This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men,” 1925

The ‘end of the world’ captured here by Eliot reflects a collapse of the cultural atmosphere after the violence of World War One. The late Romantic period came to an abrupt end with industrial efficiency. The easily accepted admiration for heroism, community and confident optimism gave way without suitable replacements. Culturally it was a time of searching. (See also Yeats “The Second Coming”) And this was followed by the devastation of worldwide economic depression and World War II.

And it was not that long ago, about one hundred years.

In my lifetime I have experienced the imminent end of the world many times. When I was a child, “Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD)” was the strategic doctrine that said the US and the USSR would not start a war with nuclear missiles because they each had an arsenal that would end human life on earth. Unless someone made a mistake. Which could happen any day. My world would end as I hid under my desk at school.

Then there was The Population Bomb by Paul Ehrlich in 1968. The population was growing uncontrollably, and we all would soon die of starvation. There was acid rain and the coming Ice Age (we starve again), global warming (we all drown), the USSR collapsed (who has their finger on the nuclear missile button now?), Y2K (no infrastructure to keep us alive), 9/11 and the release of global terrorism. And we all remember COVID.

The doom cycle continues: one predicted cataclysm follows another. They are all unfulfilled prophecies. They have lost their potency. Except for one thing. The consistent message is: “Be afraid.”

There is a pattern of intended intense feelings: fear, panic, anger, division, and then hatred. This pattern reveals a strategy of manipulation: incite a fierce emotion and follow it with directions for approved attitudes and behavior. Start with a plausible but vague existential threat on the near horizon that never arrives. And then move to direct the behavior of believers and non-believers. If you are afraid because of what you read or watch, you are being manipulated. If you find yourself hating some group of people, you are being recruited. Know what you see.

People can convince themselves of almost anything. There is a line in the Magnificat, the Song of Mary, that says, “God has scattered the proud in the thoughts [imagination] of their hearts.” Fear is a powerful emotion. It can drive and be driven by imagination. It is normal to respond to fear by trying to protect yourself. Controlling the threat is a common defense, even if the threat is imaginary and even if you and everyone else must be controlled.

Fear begins a cycle of manipulation: The desire to control others leads to anger against those who will not agree or comply. This creates division and then hatred. Who benefits? Not you.

How do we recognize the difference between a real threat and an imaginary one?

We know that: “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom.” (Proverbs 9:10) But this is not like the fear that leads to manipulation. The fear of the LORD is about awe. In the presence of GOD, it is normal to feel an awe so profound that it resembles the fear of being in the same room as a HUNGRY TIGER. But they are not the same.

The fear of the LORD is the awe that inspired Isaiah to cry, “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips.” (Isaiah 6:5) It is the same awe that led Peter to say, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.” (Luke 5:8) Because we know the love of GOD, our confidence is that, “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.” (1 John 4:18)

The fear of the hungry tiger is the fear of death. It might also be fear of pain or the anxiety of facing the unknown or all of them together. That is when fear becomes a tool of manipulation. That is not the normal experience of our life in Christ. But our anthem at the grave is “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting? The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Corinthians 15:55–57)

Jesus said, “Do not fear.” And He said it at least a dozen times. When you hear voices calling for you to fear for your life – especially over things that might happen in some vague, undifferentiated future – those voices are not from GOD. Feel free to disregard them.

Do not be afraid.

Falling Off the Edge of the World

Yet the world can end in quieter ways as well. Beyond the cycle of predicted catastrophes lies another kind of ending: when a culture loses its center and begins to treat the edge as the new ideal. To see how this happens, imagine civilization as a mountain.

At the very top stands the garden of Eden. It is here that God created humanity in His image—male and female He created them—and commanded them to be fruitful and to multiply.

Here the family stands as the fundamental ideal for human flourishing, established at the very beginning of creation. Parents are raising children who in turn become parents raising children over again and again throughout history.

The family is the ideal pattern for life at the top of the world. It is not the only pattern that has existed, and it may not be the most common pattern in history, but it is the ideal, the one established by God in the beginning.

As you move down the mountain, away from the center, things begin to change. The farther you go, the more life deviates from the family ideal. Keep going far enough and you reach the edge—you cannot go beyond this place without falling. You can go too far and then no longer be accepted in your community or no longer be in a healthy relationship with the church family.

I do not intend to define those boundaries here, only to acknowledge that they exist. The danger is not that people will attempt to live at this fringe of the world, but that society itself will attempt to make this fringe into the ideal. When that happens, the society itself collapses. The world as you know it ends.

What is our role when many are working to pull the fringe into the center? That is, there are movements that take behavior once considered abnormal or rare and elevate it—not merely to acceptance, but to the status of an ideal. This is pulling the fringe into the center.

Jesus said, “Judge not, that you be not judged.” (Matthew 7:1) and “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matthew 22:39) These are clear instructions. People are not the enemy. As scripture reminds us: “We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” (Ephesians 6:12) This becomes visible when ideas harden into ideologies.

It is important to distinguish individual behavior from ideology. As Russian author Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn observed in The Gulag Archipelago:

To do evil, a human being must first of all believe that what he is doing is good. Ideology is what gives evildoing its long-sought justification and gives the evildoer the necessary steadfastness and determination.

Ideology is the difference between murder and a holocaust. Its familiar pattern is to dehumanize a group and then treat every member of that group with disdain. But people are not emblems of a category. They are individuals. Every human being is created in the image of God and remains worthy of dignity, no matter how far down the mountain they stand.

A society of widely divergent people can function well only if it holds clear ideals and boundaries. The ideal must remain the ideal—at the top of the mountain, at the center. Difference is not a crime; it simply lies farther down the slope. Yet some behavior goes too far. There must be limits, especially when harm is done to others. Being different is not a crime, but crime is still a crime. Behavior matters.

In the Christian Faith, we are especially called to protect the vulnerable. “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.” (James 1:27) Too often the command to “love your neighbor” is misused to shield the evildoer while leaving the weak exposed. As we move away from the ideal, the boundaries we set must still reflect what is right and good. The vulnerable need protection, not the violent. “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil” (Isaiah 5:20).

Proverbs warns us:

My son, if sinners entice you, do not consent. If they say, “Come with us, let us lie in wait for blood; let us ambush the innocent without reason; like Sheol let us swallow them alive, and whole, like those who go down to the pit.” (Proverbs 1:10–12)

Do not consent.

How, then, does a people flourish together in peace? They must keep the shared ideal at the center and agree on where the boundaries lie. Politics, at its best, is the art of discovering what can still be shared amid real differences.

Keeping the Center

When a culture begins to pull the fringe into the center, the question is no longer abstract. How does a people resist that drift and keep what is essential at the heart of its common life?

The United States of America recently celebrated the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. We heard these words many times:

We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness—That to secure these Rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just Powers from the Consent of the Governed.

Here is the top of the mountain in political form: governments exist to protect the rights God has given, and they derive their just powers from the consent of the governed.

In such a system, citizens—especially those who recognize the authority of God—have both the right and the responsibility to take part in setting and guarding the boundaries of their common life. The Apostle Paul writes, “If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men” (Romans 12:18, NKJV). Active, peaceable participation is how a free people resists the slow collapse that follows when ideals are abandoned.

How we speak, vote, and live should aim at two things held in tension: treating every person as made in the image of God, and refusing to call evil good. The vulnerable must be protected, not the violent. Boundaries must remain clear so that the center holds.

A society that will not defend its ideals eventually finds that it has no center left to preserve. Participation is one way we refuse that ending.

Protect the vulnerable.

