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Hollow Rabbit Religion

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

The Hollow Rabbit Problem

Easter is the second most important candy‑eating occasion of the year for Americans, who consumed 7 billion pounds of candy in 2001, according to the National Confectioner’s Association.

  • In 2000, Americans spent nearly $1.9 billion on Easter candy, while Halloween sales were nearly $2 billion; Christmas, an estimated $1.4 billion; and Valentine’s Day, just over $1 billion.
  • Ninety million chocolate Easter bunnies are produced each year.
  • Chocolate bunnies should be eaten ears first, according to 76% of Americans. Five percent said bunnies should be eaten feet first, while 4% favored eating the tail first.
  • Adults prefer milk chocolate (65%) to dark chocolate (27%).

They are fanciful, often gold‑wrapped, usually elegantly packaged, full‑color presentations. From all appearances, those chocolate creatures are a delightful treat to eat. On the surface these beauties are elegant and proud. Inside, however, they are an empty hollow shell.

I do not know about you, but I prefer solid chocolate rabbits over the hollow ones. I much prefer to bite into a solid milk chocolate bunny. I have been fooled in the past into purchasing what looked like a solid chocolate rabbit only to get home and find out it was not. One bite is all it took to know I had been deceived. Although it had the appearance of being solid, it did not pass the bite test. Of course, I could have employed the pinch test at the store, but that would have only left a broken bunny on the shelf where once stood a proud whole rabbit.

After Easter, mark‑downs can be found on the broken chocolate rabbits even before the holiday buying season ends. The chocolate still tastes as good as it did when it was in the form of a full standing rabbit, but since it now resembles a pile of chocolate flakes, it lost some of its value. Although the chocolate did not lose any flavor, it was no longer pretty to look at.

Hollow rabbits outsell solid rabbits primarily because of the cost. You can get a gigantic 12‑inch rabbit for about half the price of a much smaller solid one. Children love the fact that they have this huge chocolate rabbit to eat, when in reality the amount of actual chocolate in that 12‑inch rabbit is less than half of the smaller sized version.

Outwardly these proud rabbits stand tall, but apply just a little amount of pressure and they will crumble. There is no real substance to them. They are of little value when faced with just the slightest bit of pressure. By contrast, their solid shelf‑mates can withstand tremendous pressure. Have you ever tried biting the head off a solid rabbit?

Solid or hollow — which do you prefer?

Solid or Hollow Worship

Our church worship could be looked at from the viewpoint of solid or hollow. Are we worshipping with our whole hearts, souls, minds, spirits, and strength, or is it more of an outward show to win favorable ratings from onlookers?

“In the fifth year of King Rehoboam, Shishak king of Egypt attacked Jerusalem. He carried off the treasures of the temple of the Lord and the treasures of the royal palace. He took everything, including the gold shields Solomon had made. So King Rehoboam made bronze shields to replace them and assigned these to the commanders of the guard on duty at the entrance to the royal palace. Whenever the king went to the Lord’s temple, the guards bore the shields, and afterward they returned them to the guardroom.” (2 Chronicles 12:9–11)

The gold was gone. It was replaced with bronze. Although it had an appearance of gold, it wasn’t. Bronze is far cheaper to produce than gold and thus less valuable. Although stripped of all the gold, the king made a show of worship anyway. If anyone came to steal these bronze shields, would they get anything of value when compared to the golden shields that had been there? Are we taking away anything of value from our worship services — any golden nuggets?

“Be careful not to let anyone rob you of this faith through a shallow and misleading philosophy. Such a person follows human traditions and the world’s way of doing things rather than following Christ.” (Colossians 2:8, GW)

All across our land many church houses are filled with bronze where once stood gold. What once was solid biblical preaching has been replaced with hollow messages of self‑improvement. These messengers appear to preach solid biblical counsel, yet their teachings contain no substance. Unable to offer the solid meat of God’s Word, they are left with only hollow arguments to the world’s ills. These solid‑looking brass shields, though golden in appearance, lack the value of pure gold.

It may be milk and it may be chocolate, but is it solid? What is your worship made of? Will it stand up under pressure? What is behind that golden appearance? Is it solid or simply hollow? Can you worship when times are rough? Has the enemy come in and taken all the value out of your salvation experience and left you with just a semblance of true worship?

