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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 We have not withdrawn from culture, but neither have we remained distinct from it.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.

NO KINGS: AN EPISTLE FOR A FRACTURED NATION

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

Introduction: A Nation at a Crossroads

As the United States approaches its two‑hundred‑and‑fiftieth year, we stand at a moment demanding sober reflection. Nations rarely collapse in a single day; they erode slowly, subtly, and predictably. Scripture gives us a mirror in the Book of Judges—a mirror reflecting not only ancient Israel but the modern American condition. Judges is not a children’s tale; it is a national autopsy. Israel had law, covenant, history, and identity, yet the nation disintegrated because it rejected the One who was meant to be its King.

The refrain that echoes through its pages is both diagnosis and verdict: “In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” [Judges 21:25]. This was not enlightenment but erosion, not progress but decay, not liberation but fragmentation.

The Meaning of “No King”

When Scripture declares that Israel had “no king,” it is not describing a political vacuum but a spiritual rebellion. Israel possessed the Law of Moses, the priesthood, the tabernacle, and the memory of God’s mighty acts. What they lacked was a shared center—a unifying authority, a common truth, a moral anchor. They had law but no loyalty, commandments but no commitment, structure but no submission. Thus the psalmist warns: “Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build it.” [Psalm 127:1].

Judges as a Mirror: Collapse Without a Center

Judges 2 summarizes Israel’s downfall: “They turned quickly from the way in which their fathers walked.” [Judges 2:17]. Their turning was swift and intentional. The result was a cycle of rebellion, oppression, desperation, deliverance, and relapse. The judges God raised up brought temporary relief but no lasting transformation, for the people desired rescue without repentance and deliverance without discipleship.

Micah’s homemade religion in Judges 17–18 reveals the heart of the problem. He did not reject religion; he reinvented it. He fashioned idols, hired his own priest, and declared God’s blessing on his own terms. Scripture summarizes this moment with chilling clarity: “Every man did what was right in his own eyes.” [Judges 17:6]. This is the ancient form of what our culture now calls “my truth,” “my reality,” and “my identity.”

The final chapters of Judges show the inevitable end of such thinking: violence, civil war, and near‑annihilation. When a society loses its shared moral center, justice becomes impossible, violence becomes inevitable, and unity becomes unattainable.

A Fractured Republic: Law Without Lordship

As America approaches its 250th year, we must acknowledge that we are no longer a truly “United” States but a fractured one. We possess a supreme law in the Constitution, a Supreme Court, a legislature, and an executive branch. Yet without a shared moral center, even the strongest institutions fracture. We are witnessing the modern expression of Judges: competing truths, competing realities, competing identities, and competing moralities.

The Constitution was never intended to be a self‑sustaining moral engine. It was built upon the assumption that the people themselves possessed a common understanding of right and wrong. John Adams warned that it was made “only for a moral and religious people,” and Scripture affirms the same truth: “Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people.” [Proverbs 14:34].

But today we possess law without loyalty, rights without righteousness, freedom without foundation, and unity without a unifying truth. This is the modern expression of the ancient refrain: “Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” [Judges 21:25]. When truth becomes subjective, law becomes negotiable. When morality becomes personal, justice becomes impossible. When identity becomes tribal, unity becomes unattainable.

Scripture warns: “If the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do?” [Psalm 11:3]. A republic without a shared center cannot remain a republic for long.

A People Who Expect Judges to Do Their Righteousness

There is a tragic irony in our present moment: we have become a people who look to judges to do what we ourselves refuse to do. We demand that courts “judge rightly” while we neglect the weightier matters of the law in our own daily lives. We expect the judiciary to act justly while we abandon justice in our dealings with our neighbors.

Yet Scripture does not assign righteousness to the courts; it assigns it to the people of God. The prophet declares: “He has shown you, O man, what is good… to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.” [Micah 6:8]. Jesus rebuked the Pharisees for the same hypocrisy: “You neglect the weightier matters of the law: justice, mercy, and faithfulness.” [Matthew 23:23]. Isaiah warned a nation seeking legal remedies while refusing moral repentance: “Your hands are full of blood. Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean.” [Isaiah 1:15–16].

John Adams understood this biblical truth: a righteous people do not need to be governed by an army of judges, for righteousness governs them from within. But an unruly people—a people who reject the King—will always become a mob, and mobs cannot sustain a republic.

Christ the Cornerstone

The answer to Israel’s chaos was not merely the arrival of a human king but the restoration of divine kingship. The psalmist declares: “Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord.” [Psalm 33:12]. And the call of 2 Chronicles is not addressed to the world but to the people of God: “If My people who are called by My name will humble themselves and pray…” [2 Chronicles 7:14].

Jesus Christ is not merely a king; He is the King. He is the Chief Cornerstone [Ephesians 2:20], the Rock [1 Corinthians 10:4], the Foundation that cannot be shaken [Hebrews 12:28], and the King of kings and Lord of lords [Revelation 19:16]. Nations tremble, empires fall, republics rise and collapse, but those who build upon the Rock will stand.

Our Lord declared: “Whoever hears these sayings of Mine and does them is like a wise man who built his house on the rock.” [Matthew 7:24]. When the storms come—and they will—the house built upon the Rock will not fall.

Conclusion: Return to the King

Judges is not ancient history; it is a prophetic warning. A society without a King—without a shared center of truth—does not rise into progress; it collapses into Judges. But a people whose King is the King of kings and Lord of lords can stand firm even when the nations tremble.

Let us return to the King. Let us build upon the Rock. Let us stand upon the unshakable foundation of God’s Word, for those who trust in Him will never be moved.

Grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus Christ, the only true King, the Cornerstone who holds all things together. Amen