How Your World Ends

Doomsayers sell fear through predictions of world-ending catastrophes that never arrive. Societies collapse when ideals and boundaries are severely distorted or abandoned. Yet even when a culture holds its center, another kind of ending still comes for each of us: a day when all our hopes and dreams and expectations are burned to the ground.

Those days are real. The pain is real. The scars are real. Time Stops.

When he opened the sixth seal, I looked, and behold, there was a great earthquake, and the sun became black as sackcloth, the full moon became like blood, and the stars of the sky fell to the earth as the fig tree sheds its winter fruit when shaken by a gale. The sky vanished like a scroll that is being rolled up, and every mountain and island was removed from its place. (Revelation 6:12–14)

Something irreplaceable has been lost, a loved one, a job, a relationship. And with it goes hope and joy. And sometimes the loss is so devastating that even the past itself seems altered—no longer meaning what we thought it did. What is real? What is important?

Jesus hung on the cross and cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46)

The Apostles hid. Had they been wrong about Jesus, or worse, had they been right and hope was gone forever. Two of Jesus’ disciples left Jerusalem for Emmaus. They described it this way, “We had hoped that He was the one to redeem Israel.” (Luke 24:21) That was the end of the world, but it was not the end of the story. Despair. Confusion. And then – surprise and joy.

“Great indeed, we confess, is the mystery of godliness: Jesus was manifested in the flesh, vindicated by the Spirit, seen by angels, proclaimed among the nations, believed on in the world, taken up in glory.” (1 Timothy 3:16)

At the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, after being tempted in the wilderness, He went to His hometown synagogue and read from Isaiah 61:1–2:

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

After reading this scripture, Jesus said, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” (Luke 4:21) These are the promises that God has given you. We know that the words of Jesus are true because He was raised from the dead. “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.” (Romans 6:3–4)

You will be comforted. Your broken heart will be bound up. You have been set free, released. This is good news. “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” (Colossians 1:27)

If the day comes when all your hopes and dreams burn to the ground – and in this broken and sinful world, that day will likely come for each of us – remember this: It is ok to grieve. You don’t have to pretend that everything is fine.

It may be dark, but the dawn is coming. And the sun at dawn is not like the sun at noon. Be patient. “The path of the righteous is like the light of dawn, which shines brighter and brighter until the full day.” (Proverbs 4:18)

“And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.” (1 Peter 5:10)

And if this seems unreal, there is a pattern that God has given us in creation to understand how the world ends and begins again.

And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. And God saw that the light was good. And God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day. (Genesis 1:3–5)

And so it has been ever since, even today. We have the sun, moon and stars to mark the days and season and years. (See Genesis 1:14–15) Every evening the day comes to an end, and we lay down to sleep. Every morning we wake up to a new day. Seasons turn. Years pass. Then one day we will pass through the veil into a new life, where eternity begins.

And on that day, the One who sits on the throne will say, “Behold, I make all things new.” (Revelation 21:5) He will wipe away every tear from our eyes. (Revelation 21:4) There will be no more death, no more sorrow, no more crying, no more pain. The former things will have passed away.

If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied. But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep. For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. (1 Corinthians 15:19–22)

When the world ends, life begins again.

The pain of death is not easy, whether it is our own or someone close to us. It is a separation. It is a yearning for something we cannot reach. It is a chasm we cannot cross. It creates a need in us for something beyond ourselves. God has promised to comfort those who mourn – and He does. But comfort is not a cure.

When you lose someone close to you, each day can feel like starting from scratch and working through reminders of what you have lost and learning to find joy in what remains. You don’t really get over it as much as you get through it. And then it becomes a part of you. There is a saying that crisis brings clarity. It helps to remind you of what is most valuable.

When you face the end of your own day, it is different. It is a journey into the ultimate unknown. It is a journey that everyone makes alone. In a deeper sense, however, it is a journey that is never made alone. Jesus has been there before you. He knows the way and will be with you. It is a moment of faith. “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1) Assurance and conviction. It does take courage. The life we live in the fellowship of the church aimed at growing mature in Christ helps us to grow strong enough to have that courage.

In the meanwhile: Don’t be afraid. Protect the vulnerable. And look for life at the end of the world.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. (Romans 15:13)

Cn. Lewis R. Powell is the Rector of Saint Michael’s Church and Canon Missioner to the Diocese of the West, ICCEC.

From February through July, I was in Madrid for the selection of our new Patriarch, in Paris for his installation, at 3SI: The River, and finally in San Clemente for the Patriarch’s Council. I have borrowed a phrase from Bishop Jason Epps to describe each of them, because I have not found better: “It’s the same as before, only more.” Every one of those gatherings was recognizably the life of the Church I already knew. Every one of them was more of it.

At each I was, for the most part, an observer and a supporter. The proper word is witness. And what I have witnessed across these five months is not four separate events but one continuous movement, each gathering preparing the ground for the next.

In Madrid, the Council that met was the one Archbishop Bates had assembled, and the unity among those men was remarkable. On the first ballot the consensus was complete: Archbishop Charles Jones would be the third Patriarch of the ICCEC. Men drawn from four continents, each with every reason to see the Communion from his own corner of it, arrived at a single name. That is not a procedural achievement. It is a statement that God is leading His Church.

What was discerned in Madrid was confirmed in Paris. The joy of the installation carried the unmistakable sense of a new thing God is doing to revitalize our movement and our unity. Those days included a healing conference led by Archbishop Jones, and — as God so often does — the healing and the commissioning came in the same moment. I have not stopped thinking of that as a picture of the whole Communion. We are being healed and we are being sent, and not in that order so much as at once.

3SI: The River carried the same unity and the same sending out for our young adults. God is raising up leaders out of this generation. While much of the mainline church worries about greying out, the CEC is watching the move of God among its young people with faith and expectation. Something else was planted that week besides. The Three Streams Collective — worship leaders gathered from around the country — played and recorded six original songs over the course of the conference, and those songs will be released on the band’s first EP in the coming months. The conference ended on Friday, July 10th; on Saturday, Fr. Phillip Johnson was ordained a priest; on Sunday, Archbishop Jones preached at St. Michael’s; and on Monday, July 13th, we launched into the Patriarch’s Council. The progression showed the direct connection with what God was doing through 3SI and continuing into the Patriarch’s Council.

The way had been prepared. The Patriarch’s Council meetings in San Clemente were full of unity and encouragement, and it grew more obvious across the three days that God was leading. The decisions came with an easy unity, the conversation was constructive, and matters that ordinarily tend toward tedium or controversy were handled with peace and clarity.

What the Patriarch’s Council Is

The Patriarch’s Council is the highest governing body of the ICCEC. The Patriarch selects his own Council, and together they govern by consensus. Consensus means that the men on the Council seek God’s will rather than their own agenda. Each shares what he believes God is saying. The Patriarch, as first among equals, then declares that consensus has been reached — or else they keep praying. Sometimes a matter is set aside altogether for lack of consensus. As Bishop Jones often says, “I don’t have time to be in a hurry.” It is more important to wait on the Lord and hear His word.

What the Council does for the Communion is illustrated most clearly in the consecration of the oils. The bishops together bless the Chrism — the oil of the anointing described in Psalm 133: “It is like the precious oil on the head, running down on the beard of Aaron, running down on the collar of his robes.” The anointing flows from the Patriarch and his Council to each bishop, from each bishop to the priests of his diocese, from each priest to every member of his parish. It is the oil that anoints every baptized member, every person confirmed in the Communion, and every bishop, priest, and deacon at ordination. It is a symbol of the right ordering of God’s Church, and we believe it is more than a symbol: it is an effective element in the Sacraments where it is bestowed.