“But those who are waiting for the Lord will have new strength; they will get wings like eagles: running, they will not be tired, and walking, they will have no weariness.” (Isaiah 40:31, BBE)

The Status Quo Has Got to Go

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

Introduction

There comes a moment in every generation when polite silence becomes a form of rebellion against God, and when maintaining the familiar becomes more dangerous than confronting the truth. Scripture shows us that this moment arrives whenever God sends help, correction, or reform – and the people who need it most refuse to receive it. As John writes, “He came unto his own, and his own received him not.” (John 1:11, KJV)

Light Exposes What Darkness Protects

Jesus explained the deeper reason for this resistance: “Light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.” (John 3:19-20, KJV) People do not reject truth because it is unclear; they reject it because it is inconvenient. Light reveals what darkness has been protecting, and the status quo prefers the safety of shadows to the discomfort of exposure.

The Diagnosis: A People Who Will Not Turn

Long before Christ walked the earth, Isaiah diagnosed the spiritual disease that afflicts every generation that refuses correction. God declared, “Make the heart of this people fat, and make their ears heavy, and shut their eyes; lest they see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and convert, and be healed.” (Isaiah 6:10, KJV) The tragedy is not that healing is unavailable, but that the people will not turn to receive it.

Jesus repeated this same diagnosis in His own ministry, saying, “For this people’s heart is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they have closed; lest at any time they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and should understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them.” (Matthew 13:15, KJV) The disease is spiritual stubbornness – a refusal to hear, to see, to understand, and therefore a refusal to be healed.

Moses: Resisted by His Own People

Before Moses ever confronted Pharaoh, he confronted the unbelief of his own people. When he attempted to intervene between two Israelites, one of them retorted, “Who made thee a prince and a judge over us?” (Exodus 2:14, KJV) The very people crying out for deliverance resisted the deliverer God sent.

Jeremiah: Punished for Telling the Truth

Jeremiah warned Judah of coming judgment, but instead of repentance, he received hostility. The leaders declared, “This man is worthy to die: for he hath prophesied against this city.” (Jeremiah 26:11, KJV) Later, they cast him into a dungeon (Jeremiah 38:6) for daring to speak what God commanded.

Amos: Told to Take His Message Elsewhere

When Amos confronted Israel’s corruption, Amaziah the priest told him, “O thou seer, go, flee thee away into the land of Judah… but prophesy not again any more at Bethel.” (Amos 7:12-13, KJV) The status quo always tries to export the voice that confronts it.

Isaiah: A People Who Prefer Smooth Things

Isaiah described a people who begged their prophets to stop telling the truth: “Speak unto us smooth things, prophesy deceits.” (Isaiah 30:10, KJV) They preferred comforting lies to uncomfortable truth.

Stephen: Exposing the Pattern

Stephen summarized the entire history of resistance in one devastating sentence: “Ye do always resist the Holy Ghost: as your fathers did, so do ye.” (Acts 7:51, KJV) The problem was not new; it was inherited.

Jesus: Without Honor Among His Own

Even the Son of God experienced the sting of familiarity: “A prophet is not without honour, but in his own country, and among his own kin, and in his own house.” (Mark 6:4, KJV) The people who watched Him grow up could not imagine God using someone they thought they already understood.

Samuel: The Rejection Behind the Rejection

When Israel demanded a king, God told Samuel, “They have not rejected thee, but they have rejected me.” (1 Samuel 8:7, KJV) Every rejection of God’s messenger is ultimately a rejection of God’s correction.

The Danger of a Hardened Heart

Hebrews warns repeatedly, “To day if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts.” (Hebrews 3:7-8, 15, KJV) A hardened heart is the final defense of a dying system. Proverbs adds the sobering consequence: “He, that being often reproved hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy.” (Proverbs 29:1, KJV)

A Loving Rebuke

This is not rebellion, arrogance, or a call to chaos. It is a call to truth, courage, and spiritual clarity. Real love does not protect dysfunction, preserve decay, or defend a system God is trying to dismantle. Real love says, “Enough. This is not working. The status quo has got to go.”

