrine but remained shackled to Gregory’s calendar. They changed the management but kept Jeroboam’s system intact. We became protesters who still party on pagan holidays.

The Trinity of Compromise

Halloween isn’t alone. It’s part of an unholy trinity:

Christmas – Rome’s Saturnalia rebranded. We celebrate Christ’s birth on a date He wasn’t born, using symbols He never sanctioned.

Easter – Ishtar’s fertility festival baptized. We celebrate resurrection with pagan eggs and rabbits while ignoring Passover, which actually points to the Lamb.

These aren’t cultural accommodations. They’re high places we refuse to tear down. Sacred cows we defend more fiercely than God’s actual appointed times:

  • Passover (Leviticus 23:5)
  • Pentecost/Shavuot (Leviticus 23:16)
  • Tabernacles/Sukkot (Leviticus 23:34)
  • Day of Atonement/Yom Kippur (Leviticus 23:27)

The Cost of Compromise

Scripture mentions “the sin of Jeroboam” twenty-one times. Every king was judged by whether they “walked in the ways of Jeroboam” (1 Kings 15:34). His compromise became generational apostasy.

The pattern persists:

  • Jeroboam: “Worship Yahweh, but my way”
  • Pope Gregory: “Come to Christ, but keep your festivals”
  • Protestant Church: “Sola Scriptura, but not for holidays”
  • Modern Church: “Reach the lost by joining their parties”

A Prophetic Call

God didn’t whisper when He judged Jeroboam. He shouldn’t whisper now.

To Pastors: Stop defending what God never ordained. Your theological degrees don’t authorize you to rewrite God’s calendar. “Come out from among them and be separate” (2 Corinthians 6:17).

To Parents: Every costume is a catechism. What are you teaching? “Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness” (Ephesians 5:11).

To the Remnant: Yes, you’ll be hated. Yes, you’ll be called legalistic. Stand anyway. “You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons too” (1 Corinthians 10:21).

The Bottom Line

The Church didn’t redeem Samhain. It resurrected it. We gave paganism a priestly robe and wondered why our children can’t discern darkness from light.

Jeroboam’s epitaph was simple: “He made Israel to sin” (1 Kings 14:16). Gregory’s legacy is identical. The Reformation’s failure is the same. If we continue in their footsteps, our epitaph will match theirs.

This Halloween, while others party with darkness, may a faithful remnant rise. They will declare: “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Joshua 24:15). This commitment will be on His terms, in His time, by His Word alone.

The high places must fall. The sacred cows must die. The calendar must return to its Creator.

It’s time to stop being the Church of Jeroboam.

This has been a “View From the Nest.” And that is the way I see it. What say you?

God's Vinedresser

When God Prunes His Vineyard:

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A Prophetic Call to the American Church

“For it is time for judgment to begin at the household of God” (1 Peter 4:17).

A generation is returning to our doors, but what they find may prompt heaven’s pruning shears.

God's Vinedresser
When God get’s out His pruning shears

Introduction: The Surge That Isn’t a Revival

  • Headline Trend: Church attendance in the U.S. has risen to 32% in 2025, reversing a 15-year decline.
  • Bible Engagement: Gen Z and Millennial men are driving a quiet resurgence in Bible interest.
  • But the Question Remains: Are we returning to God—or just returning to the building?

The Ancient Pattern

This isn’t new. Ezekiel watched as God’s glory departed the temple—but judgment began at the sanctuary (Ezekiel 9:6). The priests wept between the porch and altar. Josiah found the Book of the Law buried under religious debris (2 Kings 22). Hezekiah cleansed temples turned into idol storage (2 Chronicles 29).

History’s rhythm: Revival, compromise, judgment, repentance, restoration. We’re somewhere in that cycle, and the Master Gardener is examining His vineyard.

The Barren Fig Tree: When Orthodoxy Produces No Life

Jesus told this parable with divine patience and terrifying finality:

But mercy intervened—one more year. One more chance. One more vinedresser willing to get dirty.

What It Means to Dig Around the Roots

“Sir, let it alone this year also, until I dig around it and put on manure” (Luke 13:8).

The vinedresser doesn’t just water leaves or polish bark. He digs deep around the roots. This is invasive, uncomfortable work:

• Exposing what’s hidden—the root systems of tradition, pride, fear

• Disturbing the comfortable—challenging why we do what we do

• Examining the foundation—is it drawing from Living Water or stagnant wells?