Just as with the oil, all of us participate in the Spirit that flows out from the Council as God leads through these men. I take real encouragement in being able to trust that God is leading the ICCEC.

What the Council Did

Archbishop Jones has named Bishop Elmer Belmonte his General Secretary, an esteemed and necessary help to the Patriarch. Bishop Douglas Kessler was the first to hold that post, and his impact on the formation of the ICCEC was immense. During the sessions, and in consensus with the Council, the Patriarch named Canon Jim House his Nuncio. A Nuncio carries the authority to speak with the voice of the Patriarch; Canon Jim will serve as a diplomat on his behalf among his many connections both inside and outside the CEC. One further role was defined: I was appointed Global Director of Communications for the ICCEC, which continues and globalizes the work of Three Streams United. This article is a direct result of that charge.

The Council also clarified the process of consensus itself. Decisions made at the Patriarch’s Council will now be carried by representative bishops to their own territorial councils, which may offer feedback. The following Patriarch’s Council will weigh that feedback and, barring any changes needed, confirm the decision. Decisions from this meeting that require that process will therefore be announced as final only after the Council gathers again in March of 2027. It is a slower path, and a deliberate one. It keeps our church woven together in the consensus government we have been given.

The Word Over Us

The prophetic gifts were much in evidence, with a number of men sharing what God had spoken over the Council and over the Communion. Bishop Brett Crompton brought three images that have stayed with me since.

The first was harvest. He described what he had learned about agriculture in New York — that the season of harvest leads directly into the season of planting — and drew the conclusion out for us: “A wise farmer never consumes all of his seed. He intentionally sets some aside because he understands that today’s blessing must become tomorrow’s harvest.” What God has done through the CEC and through 3SI is a genuine harvest, he said, but a harvest celebrated without sowing is a harvest consumed. “Now is the time to plant — not tomorrow, or when it feels convenient. Now.”

The second was water. He saw the Sea of Galilee, alive because water flows through it, and then the image changed to reservoirs, and then to the Dead Sea. “The difference was not the quality of the water — it was the lack of movement.” Then, he said, the Lord spoke: “I have not called My Church to become reservoirs. I have called My Church to become the Jordan River.” We have become very good at gathering revelation, teaching, experience, and blessing, and at keeping them. But “the River receives life and immediately gives life. It never exists for itself.”

The third was wind. No one has ever seen it, and everyone recognizes its effects; we cannot manufacture it or control it, only raise a sail and catch it. He named the moments when the Church learned to do exactly that — Azusa Street, the Welsh Revival, the Jesus Movement, and, he believes, the early days of the CEC — and then made the point that every generation must learn it again. “The wind has not changed — only our ability to catch it.” The charge that followed was aimed squarely at those of us who are older in this movement than the ones now coming up behind us: “I believe the next generation is being raised up to teach us how to catch the wind in this season. We must not demand that they catch it the way we did.”

He closed with St. Michael’s, the birthplace of the CEC. “St. Michael’s is a thin place where heaven has touched earth before, and I believe the Lord is breathing on this place again. Not so we can relive yesterday, but so we can carry the fire into tomorrow.” The first 3SI, he said, was about being renewed in who we were called to be. Now God is inviting us beyond renewal and back into a movement.

In the end it was the fellowship, the unity, and the prophetic Spirit of the gathering that told the story of how God is moving — far more than any single decision did. I look forward to my new role, and to going on being a witness to the work God is doing in our Communion worldwide. I will keep sharing what I see, and I hope these articles leave you encouraged and connected to the revival we are living day by day.

The Patriarch’s Council

Archbishop Charles Jones, Patriarch

Bishop Elmer Belmonte, General Secretary

Bishop Gregory Ortiz, Auxiliary to the Patriarch

Canon James House, Patriarchal Nuncio

Archbishop Ariel Santos, Primate of Asia

Archbishop Joshua Koyo of Kenya

Bishop Francis Gogo of Uganda

Bishop Michael Davidson

Bishop Prakash Yuhanna

Bishop Raymundo Abogatal

Bishop Brett Crompton

Dcn. Jesse Harris is a deacon in the ICCEC and the Global Director of Communications for the Communion.

The Charismatic Episcopal Church is in a season of recovering who we always were. Believing in the active presence of the gifts, and seeing them practiced as normal Christianity, is foundational to our understanding of the Holy Spirit and the Christian life. This year’s Three Streams Ignited conference put that conviction on display for three days.

The theme was THE RIVER, drawn from Ezekiel 47 and John 7. The two Instructional Eucharists — Fr. Kenneth Tanner on Wednesday and Fr. Mark Finley on Thursday — continued to reveal the three-streams nature of our worship. And the call to bring the River to the nations underscored the outward thrust of our mission and vision.

Preaching the Gospel to Christians

Bishop Chuck Jones, our Patriarch, set the tone for the conference as he continued his life’s work: preaching the gospel to Christians. He came at it through Mary of Bethany, who broke an alabaster jar worth a year’s wages over the head of a man about to die because she had understood what the disciples had not — that Jesus was going to give his whole life away. If he is going to give his all to me, she reasoned, I am going to waste my all on him. Hence the line people were still repeating on Friday: a life wasted on Jesus is a life well wasted. He also warned against letting our work name us. “Your identity can’t be determined by your assignment.”

The “In Christ” life that we are invited into reveals the River as the life of Christ. This understanding makes the Christian walk simple: let Christ live his life through you. T. S. Eliot calls it “a condition of complete simplicity, costing not less than everything.” And Paul: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Galatians 2:20).

The Ocean We Swim In

I had the privilege of following Bishop Jones, and I used the time to name the cultural forces pulling at us. The ocean we swim in is constantly pulling us downstream of God’s purposes, and the primary direction is toward a worship of self. In our culture, the Westminster Shorter Catechism has been inverted: the chief end of man is to glorify and enjoyhimself forever. The antidote is blunt: “Let everything you do declare that you are not the glowing center of the universe.”

The invitation from Jesus is to drink from the only true source: the River that comes forth from the east side of the true temple, Jesus himself. Just as his heart was pierced and the river of living water flowed out for the salvation of the world, we are called to be pierced and to bring the salvation of God to the world.

It’s Time!

One of the highlights of this conference was the international presence. We had several young adults from Europe and three of our international bishops.

Archbishop Ariel Santos opened Thursday morning, and while his message was salted with humor, it was rich with prophetic encouragement. “It’s time!” he exclaimed. Time to move with God, time to embrace the kairos moment, time to walk into the purposes of God. If you wait for perfect conditions, he warned, you will never get anything done. He also left us the conference’s best image for endurance: “The river reaches the ocean not because it’s the strongest, but because it never stops. It flows around the rocks. It finds another way when the path is blocked.”

Vessels of Honor

Bishop Jason Epps shared a powerful vision of the junk we allow to accumulate in our hearts and Jesus’ ability to wash us clean. He saw a mudflat stretching to the horizon and the rim of a pot buried in it. Hands reached down — his own and Christ’s at once — and pulled it out. It appeared as a chamber pot, full of filth and waste, but with one dip in the River, everything washed away downstream and it came out beautiful. It was never created to be a chamber pot.

We are vessels of honor, made to contain the River of Jesus’ life and presence. When we allow him to flow through us, every trace of shame, lust, anger, envy, and fear is washed away, and who we are is revealed. Let him dip you in the River and fill you up from its depths.

