Category Articles

Once Born, Once Slain, Once Risen, Now Reigns

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

The church has been lulled into cycles of repetition, borrowing pagan customs and sentimental traditions that obscure the gospel. But the Word of God cuts sharper than any ritual. Here are four truths that stand immovable, each one a pillar of the greatest story ever told.

Christ was born once.

The incarnation was not a seasonal myth or a cycle to be replayed every December. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). That moment in Bethlehem was the opening act of redemption, the eternal God stepping into human frailty. He came once, and that was enough. To rehearse His birth as if it were an annual event is to reduce the incarnation to pagan repetition.

Christ died once.

The cross was not symbolic theater—it was the decisive sacrifice. “Christ died for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God” (1 Peter 3:18). Pagan gods die endlessly in cycles, but Christ’s death was final. It satisfied the wrath of God, fulfilled prophecy, and broke the curse. There is no need for repetition; the penalty has been paid in full.

Christ rose once.

The resurrection is the hinge of history. “He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures” (1 Corinthians 15:4). Unlike Baal or Sol Invictus, Christ does not rise each year with the sun. He rose once, never to die again. His empty tomb is the triumph that validates our faith and secures eternal life. This is not seasonal hope—it is eternal reality.

Christ forever reign.

The story does not end at the tomb. “He must reign until He has put all His enemies under His feet” (1 Corinthians 15:25). His ascension enthroned Him, and His reign is ongoing. He is not a Babe to be revisited each December—He is the King who rules now and will return in glory. The finale is not nostalgia but the appearing of Christ in power.

Admonition

Stop rehearsing pagan cycles. Stop lighting candles for what has already been fulfilled. Preach the gospel: once born, once slain, once risen, now reigns—soon to return.

A Doll in the Manger and Christ at the Door

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

“These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. Their worship of me is made up only of rules taught by men.” — Isaiah 29:13

The sanctuary glowed with soft candlelight, the kind that makes even the most ordinary pews look holy. Pine garlands draped across the altar rail, their scent mingling with the faint sweetness of cider served in the fellowship hall. Children in wool scarves shuffled in, their cheeks red from the December wind, eyes wide with anticipation. Tonight was the living nativity.

Beyond the sanctuary doors, neighbors streamed in from the frosted streets, families bundled in scarves and mittens, children tugging at their parents’ hands. They came as pilgrims of Christmastide, drawn by tradition, eager to witness the pageant that had become a yearly ritual. For them, this was more than a performance—it was a seasonal pilgrimage, a chance to feel the warmth of belonging, to rehearse the story that had been told for centuries.

The choir hummed carols, voices rising like incense. A hush fell as the curtain opened: there it was, the manger scene. Mary in her blue robe, Joseph with his staff, shepherds bowing low, wise men bearing gifts. And at the center, swaddled in cloth, the baby Jesus—rosy-cheeked, perfectly still, lying in the cradle of straw. The crowd leaned forward, hearts warmed by nostalgia. Cameras clicked. Parents whispered, “Isn’t it beautiful?”

The ritual unfolded with precision. Scripture was read, candles lifted, hymns sung. The babe in its cradle, adored by all, a symbol of innocence and hope. The people smiled, satisfied that they had honored the season.

But outside, beyond the stained-glass glow, the wind howled. A figure stood at the door, unseen, unwelcomed. His breath rose in the cold night air as He knocked softly, waiting. His hands bore scars of nails. His eyes searched not for pageantry but for hearts.

Inside, the doll received worship. Outside, the Living Christ was left in the dark.

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” — Revelation 3:20

Expect the Unexpected

Allen Frederick Leave a comment



For four hundred years the heavens were silent. “The word of the LORD was rare in those days; there was no widespread revelation” (1 Samuel 3:1). From Malachi to Matthew, no prophet spoke, no angel appeared, and generations were conditioned to believe nothing would ever change. Yet at the appointed time, “when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth His Son” (Galatians 4:4).

Zechariah & Elizabeth

They prayed for a child. Years of barrenness and advancing age convinced them it was no longer in the cards. Discouragement? Perhaps. Resignation? Certainly. Biology said it was too late. Yet Gabriel appeared in the temple and declared, “Your prayer has been heard” (Luke 1:13). Heaven answered a prayer long thought dead. Their doubts remind us that God’s timing often collides with our resignation. His mercy surprises us when we least expect it.

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts,
Nor are your ways My ways,” says the Lord.
 “For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
So are My ways higher than your ways,
And My thoughts than your thoughts. Isaiah 55:8-9

Mary

Mary wasn’t seeking an immaculate conception. She wasn’t imagining herself as the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy. She was simply living quietly in Nazareth. Yet Gabriel greeted her: “You have found favor with God” (Luke 1:30). Her first response was confusion: “How can this be, since I do not know a man?” (Luke 1:34). Mary’s bewilderment shows us that favor often comes wrapped in impossibility, and surrender is the only doorway to miracle.

Joseph

Joseph’s world collapsed when he learned Mary was pregnant. Human reasoning told him the obvious: she had been unfaithful. He resolved to end the betrothal quietly, because he knew how this works… except heaven interrupted. “Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 1:20). Joseph’s wrestling reminds us that obedience often requires us to lay down logic and trust God’s word above our assumptions.

