Tag Church Identity

EATING BREAD BAKED OVER DUNG: HOW THE CHURCH IS FEEDING ON TRUTH COOKED OVER THE WORLD’S FIRE

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

There is a moment in the book of Ezekiel that feels less like ancient prophecy and more like a mirror held up to the modern church. God commands the prophet to bake his bread over a fire fueled by dung. The command is shocking, but the symbolism is unmistakable. The bread itself is not unclean. The contamination comes from the fire beneath it. The fuel is polluted, and therefore the food absorbs the impurity of the flame. “Thus shall the children of Israel eat their bread defiled among the nations whither I will drive them.” (Ezekiel 4:13).

This is the condition of the church today. We are not consuming outright heresy. We are consuming truth that has been cooked over the wrong fire. The bread is still called “Christian,” but the heat that shapes it comes from a furnace God never authorized.

IN THE WORLD — BUT NO LONGER DISTINCT FROM IT

Jesus prayed a prayer that defined the identity of His people: “I pray not that Thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that Thou shouldest keep them from the evil one.” (John 17:15). His intention was never escape. It was distinction. His followers were to remain present in the world without being shaped by it.

Yet the modern church has drifted into a posture where it is fully immersed in the world’s atmosphere and deeply influenced by its fires. We have not withdrawn from culture, but neither have we remained distinct from it. Instead, we have allowed the world’s flames to season our bread, and the smoke of that fire has begun to alter the taste of our theology, our worship, and our worldview.

Paul warned the church with clarity: “Be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind.” (Romans 12:2). Conformity is not always loud. Sometimes it is subtle. Sometimes it is simply the decision to bake the bread over the wrong fire.

THE BREAD IS STILL GOOD — BUT THE FIRE IS FALSE

Ezekiel did not eat filth. He ate bread baked over filth. The distinction is essential. The danger is not always in the message itself. The danger is in the source of the fire that shapes it.

Scripture gives a name to fire that does not originate from God. It calls it strange fire. When Nadab and Abihu brought unauthorized fire into the presence of the Lord, they were not judged for enthusiasm or sincerity. They were judged because the fire they carried was not the fire God had ignited. “And Nadab and Abihu… offered strange fire before the Lord, which He commanded them not. And there went out fire from the Lord, and devoured them.” (Leviticus 10:1–2).

God does not accept fire He did not ignite.

When the church allows its convictions to be shaped by the world’s furnace, it is offering strange fire. When our emotions are stirred more by headlines than by Scripture, we are offering strange fire. When our worldview is formed by influencers rather than apostles, we are offering strange fire. When our spiritual diet is seasoned by the smoke of digital outrage, we are eating bread baked over dung.

Yet this analogy, while powerful, risks being misunderstood or losing its force. Saying “the bread is still good” can unintentionally excuse the fact that the manner in which the bread was prepared—the fire beneath it—did not truly affect the bread’s essence. But the reality is that the WORD, not baked in the HOLY SPIRIT, not drenched in HOLY ANOINTING OIL, is polluted by popular opinions, cultural constructs, denominational sensibilities, and modern times.

We have heard it over and over: THIS IS THE 21st CENTURY, not the 1st century, as if GOD needs to be modernized. This is offering bread baked over dung, not purified by HOLY FIRE and HOLY ANOINTING.

THE MODERN DUNG‑FIRE: THE 24/7 INFORMATION FURNACE

In Ezekiel’s day, the dung‑fire was literal. In our day, it is digital.

The modern dung‑fire is the constant stream of polluted information that saturates the atmosphere of our culture. It is the twenty‑four‑hour news cycle designed to inflame emotion rather than inform. It is the endless scroll of TikTok clips engineered to provoke outrage and addiction. It is the river of X posts, Facebook arguments, influencer monologues, and algorithm‑driven content that disciples the mind without permission.

Jeremiah warned of voices that speak from their own imagination rather than from the mouth of God: “They speak a vision of their own heart, and not out of the mouth of the Lord.” (Jeremiah 23:16). These voices still speak today, only now they speak through screens, feeds, and notifications.

The modern dung‑fire is the fire of disinformation, the fire of emotional manipulation, the fire of half‑truths, the fire of unverified claims, the fire of algorithmic discipleship. It is the fire of immediacy, urgency, and noise. It is the fire of opinion masquerading as truth and outrage masquerading as conviction.

This is the furnace beneath much of the bread the church consumes.

THE WORLD’S FIRE ALWAYS LEAVES A FLAVOR

Bread absorbs the aroma of the flame beneath it, and so does the soul. A message that begins with Scripture but is baked over the heat of cultural anxiety will taste like fear. A sermon that begins with truth but is shaped by the smoke of political fervor will taste like division. A teaching that begins with holiness but is flavored by the fumes of entertainment culture will taste like compromise.