Down Where People Live

Our breakout speakers went after the many burdens young adults actually carry. Bishop Rob Northwood taught on discerning a vocation to holy orders. Pastor Justin Haag made the case for the ministry of the laity and wanted the word “volunteer” out of our vocabulary altogether. Fr. Ed and Mia Harris taught on raising kids. Fr. Bret and Patti Heniser addressed anxiety and depression. Fr. Mark and Stacy Finley taught on marriage, refusing to call it difficult: “Marriage is something God created, and all that he created is good.” Emily Slagel spoke on maturity in Christ — “maturity isn’t a length of time, it’s a choice.” Katie Sampson spoke on women in ministry. Fr. Kenneth Tanner led a session on the humanity of Christ, arguing that the power that raises the dead “is found in surrender and weakness. It’s the only true power.” Other sessions took up reaching the world beyond our walls, worship ministry, and the end times.

Lila Rose led a special session on living the Pro-Life life. I had the opportunity to share stories from the formation of the CEC, and she was thrilled to learn that we were birthed out of the Pro-Life movement. We heard harrowing accounts of the evil of Planned Parenthood. My greatest shock was learning that, according to current data, the majority of women who have abortions in America identify as Christian. Our hope remains: “Everything will live where the River goes” (Ezekiel 47:9). We are called to bring that life to a culture bound by death.

Coffee, Tacos, and Fellowship

The coffee bars, the on-site lunches, and the closing refreshments were another way God brought delight and fellowship to the conference. Whether your favorite was a custom latte creation or the local taco cart, the gathering was made better by excellent food and drink.

Fire Night

I had the best seat in the house for Fire Night. As the facilitator, I was up front for the entire two and a half hours. The roar of worship and the felt presence were overwhelming. I was on a prayer team, and we prayed for people from the moment the invitation was given until the end of the night. There was faith and expectation in the room, and God broke through in our midst, bringing healing, comfort, and hope.

Fire Night also marked an important beginning. The band, now known as Three Streams Collective, brought six original worship songs to play throughout the conference. The songs were written by worship leaders in the group and workshopped with the rest of the band. During Fire Night, those songs were recorded so they could be professionally mixed and mastered. I am proud to announce that Ron E. Mudd — known for the Vox Domine album and as the voice behind the Saint Michael’s prayer song — is mixing and mastering Three Streams Collective’s first EP. I have heard the beginnings of the mix, and the live worship recorded that night is incredibly vibrant and energetic. Look for more information on this project in the coming months.

Planted, and Free

Kicking off day three, Fr. Jim House, one of the founding elders of the CEC, shared his testimony of being planted by the River. For fifty-two years he has remained faithful to the church community of Saint Michael’s, and the fruit of his faith is abundant. Through stories of God’s outrageous provision — and of a lawsuit that took every job he had, an eviction, nine children in a two-bedroom house, and a two-year-old daughter’s cancer — Fr. Jim encouraged us all to be planted where God places us and to trust his faithfulness over our own. “You can’t stay in a place for fifty years and not be tested.”

Bishop Elmer Belmonte followed by illustrating the great freedom that comes when you give up control and go all in. Secular freedom is the right to set your own direction, which collapses the moment you realize you don’t know the way. “Jesus is not created as a GPS that will show you the way. He is the way.” The gift of freedom comes as we let go of control and go where the River leads.

That became the through line this year: ditching distraction and jumping into the River. Bishop Jones summed it up. You may have gone ankle deep, but you were still in control. You may go knee deep, which is better, but you can still feel secure. Even at waist deep there is a hanging-on impulse. The invitation is to jump in and swim.

Jump In!

The Closing Eucharist continued the joyful expectation as Bishop Brett Crompton preached on the difference between an internally focused network of churches and the movement we are called to be. The Jordan feeds the Sea of Galilee, which teems with life, and then flows on into the Dead Sea, which has no outlet. “The difference between life and death isn’t the quality of the water we receive. It’s whether the water keeps moving. A reservoir is built to store water. A river is designed to distribute it. The Lord never called the church to become a network of reservoirs. He called us to be the river.”

He asked how many of us knew how to swim, then pressed the point. You can read the books and watch the videos, “but standing on the shore watching everyone in the water never teaches us how to swim. Eventually there comes a critical moment where the instruction stops and someone looks you in the eye and says, jump in.” Then he turned it on the previous three days: attending a conference, taking notes, going to breakout sessions, joining in the worship — all of it could amount to standing safely on the bank, admiring the beauty of the river without ever stepping into it. The only qualification he would accept was thirst. “The question tonight is not whether we’re gifted, talented, popular or dynamic. It’s one simple question: are you thirsty?”

Everyone who was thirsty was asked to stand. The room stood.

“Do not leave this place tonight carrying another notebook full of information. Leave here carrying the living river of God.”

The Invitation

The outward focus brought the conference to its launch point, and the invitation to jump in holds for every day that follows. Over and over, God has been encouraging our Communion to go from a moment to a movement, and that is the final encouragement from this year’s conference.

For those who came and those who will watch the videos from afar, for those who read this article or heard a testimony from a church member who attended: the invitation today is for you. God is moving in the CEC. Jump in the River and let it take you where God leads.

-Dcn. Jesse Harris is the Global Director of Communications for the ICCEC and a contributor to Three Streams United. Find the recordings of the 3SI Sessions on the Three Streams United Youtube Channel. Additional Photos at this link.

Subscribe now

On the Fifth Sunday of Easter, at the Church of Saint Paul the Apostle in Paris, Archbishop Charles William Jones was enthroned as the third Patriarch of the International Communion of the Charismatic Episcopal Church. The service was the concluding act of the Aslan Roars Healing Conference and continues the story that began three months ago in Madrid, when the Patriarch’s Council selected Bishop Jones unanimously and by consensus to the office.

It was the first patriarchal enthronement most of us in this Communion have ever seen. It will not be the last great moment of this new chapter, but it was a fantastic beginning.

Why Paris

Bishop Elmer referenced the decision for Paris during the service, Archbishop Jones had told him, “Because I want to make a proclamation to the whole Communion, that the Charismatic Episcopal Church is an international church.”

Paris was no accident. To enthrone a Patriarch in a church in France, with bishops from Pakistan and the Philippines blessing him in their own languages, and communicant members from around the world was to make a visible argument: that this Communion’s center of gravity is not held in any one nation, and that the office of Patriarch belongs to a global body.

Aloha to those who came from Hawaii, the Bishop Belmonte said at the start of the service. Bonjour to the French. Buongiorno to the Italians. Guten Morgen to the Germans. The list grew until Bishop Prakash Yuhanna had been added for Pakistan and Archbishop Ariel Santos for the Philippines. The greeting itself was the proclamation.

The Liturgy of Enthronement

Bishop Elmer Belmonte, General Secretary of the Patriarch’s Council, led the service. The rite of enthronement followed the historic pattern of the Church: a petition, a witness, the consent of the people, the prayers, the renewal of vows, the investiture, and the seating of the new shepherd in his chair.

Archbishop Jones came forward and spoke the words that opened the rite: “I, Charles William Jones, whom God has ordained to be a shepherd and servant, and who now has been chosen as Patriarch of the International Communion of the Charismatic Episcopal Church, come to you desiring to be recognized and invested and enthroned in the chair which is the symbol of that office.”

Bishop Belmonte then turned to the congregation and asked the question the Church has asked of its people for centuries: “Do you recognize and receive Charles William Jones as your Patriarch? Will you uphold him in this ministry?” The answer came back, simple and corporate: “We will.”

There followed a long litany of intercession — for the Church, for her bishops, priests, and deacons, for Charles our chosen Patriarch, for his family, for the unity of all Christians, for the mission of the Church, for the poor and the persecuted, for those in positions of public trust, for the peace of the world. It is the kind of prayer that situates a man inside a vocation that is older and larger than himself, and it was prayed with care.