Final Call to Return

God has never left His people without a path home. Even in the midst of judgment, He speaks mercy. He says, “And I will give them an heart to know me, that I am the Lord: and they shall be my people, and I will be their God: for they shall return unto me with their whole heart.” (Jeremiah 24:7, KJV)

This is not a political strategy. This is not a cultural campaign. This is the mercy of God extended to a people who have lost their way.

“If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:14, KJV)

As Jesus said to the churches, “He that hath an ear, let him hear.”

GOD’S SAVINGS TIME: REDEEMING THE TIME WE HAVE

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

The Ritual That Changes Nothing

Twice a year we perform the same ritual. We move the hands of our clocks forward and backward as if time itself were clay in our grasp. We complain about losing an hour or gaining one. We often discuss “saving time,” although no one has ever saved a single second. The sun still rises and sets on the schedule God ordained in Genesis. The day remains twenty‑four hours long, no matter how many times we adjust the numbers glowing on our screens.

Daylight Savings Time is a perfect picture of human illusion. It feels important, but it accomplishes nothing of eternal value. It shifts the clock, but it does not shift the heart. It rearranges the hours, but it does not redeem them. It is a semi-annual ritual. It signifies our desire to feel in control of something we cannot command.

Scripture, however, calls us to something far weightier. We are not commanded to save time. We are commanded to redeem it.

Redeeming Time, Not Rearranging It

Paul writes, “Redeeming the time, because the days are evil.” (Ephesians 5:16). The word redeem means to buy back, to seize, to rescue from loss. It is the language of urgency, stewardship, and eternal purpose. We cannot redeem the hours on a clock, but we can redeem the opportunities God places before us. We can redeem conversations, relationships, moments of influence, and windows of grace.

Paul reinforces this in Colossians 4:5: “Walk in wisdom toward them that are without, redeeming the time.” This is not about managing schedules. It is about reaching souls. It is about recognizing that every moment carries eternal weight.

Daylight Savings Time pretends to give us more daylight. God’s Savings Time calls us to walk in the light while it is still available.

The Call to Watchfulness

Daylight Savings Time is a harmless ritual, but spiritually it mirrors a far more dangerous pattern. Twice a year we adjust our clocks without adjusting our lives. We move the hands forward or backward. We feel as though we have accomplished something meaningful. Yet, nothing in eternity has changed. The sun rises and sets exactly as God ordained. The hours remain the same. Only our perception shifts.

In the same way, many believers have been lulled into a false sense of security. This is due to soothing messages and comfortable routines. A Christianity that promises rest without responsibility can also be misleading. We have been told to relax and settle in. We are encouraged to enjoy the blessings of God as if the Kingdom were a recliner. We treat discipleship as though it were a leisure activity. But Scripture paints a very different picture. The Kingdom of God is not a lounge chair; it is a field. It is not a place for slumber; it is a place for labor. It is not a retreat from responsibility; it is a call to action.

Paul’s warning becomes clearer in this light: “Knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep.” (Romans 13:11).. He is not speaking to the world; he is speaking to the Church. He is speaking to those who have drifted into spiritual Standard Time. They have become comfortable, predictable, and unhurried. They are unaware of the lateness of the hour. He follows with a phrase that cuts through every illusion of delay: “The night is far spent, the day is at hand.” (Romans 13:12).

This is not a poetic flourish. It is a diagnosis. The night is not approaching; it is already advanced. The day is not distant; it is pressing in. The time is late, and the work is urgent. The fields are not waiting for us to feel ready; they are already white for harvest. Jesus said, “Lift up your eyes… the fields are white already to harvest.” (John 4:35). Harvest time is not a season for sleep. Proverbs warn, “He that sleepeth in harvest is a son that causeth shame.” (Proverbs 10:5).

The Church has been comforted by complacency, but the Kingdom is calling us into wakefulness. We are not here to adjust clocks; we are here to redeem time. We are not here to preserve our comfort; we are here to rescue the lost. We are not here to drift through days; we are here to work while it is still day, because Jesus Himself declared, “Night is coming, when no one can work.” (John 9:4).