Shepherds

Shepherds were the lowest of the low, never picked first, always picked last. They weren’t expecting anything spectacular to happen in their lives. Yet God needed a witness. “Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people” (Luke 2:10). The angelic choir split the skies above their fields, not the palace or the temple. The shepherds remind us that heaven’s glory often comes to the overlooked. God delights in choosing those who are last to be first. (Matt 20:16)



The Admonition

None of them were looking. None of them were expecting. Yet each was chosen for a divine appointment. Heaven broke silence, history shifted, and God did what man could not.

He came unto His own, and His own received Him not (John 1:11). More missed His birth than experienced it. The angelic choir did not awaken the whole town; only the shepherds saw. The world slept while heaven sang. And so it will be again. “For as in the days before the flood, they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day that Noah entered the ark, and did not know until the flood came and took them all away, so also will the coming of the Son of Man be” (Matthew 24:38–39).

Beloved, this is not a season for nostalgia. Advent is not merely remembrance of Bethlehem—it is readiness for the skies. “Watch therefore, for you do not know what hour your Lord is coming” (Matthew 24:42). “Therefore you also be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect” (Matthew 24:44). “In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet… the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed” (1 Corinthians 15:52).

With all these witnesses and with the Scriptures as our foundation, we know Jesus will soon appear. We do not know when, but we are without excuse—for He told us He would return, and He told us how. “If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself” (John 14:3). “Behold, I am coming quickly, and My reward is with Me, to give to every one according to his work” (Revelation 22:12).

Therefore, we must believe and be ready. “Blessed are those servants whom the master, when he comes, will find watching” (Luke 12:37). “Let us not sleep, as others do, but let us watch and be sober” (1 Thessalonians 5:6). “For yet a little while, and He who is coming will come and will not tarry” (Hebrews 10:37).

The Watchman’s Call

Do not be lulled to sleep by ritual or routine. Do not be distracted by the noise of the world. Heaven broke silence once, and it will break silence again. Expect the Unexpected. Believe His word. Be ready for His appearing.

Reservoirs, Civilizations, and the Church’s Mission

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

Long before our highways and reservoirs, there was the Indus Valley Civilization — one of the world’s earliest advanced societies. They thrived between 5,000 and 3,500 years ago in what is now Pakistan and northwest India. Their cities were marvels of planning: paved streets, sewage systems, irrigation channels, and cisterns that stored precious water. For centuries they flourished, but when the rains ceased and the inflow slowed, their reservoirs and rivers could no longer sustain them. Over time, the people dispersed, their great cities abandoned, undone not by war but by drought.


That history came to mind as I drove past the Oneida Valley Reservoir this week. Through the windshield I saw the shallow waterline, the exposed banks, the tired look of a system running on yesterday’s supply. And I thought of the church in our time.

The people gather as the season of Hope, Joy, Love, and Light approaches. They light candles, sing carols, and preach sermons. Yet many hearts are heavy, struggling to believe tomorrow will be brighter. Joy is thin, divisions are common, and Love is misplaced — poured into the institution or the season rather than the Lord Himself. The Light flickers, but shadows linger.

The watchman cries out with the words of Jeremiah:“My people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed out cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water” (Jeremiah 2:13).Do you not see? Our reservoir cannot survive on yesterday’s water. Hope cannot be sustained by slogans, Joy cannot be manufactured by programs, Love cannot be replaced by sentiment, and Light cannot shine without Christ Himself. We need fresh inflow — daily bread, living water, the Spirit poured anew — or our reservoir will run dry.

Even now, homes affected by low water levels are advised to reduce usage. Conservation helps, but it cannot restore the reservoir. The only way the water rises again is for the heavens to open and pour down refreshing rain. We can preserve all we want, but without a fresh inflow, the supply will eventually dry up.

Barna’s research confirms the warning. The number of religious “nones” — those with no faith affiliation — has climbed steadily, now representing nearly a quarter of U.S. adults. It is the sign of an organization failing its primary mission: to bring living water to a thirsty world. And when our own supply is uncertain, when we are in survival mode, our ability to offer even a drink of cold water to “the least of these” (Matthew 10:42) is greatly affected. A reservoir that has been dammed up for years cannot refresh others; its shallow waters leave both the church and the world parched.

Yet the promise remains: “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me… out of his heart will flow rivers of living water” (John 7:37–38). Christ is the Living Water. His Spirit is the inflow that renews Hope, restores Joy, rekindles Love, and shines Light into the darkness. And the truth is simple enough to remember as you drive past shallow waters or flickering lights:

Know Jesus, know peace. No Jesus, no peace.

A Proclamation for Advent

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

The Herald’s Proclamation

We are not entertainers, nor seasonal well-wishers. We are heralds of the Most High, entrusted with a royal decree that cannot be diluted or deferred. The gospel we proclaim is not a cultural tradition, nor a sentimental greeting—it is the eternal announcement of victory through Jesus Christ.

We declare that:

Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures.

He was buried, and He rose again on the third day.

He ascended in triumph and will return in glory.

This is the good news—the power of God unto salvation for all who believe. It is the message entrusted to us, the trumpet blast that awakens the nations, the light that pierces the darkness.

We are commanded to preach repentance and forgiveness of sins in His name to all nations. We are charged to make disciples, baptize, and teach obedience to His Word. We are sent as witnesses, empowered by the Spirit, to proclaim liberty to the captives and sight to the blind.

We do not gather to flatter Him with birthday wishes, as though He were a man bound by time. We gather to proclaim Him as the eternal Son, the risen Lord, the reigning King.

Final Charge

Preach the gospel—not wish Him a happy birthday.