Jesus warned that the eye — the lamp of the body — determines the condition of the whole person. “If therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness.” (Matthew 6:22–23). What we gaze upon shapes what we become.

When the church bakes its message over the world’s fire, the result is predictable: a Gospel that comforts but does not confront, a cross that inspires but does not transform, a faith that encourages but does not sanctify, a Jesus who saves but does not rule.

LIGHTS AND GUIDES CANNOT FEED ON THE WORLD’S FUEL

Jesus declared, “Ye are the light of the world.” (Matthew 5:14). Light does not borrow its glow from darkness. A lamp that draws its oil from polluted sources will flicker, dim, and eventually fail.

We cannot guide the world while consuming the world’s worldview. We cannot illuminate darkness while feeding on the philosophies of darkness. We cannot lead people out of Egypt while eating Egypt’s bread.

A guide who eats contaminated bread becomes a blind guide.

THE CALL IS NOT TO LEAVE THE WORLD — BUT TO STOP LETTING IT SEASON YOUR BREAD

Jesus never prayed for His people to escape the world. He prayed for them to be kept from its corruption. The church is not a monastery hiding from culture. It is a messenger sent into culture. But a messenger cannot carry a pure word if the fire beneath the bread is polluted.

Peter echoed the call to distinction: “As He which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation.” (1 Peter 1:15). Holiness is not isolation. It is purity of source.

THE SOLUTION: RETURN TO GOD’S FIRE

The bread must be baked again — this time over the fire God Himself ignites. It must be shaped by Scripture rather than speculation, by prayer rather than panic, by consecration rather than consumption, by holiness rather than hype, by the fear of the Lord rather than the fear of missing out.

God’s fire purifies. God’s fire clarifies. God’s fire refines. God’s fire reveals. The world’s fire only distorts.

David prayed, “Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.” (Psalm 51:10). Renewal begins when the fire changes.

CONCLUSION: THE DANGER IS NOT THE BREAD — BUT THE FIRE BENEATH IT

Ezekiel’s warning is not a relic of ancient judgment. It is a living word for a church that has forgotten to examine the source of its flame. The bread must be pure. The fire must be holy. The message must be unpolluted. And the church must once again shine with a light that does not come from the world.

The danger is not the bread. The danger is the fire beneath it.

WHAT IS SO ORDINARY ABOUT ORDINARY TIME?

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

A Season the Church Calls Ordinary

Across much of the Christian world, especially within reformed and liturgical traditions, the rhythm of worship is shaped by what is known as the common lectionary. This structured calendar divides the year into seasons—Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, Pentecost, and the long stretch that follows known as Ordinary Time. These seasons were intended to guide congregations through the life of Christ and the story of redemption in a predictable, orderly fashion, giving shape to the church’s worship and teaching throughout the year.

For many congregations, Easter stands as the pinnacle of this cycle. Sanctuaries fill, choirs swell, banners rise, and the church gathers in its greatest numbers to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Yet once Easter morning passes, the atmosphere shifts. The lilies are removed, the choir robes are stored, and the church quietly returns to its familiar routine. Though the weeks that follow are still technically part of Eastertide, the energy fades as congregations drift toward summer schedules and lighter commitments.

Then comes Pentecost Sunday—often acknowledged, sometimes noted, rarely emphasized—and immediately after it, the lectionary enters its longest season: Ordinary Time. The very name suggests a return to normalcy, a settling into the predictable, a season without urgency or intensity. It is the church’s way of saying, “The high moments have passed; now we resume our regular pace.”

But this assumption is precisely what must be challenged, because nothing about the life of the early church was ordinary, nothing about the age we live in is ordinary, and nothing about the risen Christ or the outpoured Spirit invites us into a season of spiritual neutrality. The lectionary may call it ordinary, but heaven does not.

The Church Returns to Routine, but Heaven Does Not

The modern church often treats Easter as a spiritual summit, a moment of heightened celebration followed by a gentle descent back into routine. Yet the early church knew nothing of this rhythm. For them, the resurrection was not an annual observance but a daily reality. Luke tells us, “And with great power gave the apostles witness of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus: and great grace was upon them all.” Acts 4:33. They did not commemorate the empty tomb; they lived in its power. They did not treat Easter as a holiday; they treated it as the beginning of a new creation.

The modern church celebrates the resurrection as an event. The early church lived the resurrection as a lifestyle.

Pentecost: Christmas and Easter Fully Realized

If Easter is the moment the church celebrates Christ’s victory, then Pentecost is the moment the church receives its purpose. In the life of the Living Church of God, Pentecost is not a footnote to Easter; it is the fulfillment of everything Christmas and Easter set in motion.

