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A Reflection on Thanksgiving

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

🍂 A Thanksgiving Reflection 🍂

Now that the turkey has been carved and the last slice of pie has been served, let’s pause together and remember the blessings we’ve enjoyed this past year.

I want to take a moment to thank each of you—my faithful readers and supporters—for walking this journey with me. Your encouragement, your comments, and simply your presence here have been a gift I don’t take lightly.

Thanksgiving is more than a holiday; it’s a reminder that gratitude turns ordinary days into extraordinary ones. As we look back on the year behind us, may we carry forward hearts full of thankfulness, and may we look ahead with hope and prayer for continued blessings in the year to come.

From my heart to yours: may peace, joy, and abundance overflow in your homes and lives.

Happy Thanksgiving, dear friends. 🦃✨

🕊 Thanksgiving: Consecration, Not Consumption

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

A call to remember Plymouth Rock, Bradford’s lesson, and the biblical mandate of gratitude.



🌾 The Forgotten Feast

Thanksgiving in America has become a spectacle of excess—oversized turkeys, crowded tables, and competitive pie-making. But the original feast at Plymouth Rock was not about indulgence. It was about survival. It was about consecration.

In November 1620, the Pilgrims arrived in New England battered by storms and burdened by hope. They landed late in the season, with little time to prepare for winter. Disease, exposure, and starvation swept through the colony. By spring, nearly half had perished.

Their early experiment in communal living—mandated by their charter—required shared labor and shared harvest. It was a form of enforced equality. But instead of unity, it bred resentment and idleness. Governor William Bradford recorded that this system “was found to breed much confusion and discontent.” Young men balked at laboring for others’ families without reward. Productivity collapsed. Hunger deepened.

In 1623, Bradford made a bold change. He divided the land into private plots, allowing each family to plant and reap for themselves. The results were immediate. “This had very good success,” he wrote, “for it made all hands very industrious.” The colony flourished. The harvest came. And the Pilgrims gave thanks—not for abundance, but for survival.

📖 Scripture’s Model for Gratitude

The Pilgrims’ story echoes timeless biblical truths:

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

“Whoever works his land will have plenty of bread.” (Proverbs 12:11)

“Whatever one sows, that will he also reap.” (Galatians 6:7)

“If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat.” (2 Thessalonians 3:10)

And perhaps most fitting of all:

“Better a handful with contentment than abundance with strife.” (Ecclesiastes 4:6)

This verse pierces through the noise of modern Thanksgiving. It reminds us that peace and gratitude in simplicity are far richer than anxiety in excess.

⚖️ A Warning for Our Time

Today, we see an ever-expanding version of Bradford’s failed experiment. Promises of equality without responsibility have produced not abundance but poverty. Dependency has replaced diligence. Complaints about the cost of a Thanksgiving meal drown out gratitude for the little we have.

History warns us: when government replaces God as provider, bondage follows. When entitlement replaces stewardship, harvests shrink. When gratitude is lost, pride takes root.

The Pilgrims endured loss, yet they gave thanks. We endure abundance, yet we complain. This is the danger of complacency: forgetting the heights from which we have fallen.

🔔 A Pastoral Admonition

Beloved, Thanksgiving is not about who can host the biggest feast, carve the largest turkey, or bake the most pies. It is about a heart that has found contentment in what the Lord has provided. It is about gratitude in little or much.

Let us return Thanksgiving to its rightful place:

A daily rhythm of gratitude, morning and evening.

A national remembrance that every breath is mercy.

A consecrated altar where families pause to pray, repent, and give thanks for another year of life.

Let the Church lead the way. Let us honor God above government, stewardship above entitlement, and gratitude above complaint. For when we return to Him in thanksgiving, we will find not only provision for today but the promise of abundance in eternity.

“Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” (Revelation 19:9)

Now that’s a Thanksgiving meal I pray I get invited to!

Unmasking the Masquerade: Testing the Spirits in an Age of Digital Deception

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

In recent weeks, headlines have sounded an alarm across the digital landscape. Popular accounts on X were once thought to be American voices of patriotism. However, these were actually foreign operations disguised as frontline journalism. Behind the avatars of stars and stripes were individuals posting from Turkey. Others were posting from Nigeria, Eastern Europe, and beyond. These individuals hid behind the fiery rhetoric of “citizen journalists” and “grassroots patriots.” Their goal was not dialogue but division—sowing discord, amplifying outrage, and spreading lies under the guise of neighborly concern.

The exposure of these masqueraders is more than a digital scandal; it is a prophetic signal. Scripture warned long ago that “certain individuals have secretly slipped in among you… ungodly people, who pervert the grace of our God” (Jude 4). What Jude described in the first century now plays out in real time across our social feeds. Wolves in sheep’s clothing have traded pulpits for platforms, but the strategy remains unchanged: infiltrate, deceive, and divide.

This moment calls for vigilance. John’s exhortation rings louder than ever: “Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world” (1 John 4:1). The Bereans modeled this discernment, examining the Scriptures daily to confirm truth (Acts 17:11). In our age, the same diligence must be applied—not only to sermons but to headlines, viral posts, and trending hashtags. Outrage is the bait; deception is the hook.

The danger is not merely foreign influence but spiritual intoxication. Peter’s warning is urgent: “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour” (1 Peter 5:8). Emotional reactions—anger, fear, tribal loyalty—are the fuel of deception. To be sober-minded is to resist the intoxication of outrage. It means walking in clarity and peace even when the digital storm rages. Paul echoes this call in 2 Corinthians 11:14, reminding us that “Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light.” The masquerade is not new; only the costumes have changed.

The Prophetic Parallel

Consider the prophetic parallel: these foreign-run accounts cloaked themselves in patriotism or compassion. Their origin was foreign and their intent was division. They did not seek mere popularity or digital influence. Their purpose was to inject falsehood into the public square. They pretended to be legitimate voices concerned for our welfare. It is sinister and evil. They speak the language of their father—the devil—who is the father of lies (John 8:44). Just as Satan disguises himself as an angel of light, these voices masquerade as patriots. They pose as journalists or neighbors, but their words are poisoned. The saints must be vigilant. They should store up truth that cannot be corrupted. They must refuse to be swayed by the counterfeit compassion of deceivers.

And so the Word presses us further: “Look to yourselves, that you do not lose those things we worked for, but that you may receive a full reward” (2 John 1:8). The danger is not only being misled by false voices, but losing the very testimony and inheritance we have been entrusted with. Vigilance is not optional—it is the safeguard of salvation’s reward.

The watchman’s task is unchanged. Ezekiel 33 describes the watchman who sees danger and sounds the alarm. Today, the danger is digital infiltration, and the alarm is discernment. The church must not be naïve. Many false prophets have gone out into the world, and many false voices have gone online into our feeds. The masquerade has been unmasked, but the masquerade itself continues. The saints must be vigilant, discerning, Berean, and sober-minded.

Yes, Elon Musk’s “unmask” feature on X has exposed many false profiles, but the greater unmasker is the Holy Spirit. “When He, the Spirit of truth, comes, He will guide you into all truth” (John 16:13). The Spirit is our safeguard, our discerner, and our guide. Jesus Himself declared: “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me” (John 10:27). The best defense against deception is not technology, but obedience to the Shepherd’s voice.

✒️ Closing Admonition

Take heed, little flock. Many voices seek to ensnare, but you shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free. The Shepherd’s voice is clear, and His sheep will obey no other.

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“Let God be true, and every man a liar” (Romans 3:4).

The Shutdown: A Barnyard Parable

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

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

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

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?