When Bishop Belmonte placed the pastoral staff in the new Patriarch’s hands, he did so with the words the Church has used for generations: “On behalf of the people and the clergy of this Communion, I give into your hands this pastoral staff. May Christ the Good Shepherd uphold you and sustain you as you carry it in his name.”

Archbishop Jones received it with a vow of his own: that he would, by the grace of God, fulfill the responsibilities of this office, “striving according to his power which mightily works within me to be a faithful shepherd to the flock of Christ.”

Then he was seated. The Communion has a Patriarch.

Three Witnesses

Before the Eucharist, three bishops were given space to speak. Each carried a different angle on the same moment.

Archbishop Ariel Santos went first. He had been in Madrid in February for the conclave, and for him the contrast with the rest of his ecclesial experience was worth noting. “It was the most peaceful, stress-free, bloodless church meeting I have ever been to that required consensus,” he said, to much laughter in the room. “There were no threats, no politics. Nobody brought any guns with them, or clubs. It was just consensus government at its best.” Then he turned the matter pastoral: “Archbishop Chuck is not Jesus. He is not God. But I can tell you he is a good shepherd, because he is a man after God’s own heart. Pray for him. Support him. Imitate him as he imitates Christ.”

Bishop Prakash Yuhanna spoke next, and he spoke the way he always speaks — with the gentleness of a man who has carried real weight in a hard country and still believes peace is the better word. He sang a small fragment of a song, that touched the heart of everyone who knows his story: “Shalom, shalom, oh my friend.” He thanked the room. He reminded everyone that the CEC is not only for America, the Philippines or Europe but for all of Asia as well, and that even amid the challenges of Pakistan he and his people came to extend their love to the new Patriarch. “We support him,” he said, “and we all will pray for him.”

Bishop Belmonte’s remarks framed the moment in the long arc of the Communion’s life. He began with Archbishop Randolph Adler, the first Patriarch, and the famous Charisma article that put San Clemente on the map and made the phones ring. He recalled the founder’s words: “If we have one hundred churches in ten years, I’ll be very happy.” He recalled the turbulence of the early years — “these three streams coming together produced a whirlpool” — and the cost of canoeing the mountains of uncharted ecclesial territory. He recalled the election of Archbishop Craig Bates in 2007 and the long, often unseen work of stabilizing the Communion through difficult years. “I would characterize his tenure,” Bishop Belmonte said, “as one that brought stability to the Communion.”

And then he turned to the present. “Now we are ready, and God is ready to do something new in our Communion. It is a new chapter; a new page is turned. The Holy Spirit is ready to write new things, and we are the ink and the pen, as it were.”

The text he kept returning to was Esther 4:14 — the verse the Lord had given him, he said, all through the conclave process: “for such a time as this.” “It is not our doing,” he said. “It is God’s doing. And we are all part of it. We are all part of it.”

He closed with a story that exemplifies the trust in God that lies at the heart of our Communion. Years ago, in Selma, when the first Patriarch, Abp. Adler, was blessing his successor, Abp. Bates, he said as he blessed Abp. Bates, “Remember, this is not my church, and this is not your church. This is Jesus’s church.”

It is the kind of word a Communion needs to hear at every transition.

The Patriarch’s Vision

After communion, before the final blessing, Archbishop Jones rose to give a vision for what is ahead:

“I believe that God is saying to all of us in the CEC around the world,” he said, “that God created the CEC to be a church in revival, not just one that is for revival. And that revival is normal, and we see its pattern in the book of Acts. I believe that we will see every church in every continent, and every person in every parish, moving in revival.”

That sentence is worth sitting with. There is a difference between a church that prays for revival and a church that understands itself to live inside one. The Patriarch’s claim was the latter — that the CEC’s vocation is not to import revival from somewhere else but to recognize that the Spirit who founded this Communion has not stopped moving, and that the work of his leadership is, as he put it, to fan that flame.

In characteristic humility and that slow southern rumble, he said: “My hope is I just won’t bugger it up. So pray that I won’t bugger it up.”

Earlier in the service he had made a promise to the Communion that ought to be remembered. “My promise to you is this: that in the Holy Spirit, I will love him with all my heart. And by the Holy Spirit, I will love each person in the CEC — in Africa, in Asia, in Europe, and America — with all of his heart.”

The Eucharist

The new Patriarch then celebrated the Eucharist. The readings of the day did much of the preaching themselves: Isaiah 6, with its vision of the Lord high and lifted up and the question that rings down through every vocation — “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” Psalm 132, with the Lord’s promise to David and the choosing of Zion. 1 Peter 5, with its charge to elders to shepherd the flock of God willingly, eagerly, not as lords over those entrusted to them but as examples to the flock. And John 15: “I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in me, and I in him, bears much fruit.”

It is hard to imagine a more fitting set of texts for the day. A man called by God to a ministry he did not seek. A people gathered around a chair that does not belong to them but to the Shepherd whose place it represents. A vine, and branches, and the quiet insistence that without him we can do nothing.

Pray for our new Patriarch. Pray for his family. Pray for the bishops who will gather around him as the new Patriarch’s Council comes together in the months ahead. Pray for the parishes of the Communion in Africa and Asia, in Europe and the Americas, and for every person whom this office now serves.

And give thanks. The best days of this Communion really are ahead of us.

Non nobis Domine — “Not to us, O Lord; not to us, but to your Name be the glory.”

-Dcn. Jesse Harris is a deacon in the ICCEC and a contributor to Three Streams United. Watch the full enthronement service on the Three Streams United YouTube channel, and follow continuing coverage on Substack and Instagram.

Subscribe now

I have neglected the Saints of the Week for the past several weeks. I apologize for that. Ministry and life can be hectic, especially as we enter the great wilderness that is Lent. I could not, however, miss an opportunity to write about one of my very favorite saints: Saint Joseph.

One of the goals of the Saints of the Week articles is to present individuals who are part of that “great cloud of witnesses” from at Three Streams perspective so that we can see how the men and women of the Church Triumphant manifested the Evangelical, Charismatic, and Sacramental streams of the Church in their lives. Saint Joseph manifests all three of these in such incredible ways.

At the heart of the Evangelical Streams is sharing the Gospel, the Evangelia in Greek. Saint Joseph made sharing the Good News possible for all of us, because he protected the Word of God when that Word had become flesh and dwelt among as an innocent and defenseless newborn. Of course, He was not ever truly defenseless because God had entrusted His only Son to the watchful care of St. Joseph. It was Saint Joseph who shepherded the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Pre-Born Lord from Nazareth to His birthplace in Bethlehem and then escorted them out of Bethlehem in the middle of the night to avoid the slaughter of the Holy Innocents and the command of the tyrannical King Herod. It was Saint Joseph who led the Holy Family out of Egypt and back to Nazareth and who raised Our Lord until He stepped into manhood and began His public ministry. I have a pet theory (without any real substantiation, mind you) that the reason Saint Joseph is absent beyond the first few chapters of Mathew and Luke’s Gospel was a mercy that God granted to Saint Joseph. The man who spent so much of his life guarding and protecting Our Lord could have never endured the agony of the Passion of the Christ without trying to save his Son.

At the heart of the Charismatic Stream is an openness to the moving of the Holy Spirit and expectation that God does miracles. Saint Joseph witnessed this in ways most of us could never even imagine. He was, quite possibly, the second person ever to believe in the Virgin Birth of Our Savior. On four separate occasions, God spoke to him in dreams and visions, and each time Saint Joseph arose and immediately did exactly what the Holy Spirit called him to do. Beyond showing incredible discernment and receiving life-changing prophetic dreams, Saint Joseph demonstrated in his life truly miraculous gifts of faith, hope, and love, virtues that Paul calls the greatest of the gifts of the Spirit.