Christmas is God with us. “They shall call his name Emmanuel.” Isaiah 7:14.

Easter is God for us. “He is not here: for he is risen.” Matthew 28:6.

Pentecost is God in us. “I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.” John 14:18.

At Christmas, Christ came to dwell among humanity. At Easter, Christ conquered death for humanity. At Pentecost, Christ came to dwell within humanity.

Pentecost is not an appendix to Easter; it is the purpose of Easter. The resurrection was the victory; Pentecost was the transfer of power. The resurrection declared Jesus Lord; Pentecost made the church His body. The resurrection opened the tomb; Pentecost opened the heavens.

And yet, in the modern church, Pentecost is often treated as a liturgical afterthought. It is rarely celebrated with the same intensity or expectation as Easter, even though it is the day the church received its identity, its mission, and its power. Heaven, however, has never forgotten Pentecost. Heaven still burns with Pentecostal fire.

Man‑Made Religion Cannot Produce What Only Christ Can Give

The church’s drift into routine is not merely a scheduling issue; it is a spiritual condition. Man‑made religion, with its holidays, symbols, and ceremonies, often becomes devoid of real meaning because it excludes the truth found only in Christ. It offers rhythms without revelation, rituals without relationship, and celebrations without surrender. When Christ is not at the center, even the most sacred observances become hollow.

This is how symbols become idols. This is how holidays become substitutes for holiness. This is how a people who once knew the living God become a people who merely commemorate Him.

Christ did not come to establish a holiday in His honor; He came to establish a people who serve Him. He did not come to create a calendar; He came to create a kingdom. He did not come to inspire seasonal devotion; He came to ignite lifelong discipleship. He did not come to be remembered once a year; He came to be obeyed every day.

“Ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people.” 1 Peter 2:9.

Christ shed His blood to create a people, not a program; a kingdom, not a calendar; a church, not a holiday.

The Early Church Walked in Power — The Modern Church Walks in Caution

When we look at the book of Acts, we see a church that healed the sick, raised the dead, cast out demons, opened blinded eyes, and confronted darkness wherever it appeared. Nothing about their lives was ordinary. Nothing about their gatherings was predictable. Nothing about their witness was safe. They lived in the power of the risen Christ, walked in the fire of the Holy Spirit, and carried the authority of the kingdom of God.

“And by the hands of the apostles were many signs and wonders wrought among the people.” Acts 5:12.

“These that have turned the world upside down are come hither also.” Acts 17:6.

But today, the modern church often turns a blind eye to sin, buries the dead instead of raising them, prays for the sick without expecting healing, tolerates darkness instead of confronting it, and avoids impact to avoid persecution. It chooses safety over surrender, comfort over calling, and predictability over power. The early church walked into cities and demons screamed; the modern church walks into cities and nothing notices.

The early church prayed and prison doors opened; the modern church prays and hopes the service ends on time. The early church preached and hearts were pierced; the modern church preaches and feelings are soothed. The early church lived in the fire of Pentecost; the modern church lives in the fog of “Ordinary Time.”

The Danger of Calling Anything Ordinary

The lectionary’s term “Ordinary Time” may be organizational, but spiritually it is dangerous. It trains the church to expect nothing unusual, nothing supernatural, nothing disruptive, nothing that would require surrender or obedience. Yet Scripture calls believers to the opposite posture.

“See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil.” Ephesians 5:15–16.

“And that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep.” Romans 13:11.

There is no ordinary time for a Spirit‑filled church. There is no ordinary time in a shaking world. There is no ordinary time when the kingdom is advancing. There is no ordinary time when Christ dwells within His people.

The only thing ordinary is the faith we have settled for.

These Are Not Ordinary Days

Look at the world. Look at the nations. Look at the church. Look at the signs of the times. These are not ordinary days. These are prophetic days—days of shaking, days of sifting, days of awakening. The church is acting as though we live in ordinary times, but we do not. We have not lived in ordinary times since Christ rose from the dead. The resurrection ended ordinary. Pentecost ended predictable. The Spirit ended routine.

A Call to the Church Before Pentecost Arrives

Pentecost is approaching, and this is a timely word. The Spirit is calling the church to wake up, rise up, and step into the fire that birthed it. The Spirit is calling us to reject the predictable rhythms of Churchianity and embrace the unpredictable movement of God. The Spirit is calling us to remember that the same power that raised Jesus from the dead now dwells in us.

Christ now dwells with us and works to do His will among us—if we let Him.

Pentecost is not ordinary. Pentecost is not optional. Pentecost is not a footnote. Pentecost is the heartbeat of the church.

May the church awaken. May the fire fall again. May the people of God rise from the ashes of routine and step into the extraordinary days for which we were born.