• Adding fresh manure—new anointing, prophetic words, uncomfortable truths that fertilize

When the Tree Rejects the Vinedresser

Some trees prefer death to disturbance.

I know churches that recite ancient catechisms weekly—beautiful, orthodox, dead. They have male elders, biblical structure, reformed theology. They can parse Greek verbs but can’t perceive God’s presence. They guard tradition like temple police while the glory has long departed.

When God sends a vinedresser to dig—someone with dirt under their nails and tears in their eyes—they often reject the mercy meant to save them. Why?

• The digging hurts—it exposes roots wrapped around rocks of tradition

• The manure stinks—fresh anointing offends religious sensibilities

• The change threatens—what if we’ve been wrong all these years?

The Final Season

Sometimes God says to His vinedressers: “Leave. Watch. Let them choose.”

This isn’t abandonment—it’s the final mercy. The tree must choose: submit to the shears or face the axe. Accept the fresh manure or remain barren. Let the vinedresser dig or die with dignity intact.

The Heartbreak of the Vinedresser

Those called to dig around foundations carry unique wounds. They see what could be. They offer what’s needed. They’re usually rejected by the very ones they’re sent to save.

But here’s the prophetic truth: The vinedresser’s testimony becomes evidence. Their rejected service becomes witness. Their tears become intercession. And their departure? Sometimes it starts the clock on that final year of grace.

Are we in that final year of grace?

When Kingdoms Eclipse the Kingdom

The Temple Chant

Jeremiah warned: “Do not trust in these deceptive words: ‘This is the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord'” (Jeremiah 7:4). Today’s version? “We’re growing! We’re relevant! We’re reaching the culture!”

But institutional pride is not spiritual power. Packed pews don’t equal pure hearts. We’re building temples of applause while Jesus stands outside, knocking—not at our cathedral doors, but at the door of our hearts.

I watched it happen in the 1980s. Jimmy Swaggart’s ministry reached millions—crusades, television, music that moved hearts to tears. But somewhere, the ministry became a kingdom. The messenger eclipsed the Message.

God doesn’t share His glory. The pruning was public, painful, and necessary. Not to destroy, but to humble. Not to end, but to redirect. “Every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit” (John 15:2).

The Fruit Inspector Cometh

When young seekers enter our churches, what fruit do they find?

  • Galatians 5 fruit? Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness?
  • Or plastic fruit? Programs, performances, productions?

Jesus warned: “You will recognize them by their fruits” (Matthew 7:16). Not attendance. Not budgets. Not branding. Fruit.

The Hope in the Pruning

God prunes what He loves. He disciplines His children (Hebrews 12:6). The shears in His hand aren’t weapons—they’re tools of restoration.

Where should seekers go?

Look for churches with pruning scars. Leaders humbled and healed. Congregations marked by costly obedience through suffering.

Find places digging around roots, adding manure of repentance, waiting for true fruit. These communities exist—usually smaller, always authentic, forever marked by encounters with the living God.

The Choice: Living Tree or Whitewashed Tomb

Now every church—every believer—stands at the ancient fork:

The Wide Path: Whitewashed Tombs

Jesus reserved His harshest words for this choice:

Markers:

  • Orthodox outside, dead inside
  • Protecting tradition over presence
  • Reciting truth without transformation
  • Offering hungry seekers stones painted like bread
  • Counting attendance while heaven counts fruit

The Narrow Path: Trees of Life

Another way—costly, uncomfortable, glorious:

Markers:

  • Roots deep in living water, not tradition
  • Bearing fruit that feeds the hungry
  • Submitting to the Vinedresser’s shears
  • Choosing disturbance over death
  • Becoming shelter for seekers, not museum for saints

The Question That Determines Everything

Will you be a tree that feeds the hungry or a tomb that impresses the religious?

Young seekers aren’t looking for catechisms. They want Christ. They smell death through whitewash. They hunger for life, even from scarred, pruned trees.

Choose now. The Vinedresser waits with His shears. The season of grace won’t last.

The Urgent Hour

Judgment begins at God’s house because we know better. We have the Word. The Spirit. The history. When we offer religious performance instead of living water, we’re failing—we’re under judgment.

But mercy knocks. The Gardener offers one more season. The question: Submit to shears, or wait for the axe?

This generation hungers for God. Let’s stop feeding them everything else. Submit to pruning, return to first love, bear fruit that remains.

The alternative? “Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire” (Matthew 7:19).

The choice is ours. The hour is late. The Gardener is waiting.

This has been “A View From the Nest.” And that is the way I see it! What say you?