In the Scriptures, we see Saint Joseph faithfully living out the liturgical life of a first-century Hebrew. He circumcised his Son on the eighth day, presented Him in the Temple after forty days, and regularly made pilgrimages to the Temple to observe the Pilgrim Feasts. None of these, however, go to the true heart of the Sacramental Stream of the Church. At the heart of the Sacramental Stream is an acknowledgement that God created the Heavens and the Earth, saw that they were good, and uses the materials He created as “outward and visible signs of inward invisible Grace” in order to impart that Grace to His beloved. Jesus Christ is forever THE Sacrament! He is the visible sign given to us to show us how much God loves us and wants us to be reconciled to Him. Beyond that, Jesus Christ Himself doesn’t just symbolize God’s love to us; He imparts God’s love to us. The Sacrament that is Christ the Lord, the mystery from before all time and for all time, was held, for the very first time, not by a prophet, priest, or king, but by a simple craftsman.

A carpenter, believing the promises of God would be fulfilled and empowered by the Holy Spirit, held in his calloused hands for the first time in all of Creation, the Word Made Flesh. The Three Streams of the Church flowed as one might river through Saint Joseph, because he, his Virgin Bride, and his Son, were the very first church, the Ecclesia Domestica, where the Holy Scriptures were studied, faithfulness and worship were lived out, and the Lord was worshipped and adored.

On December 8th, 2020, the late Pope Francis wrote an encyclical letter called Patris Corde (“With a Father’s Heart”). In that letter, he included a prayer inviting St. Joseph to pray for us. I encountered it for the first time earlier this year and it has become one of the prayers I say on a daily basis. As a father to a congregation, as a father to my children and grandchildren, and as a father to a child who was not born of my blood, my heart’s cry is “Saint Joseph, pray for me.” I close with Pope Francis’ words.

Hail, Guardian of the Redeemer,
Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
To you God entrusted his only Son;
in you Mary placed her trust;
with you Christ became man.
Blessed Joseph, to us too,
show yourself a father
and guide us in the path of life.
Obtain for us grace, mercy and courage,
and defend us from every evil. Amen.

I’d arrived in Pottersville on a Monday, having driven my dual-cab GMC S-15 pickup through the night. The truck’s bed and backseat were packed with the essentials. The tapedeck blasting a mix of movie scores and audio books to keep me awake as I made my way from Michigan through Canada and finally entering Upstate New York through Niagara Falls. The first person I met was a lanky stringbean named David Brooten. It would take less than a week to experience a moment that would bond us for life, sticking with me long after we’d gone our separate ways.

David was from Pennsylvania but his family camped in the Adirondacks while growing up. As Monday turned to Tuesday and so forth, a friendship emerged. We decided to share a bunk. He joined me for my daily run. We’d sit together in lectures, play chess at lunch.

Subscribe now

By Saturday, I was more than willing to let Dave play navigator as I drove in search of a suitable trail to break in my new hiking boots. Truth was I’d never really been a hiker or outdoorsman. Our house was for sports fans and most spare moments were spent outside alone with a baseball, football, or hockey stick pretending I was playing before a large crowd. My days of walking silent in the woods didn’t really start until David and I parked in a small lot that led to a flight of stairs that led to a craggy trail.

Among the first things I noticed were the small metal trailmarkers fastened to trees. These blue labels served as a necessary guide through a landscape where any rogue path could be mistaken as the main trail. When my buddy suggested it was common for visitors to pluck a marker off a tree as a souvenir, I challenged him: “How will people find their way?” Dave didn’t have a good answer other than insisting such a minor theft was common and acceptable.

I still have the trailmarker somewhere amid the many objects occupying the front room of our farmhouse.

As the afternoon lingered our feet wandered off the well-marked trail toward an area where a logging operation was underway. It was abandoned for the weekend, so we were free to look around. We sat for a while, opening our packs to fish out a few snacks and water bottles. I enjoyed sharing the solitude not only with Dave but with the countless hikers who had passed through this playground for the soul in days gone by.

A lot of time passed since we’d been on the marked trail. And, apparently, a lot of distance as well. The sun was going down and my companion and I – sheltered by a canopy of trees and beneath a hulking rock of a mountain that stretched a few thousand feet into the sky - were lost. Light was fading, and it was impossible to figure out which was which. This was when I realized why there was a book and a couple pens in a little cabinet stand located at the foot of the trail. It’s also when I realized it was a pretty boneheaded move to log my name in it.

I took over the role of navigator. I suffer from upside down panic syndrome – never one to panic when I should; always one to panic when panic isn’t really warranted. I’d say it’s a minor quirk but my wife and kids might disagree.

In this case, upside down panic syndrome was necessary. Who knows what danger lurked in the darkening shadows? It was getting increasingly cold yet we were wearing shorts and t-shirts. We were hungry. As we began walking toward where the trail might be I began praying under my breath. “Please God, just this once. Get me out of this jam.” If my memory serves me well; this went on for about a half hour.

Out of nowhere, I said “stop.” I held my right hand up like a crossing guard would. “Just stop. And listen.” So, that’s what we did. The air was completely still. Thankfully, there was no wind, no nearby river or waterfall to complicate our senses. After a while, I heard an eversobrief “shwooosh.” We stood still. Then another “swooosh.” What I detected was the faint faint sound of cars driving far below.

Dave and I walked in the direction of the sound. As we did, each “swooosh” swooshed a bit louder than the last “swooosh.” Eventually, one of those blessed trail markers was staring back at me. We’d found the trail. We headed back to the car.

This lost-in-the-woods vignette has never been more relevant than it is in 2026. I find myself constantly wandering off the intended trail, captivated by the many stresses of life or mesmerized by a digital device and all the wonders it presents. When that doesn’t have my attention I find myself squarely focused on the many cares of this world. No wonder I feel so unequipped for what lies ahead; so hungry; aimless. Sometimes it feels like I haven’t spotted a trailmarker in weeks.

Wandering gets its fair share of hype. Just today, I walked out of a coffee shop where the words “not all who wander are lost” were written near the door. Indeed, leaving behind the beaten path is seen as a virtue. We are quick to celebrate trailblazers and shun the conformists. What’s better than the tale of an explorer charting his own path?

In spiritual life, however, we need a path. And, we need to understand that while the path we are on has been traversed by tens of billions of humans who have preceded us, we are walking a version of the path that is entirely unique to us.

The enemy of staying on course is distraction. Increasingly, that comes in the form of digital devices. They are nearly as deceptive and potent as Jesus’ tempter in the wilderness.

Today, the vast majority of humanity carries a super computer everywhere they go. Answers to any question can be obtained in seconds; social media offers a glimpse into the farthest reaches of our world; needs and wants magically show up on our doorstep after a single click.

In the end, this is noise that can compete with the voice of God – a voice that beckons us back to the trail that leads us to our destination. But it is not the only noise. Distraction is everywhere we look. As we proceed through Lent, I encourage you to take fresh inventory of the distractions that accompany every step that we take. While it is impossible to eliminate them, this season is an opportunity to put them in their proper place.

Subscribe now

Prior to full-time ministry, I spent over 20 years in law enforcement. I retired in 2015 at the rank of Detective Lieutenant, which was the designation for the commander of the Criminal Investigations Division. For many of the officers I worked with, being a cop was something they had been working toward for most of their lives. I was not one of those people. Truthfully, at that time in my life, I identified more with Butch Cassidy than with Wyatt Earp. However, my new wife was also newly pregnant, and I needed a job. My father, who was a police chaplain for several agencies, suggested that I consider law enforcement. I was not enthused. In fact, my response was immediate and negative. But my options were limited.