This is the heart of God’s Savings Time. It is not about gaining an hour of sunlight. It is about seizing the hour of salvation. It is about recognizing that every moment carries eternal weight. It is about refusing to sleep through the harvest while souls hang in the balance. It is about waking up, rising up, and stepping into the fields before the final night falls.

The Fields Are White, Not Waiting

Jesus told His disciples, “Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest.” (John 4:35). The harvest is not someday. The harvest is not when we feel ready. The harvest is not when the Church is comfortable. The harvest is now.

Proverbs adds its own warning: “He that sleepeth in harvest is a son that causeth shame.” (Proverbs 10:5). We are not called to sleep in harvest. We are called to labor in it.

Daylight Savings Time may shift the clock, but it does not shift the urgency of the harvest. Souls are perishing. Hearts are hardening. The night is approaching. The Church can’t afford to drift into spiritual Standard Time. Routine, complacency, and delay must be avoided. God is calling us into His Savings Time.

Numbering Our Days

Moses prayed, “Teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.” (Psalm 90:12). Numbering our days is not about counting them. It is about valuing them. It means understanding that every day is a gift. Each moment involves stewardship. Every opportunity is a divine appointment.

We cannot save time. But we can redeem it. We can invest it. We can sow it into eternity.

Daylight Savings Time is a ritual that changes nothing. God’s Savings Time is a calling that changes everything.

The Question That Matters

The question is not whether we have adjusted our clocks. The question is whether we have adjusted our lives.

Are we redeeming the time? Are we awake? Are we working while it is still day? Are we living in God’s Savings Time?

Because the night is coming. The trumpet will sound. And the work will be finished.

From Chains of Captivity to Prayers for Victory

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

A Letter from St. Patrick to a Nation in Need

To the people of this land, in a time of confusion and fear, from Patrick, a servant of Christ Jesus.

I was not born a saint. I was not born a hero. I was a boy who ignored the living God until chains taught me to pray. They took me from my home. They dragged me across the sea. They sold me into slavery in a land whose language I did not know. I fed animals in the cold. I slept on the ground. I feared the night. But in the fields of my captivity, the Lord had mercy on me. He opened my blind eyes. He broke my proud heart. He became my only hope.

When He delivered me, I believed the story was finished. But God does not free a man only for himself. He frees him for others. In a dream I heard the voices of the Irish calling out, “Come walk among us once more.” And the Spirit of God burned within me. The land that broke me became the land I was sent to heal.

I returned with no army, no wealth, no power—only the gospel of Jesus Christ. I walked into the halls of kings and the camps of druids. I faced curses, threats, and death. But Christ was my shield. Christ was my courage. Christ was my victory. I did not change Ireland. God did. I was only the vessel He forged in chains.

I look upon your nation now. It is anxious, divided, and wandering. It is hungry for truth. I tell you what I learned in my captivity. When a people forget God, they lose themselves. But when a people turn to Him, even the darkest land becomes a place of light.

You do not need luck. You do not need legends. You do not need the trappings of a holiday that has forgotten its own story. You need the living Christ. The same Christ met me in the fields of my slavery. He will also meet you in the wilderness of your time. The same Christ who broke my chains can break yours. The same Christ who sent me back to the land of my captors can send you. He can guide you into the broken places of your own nation.

In my day, I prayed a prayer of armor—a cry for God’s presence to surround me in a land filled with fear and darkness:

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me…

This was not poetry. It was survival. It was surrender. It was the only way to stand in a world at war with truth.

And long after my bones returned to the earth, another Irish believer prayed a similar cry—a prayer you now sing as a hymn:

Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart…Thou my best thought, by day or by night…

BE THOU MY VISION A FITTING SONG FOR A TIME SUCH AS THIS

BE THOU MY VISION a Temple Music Production, all rights reserved

If you want to see revival during your lifetime, pray this just as I did: “Lord, be my vision.” Be my wisdom. Be my strength. Be my shield. Be my everything.”

From chains of captivity to prayers for victory—this is my testimony. Not of who I am, but of who God is.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Patrick, a slave of Christ, and a witness to His mercy.