Therefore, I only applied at one agency — my hometown agency, the Peachtree City (GA) Police Department. To my surprise, I was one of two applicants hired from over ninety applications. I was hired in April of 1995, and I assumed this was temporary until I found out what I really wanted to do with my life. My second surprise was that I was really good at it. I had a few innate skills that most around me had to work at. The first one made itself known quickly. Even though I had never had any instruction and had only fired a pistol once in my life, I earned Top Gun in the police academy. I found I didn’t have to work at many of the skills required to be good, and I got too complacent.

During my second year as a police officer, I got injured and was out on medical leave for six weeks. During those six weeks at home recovering, I got out of shape. Boredom, with nothing to do and nowhere to go, resulted in a 40-pound weight gain. When I was medically cleared to return to duty, I was not the same man who had gone on medical leave.

Not long after returning, on a Sunday morning, I was in my patrol vehicle traveling behind a brown sedan when the driver threw something out of the window. My experience had taught me that if someone has a cop behind them, there are only two reasons to litter:

1. They don’t realize there’s a cop behind them.

2. They’re getting rid of illegal items or contraband.

In either case, it was a littering violation and a reason for a traffic stop to investigate further. I activated my lights and siren and initiated the stop. As soon as the vehicle pulled into a parking lot, the driver stepped out, looked around, looked at me, then took off running. Immediately I began to chase him on foot and notified dispatch and other officers that I was in a foot pursuit. As I heard other officers acknowledge my transmission and begin to move toward me, I chased the driver into the open field of a city park near the parking lot where he had pulled over.

Then the suspect did something that set off alarm bells: as he ran, he began looking around and back at me while reaching into the chest area of his coat with his right hand. I suspected he might have a firearm and was scanning for witnesses or cover — a place of concealment and protection, like behind a tree — so that he could engage in a gunfight with me. I looked around too. There were neither witnesses nor cover for either of us. I continued to pursue him but held back some distance in case it did escalate into a gunfight.

After running roughly half a mile, a second patrol car appeared from a cross-street at the other end of the field and pulled onto the road directly in front of us, blocking the suspect’s escape. It was a two-man unit — a Field Training Officer and a rookie still in the Field Training Program. They both piled out of their patrol car, and seeing no way to escape, the driver surrendered. The suspect was ordered to the ground and handcuffed. A search of his person revealed a loaded pistol and several individually-packaged rocks of crack cocaine. My instincts had been completely right.

However, I was so out of shape and out of breath that I was rendered almost useless physically. If it had escalated into a gunfight, I would have been severely hampered. All of the skill anyone possesses with a firearm disappears when you’re out of shape. Your sight picture is unsteady. Your hands shake. Deadly.

The other two officers effected the arrest and put the suspect in their patrol car. The senior of the two looked me up and down, noted my terrible physical condition with a look of pity — and disgust, I imagined — and, without a trace of sarcasm, asked if I needed a ride back to my car. I was panting like I needed one, but I declined and started walking back to my patrol vehicle while he and his rookie transported the offender to the department for booking.

Whether or not I imagined that look of disgust, I was overwhelmed with disgust at myself. I was disgusted for letting my condition slide so badly, disgusted at being so out of shape — but most of all, disgusted at myself as a husband and father, because by this time in my life I had two small children, both under the age of two. I berated myself on that walk back to the car. The thoughts of what could have happened sat in my gut like a knife, and I twisted it. I know now that it wasn’t a very Godly response, but it was what it was. I had let myself down by not taking my responsibilities seriously, and because of it, I had let them down. The truth was that, in spite of my natural gifts for the job, I had relied too heavily on my strengths without addressing my weaknesses. I felt a deep sense of shame. Shame brought repentance.

The situation could have gone horribly wrong. The gunfight could have happened. If it had, would I have survived? I was not sure. I thought of my babies at home and how I had almost become nothing more than a memory to them — pictures without presence, knowledge without connection. I weighed myself and found myself horribly, terribly wanting.

On that walk back to my patrol car, I swore to myself that I would not let that happen again. For the rest of my career, I kept myself in good physical shape. The 40 pounds that took six weeks to put on took six months to take off — but I never put them back on again.

I believe that our Father in Heaven is always teaching us, if we are listening. He was teaching me something profound in this early stage of my adulthood: Complacency is death.

The same is true in our spiritual walk. More so. We have an enemy that seeks to kill, steal, and destroy. This would not be the only profound lesson I would learn in my career, but it was the first, and it was impactful.

It is, of course, possible to be an overweight, out-of-shape police officer. We’ve all seen them. But you cannot be effective in that condition. As an officer, if you don’t look for, chase, or arrest offenders, you’ll be safer — but you won’t be effective or reliable. You will make no impact. This is the deception, because you cannot avoid all danger. Evil never gets complacent. You will inevitably get sent to a dangerous call unchanged, unfit, unready, and a liability — a danger not only to yourself, but to others. To be effective and earn the trust of those beside you, you have to be ready at all times.

This is exactly the same in our Walk of Faith.

“I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom: Preach the Word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching. For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths. But as for you, always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry.

For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing.”

— 2 Timothy 4:1–8

Bp. Jason Epps is the rector of the Cathedral of Christ the King - Sharpsburg, GA and the Bishop Ordinary of the Dioceses of the Mid-South in the Charismatic Episcopal Church

I was falling asleep after a long day of traveling and chores on Sunday, February 8th, when I received a call from my brother-in-law informing me that something unthinkable had taken place. My brother, nine years my senior and 2,000 miles away, was dead. The news left me in shock, sending my mind racing until finally drifting asleep in the wee hours. Now, after spending several days processing Ken’s life and his passing from this world to the next, I enter a season of Lent with a readiness I have not previously known.

Whenever I contemplate the end of life my mind wanders to the cross, leading me to cling to a hope in resurrection that has always lessened death’s sting. Now, as death hits closer to home than ever before, I am grasping for such a hope and, as importantly, seeing the need to do an inventory of my soul – a soul so prone to wander, so prone to doubt, so prone to self-reliance. This is what Lent offers us. A time to take inventory, a time to remove spiritual clutter.

Staged over the 46 days leading to Resurrection Sunday, Lent serves as a pathway directly to the foot of the cross. This path begins on Ash Wednesday as we are marked with ashes (which are often the remnants from burning the prior Palm Sunday’s branches, moistened by holy oil). It continues as a 40-day fast interrupted only on Sundays. We are ushered into this prolonged fast with the words “remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

These dust-to-dust words are borrowed from Genesis 3, spoken by God to Adam as a reminder of man’s position in the cosmos and the inevitability of human death. In the words of our evening prayers, “God giveth and he taketh away, blessed be his name.”

This reminder of God’s sovereignty and providence is not intended to shame or demean, but instead mold us into a posture of humility intended at creation. We are to transform from people reliant on human strength, will, and intellect for provision and meaning – to people singularly dependent on the creator.

Why fast for 40 days? The opening words of Matthew 4, as translated in The Message, tell us. “Jesus was taken into the wild by the Spirit for the Test. The Devil was ready to give it. Jesus prepared for the Test by fasting forty days and forty nights.” Preparation takes time.

This fast, however, confounds everything we know about preparing for a fight. As a marathoner, the last thing I would do before a 26.2-mile race is deprive myself. Instead, I’d engage in a quite gluttonous round of “loading” calories and carbohydrates so that my body had sustenance stored as the race trudged on mile after grueling mile.