The Wayward Dresser

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

A neighborhood finally sees the end of a long‑standing wooden menace

Somewhere in a small town in Pennsylvania — For months, a battered dresser stayed on a narrow strip of land. The township maintained this land. It lay sprawled there, unattended. Its warped frame and swollen drawers formed an eyesore. Residents could not ignore it, yet somehow never addressed it. It started as discarded furniture. Slowly, it evolved into a fixture of quiet defiance. The wooden intruder seemed to grow bolder with each passing week.

The dresser did not move or speak, but its presence carried a strange authority. It reclined on its side. It seemed to intentionally pose. Its puffed‑out drawers gave the impression of a chest lifted in pride. Neighbors walked past it with the same uneasy tolerance. It was akin to how one responds to a stray dog refusing to leave the porch. Drivers slowed down to stare. Children pointed out from car windows. Yet no one touched it. Not the landlord. Not the maintenance crew. Not even the township, responsible for mowing the very ground on which it rested.

Like Goliath standing in the Valley of Elah, the dresser’s power came not from action but from endurance. It simply remained, day after day, mocking the neighborhood with its refusal to budge. And like the armies of Israel, an entire community of capable adults adjusted their routines around it. They waited for someone else to take responsibility.

A Giant in the Grass

Residents described the dresser as if it possessed a personality. It seemed to smirk at passersby, daring anyone to challenge its claim to the land. Rain bloated its panels. Sun bleached its finish. Frost cracked its edges. Yet the dresser held its ground with the stubbornness of a giant that believed no one would ever confront it.

The longer it stayed, the more impossible it seemed to remove. What should have been a simple task gradually became a symbol of collective hesitation. The dresser was not strong, but it was unchallenged, and that was enough.

The Arrival of a David

The stalemate ended on an ordinary afternoon. A resident decided that the dresser’s reign had lasted long enough. There was no announcement, no committee meeting, and no official directive. A neighbor quietly offered a tool — a sledgehammer. This gesture was reminiscent of Jonathan placing his sword and shield into David’s hands before the battle.

With this borrowed weapon in hand, the resident approached the dresser. The resident had the calm resolve of someone who had reached the end of patience. The dresser, for the first time in months, appeared vulnerable.

The First Strike

The first swing landed with a sharp crack that echoed across the yard. A drawer burst open, releasing a puff of dust as if the dresser had been holding its breath. A second blow splintered a leg. A third sent fragments scattering across the grass. The giant that had lounged in smug defiance for months was suddenly reduced to a trembling heap of particle board.

As in the biblical account, once the first strike was delivered, help arrived from an unexpected source. A passing neighbor stepped out of her vehicle, surveyed the scene, and gladly joined the effort. Without hesitation, she gathered the fallen pieces. She carried them to the dumpster. She worked with the efficiency of someone who understood the importance of finishing what had begun.

Within minutes, the dresser was gone. The patch of ground it had occupied for so long stood empty. It was now restored to the quiet normality it had been denied.

The Moral of the Story

In the biblical account, Goliath stood in the valley for forty days, taunting Israel with his presence. He did not need to swing a sword or launch an attack. His mere existence, unchallenged, was enough to paralyze an entire army of trained, armored fighting men.

The dresser played the same role. It did not move, speak, or strike. It simply sat there, day after day. It occupied a space it was never meant to occupy. It grew comfortable in its defiance. It mocked the neighborhood with its stubborn refusal to leave. And like Israel’s soldiers, the community adjusted their routines around it. They walked past it. They ignored it and pretended it was not their problem.

That is the quiet danger of tolerated nuisances — and of unrepented sin. What begins as a small inconvenience becomes, over time, an obstacle that feels immovable. What starts as a minor irritation grows into a fixture of defeat. What should have been removed immediately becomes something we learn to live with.

Sin often arrives without fanfare. It simply appears, settles in, and occupies ground it was never meant to hold. It lingers. It mocks. It grows comfortable. It dares anyone to confront it. And the longer it remains unchallenged, the more unbeatable it seems.

The day the dresser fell is a reminder. Giants — wooden or spiritual — collapse the moment someone steps up. They take the first swing and refuse to tolerate what should never have been allowed to stay. Sometimes the greatest victories begin with a simple, decisive moment of clarity: enough.

When that moment comes, the giant falls, the nuisance is removed, and the ground it occupied is restored to peace.

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