While Jesus wasn’t eating, he was hardly starving himself. He instead was making room for the only fuel sufficient for such warfare. Pope Benedict advised us to follow suit. “Lent,” he said, “is like a long ‘retreat’ during which we can turn back into ourselves and listen to the voice of God in order to defeat the temptations of the Evil One.” His successor, Pope Francis, said “Lent comes to reawaken us, to shake us from our lethargy.”

These days, many have positioned Lent as a way to kill two birds with one stone. Why not utilize these 40 days to lose weight or wean ourselves from an unhealthy dependency or addiction? Because the Lenten fast is not conducted for superficial reasons. While it is healthy to deny ourselves screen time, sweets, cigarettes, fattening foods, coffee, and the like, this fast is not a means to a physical or emotional end.

The destination is purely spiritual, the means by which we put to death our reliance on false securities and reassign that confidence to the Good Shepherd. Unlike a diet or 12-step program, the point is not perfecting this fast (in fact, seeking perfection can defeat the purpose). The point is to pursue a deepening of our life in Christ. N.T. Wright characterized the period as a “a time for discipline, for confession, for honesty…because he wants us to know the joy of being cleaned out.”

As a teenager, I fell in love with this idea of cleaning out the cluttered life. The first Moleskine notebook I ever bought came with a card on which was printed Sylvia Plath’s wonderful encouragement to utilize writing as a way to “consolidate our outstretched lives.” The fast is very much intended to do this work. To pull us back to the center, strengthen the core.

During that period of my life, I also stumbled upon “Walden,” Henry David Throreu’s account of a mystic journey into transcendentalism. Thoreau will never be considered a purely Christian writer whose intention was to point us to the cross. But that hardly disqualifies God from using his writing to achieve his purposes in my life. Let his words, written below, guide us as we wade into the spiritual wilderness :

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear…

–Deacon John Stoll serves at Church of the Holy Redeemer in Rochester Hills, Michigan. He and his wife, Kimberly, have seven children. John is a writer and public affairs adviser.

Archbishop Charles William Jones has been selected to serve as the third Patriarch of the International Communion of the Charismatic Episcopal Church. To view the announcement made this morning at the Cathedral Church of St. John in Madrid, please visit the Three Streams United YouTube Channel.

The Conclave

On Friday, February 13th, the Patriarch’s Council met for the second day of the conclave. They began the morning with the Liturgy for the Preborn and with remarks by Bishop Elmer Belmonte, quoted in full in our previous article. From there, the meeting moved into executive session, and the Council entered into a season of prayer—waiting on God to prompt them to submit their decisions.

At approximately 12:00 p.m. CET, the members of the Patriarch’s Council each submitted one name on a blind ballot. When the ballots were opened, a burst of applause rang out from the room. Every ballot contained the same name. God had moved mightily to unify these men—drawn from across the world—in a decision reflecting the consensus brought about by the Holy Spirit.

To be clear: these ballots were not votes. They were a declaration by each member of the Council of who he believed God had chosen to become the Patriarch. The distinction matters. This was not an election decided by majority. It was a moment of corporate discernment, and the Spirit’s answer was immediate and unanimous.

The joy in the room was palpable as each member shared words of encouragement with Archbishop Jones and marveled together at God’s good governance. Archbishop Jones reflected tearfully upon the immense grace of God—that He would select him for a position of great honor and greater responsibility.

The Installation

The Council determined that the installation service will take place on May 3rd at the Church of St. Paul the Apostle in Paris, France. Archbishop Jones was already scheduled to lead an Aslan Roars conference May 1–3 at St. Paul’s. Now, the installation will serve as the concluding service of the conference—a fitting culmination for a gathering already centered on the advancing mission of the Church.

A Patriarch in Revival

I had the opportunity to interview the Patriarch on Saturday, February 14th. His message is clear: the International Communion of the Charismatic Episcopal Church is in revival. God is moving, and we are on mission with Him.

In his own words during the Patriarch’s Council meeting: “This is the most exciting time to become the Patriarch of the ICCEC. Thanks to the leadership of our first two Patriarchs, we are in the best place in the history of our movement.”

Forming the New Council

Following the instructions of the Canons, Archbishop Jones will form his own Patriarch’s Council over the coming months. He began immediately by appointing Bishop Elmer Belmonte as General Secretary of the ICCEC and the first member of the new Council. Archbishop Jones cites the relationship between Archbishop Randolph Adler, the Communion’s founding Patriarch, and Bishop Douglas Kessler, the Communion’s first General Secretary, as the model he hopes to emulate—a partnership rooted in trust, shared vision, and mutual submission.

The remaining members of the Council will be selected and hold their first meeting during the May 1–3 conference in Paris.

A Joyful Sending

The concluding days of this gathering in Madrid have been full of fellowship and encouragement. This morning’s Eucharist was joyous and anointed. The praise band and choir at St. John’s led exuberant worship, and Canon Jim House offered a word of encouragement centered on the love and provision of God.

The most impactful moment of the service came when the Patriarch’s Council gathered around Archbishop Jones to bless him. Archbishop Ariel and Bishop Prakash chose to pray for him in their own languages—a moment that further underscored the global character of this Communion. Bishop Elmer reminded the congregation that the Patriarch bears the shepherd’s responsibility for some 250,000 members worldwide, a remark that deepened everyone’s sense of the great weight and sacred trust of the office.

I was reminded of my interview with Archbishop Jones the day before, in which he spoke of how humbled he felt by the selection and insisted that all his confidence rests in Jesus’ ability to bear the mantle. And so, amidst tears of humility and awe, Archbishop Jones closed the service with a single request: pray for me.

With this, we conclude our coverage of the selection of the new Patriarch. We encourage you to read our full articles on this Substack, watch our interviews with the bishops on YouTube and wherever you get your podcast, and follow further posts and highlights on Instagram.

Pray for our new Patriarch. Pray for all that God has in store for the ICCEC. The best days of this Communion are ahead of us.

Dcn. Jesse Harris is a deacon in the ICCEC and a contributor to Three Streams United.

Subscribe now

Bp. Elmer Belmonte has been tasked with leading the selection process and opened the session this morning to frame the selection and orient the group around the role and reality of the Patriarch:

I did not realize until yesterday how deeply I had missed the gathering of the Patriarchs’ Council—and the fellowship that accompanies it. We labor diligently in our respective regions. We shoulder responsibilities, confront challenges, and press forward with the work before us. Yet without fellowship, we risk drifting into isolation, each of us operating within our own sphere, our own bubble.

Yesterday, the Lord reminded me of something essential.

The ICCEC is a move of God—though not the only move of God. We are part of something the Holy Spirit has raised up in His time and for His purposes. We were reminded of our humble beginnings, of how the Lord gathered us together not through ambition or strategy, but through hunger—for fullness, for convergence, for the wholeness of the Church.

We heard the word uncompromising. That word resonates deeply. To be ICCEC is to hold firmly to the balance of the Three Streams—evangelical, sacramental, and charismatic—flowing together into one river. This balance is not accidental. It is not ornamental. It is essential to our identity.

We were reminded of the inseparability of form and the move of the Spirit. The two cannot be divorced. It is like water and wet—one cannot exist without the other. Structure without the Spirit becomes lifeless ritual. Spirit without form descends into chaos. Scripture tells us that the earth was formless and void; the Holy Spirit does not move where there is chaos. Form creates the vessel in which the Spirit moves.

What was spoken yesterday was not merely procedural. It was about the ethos of our communion.

Anyone who belongs to the ICCEC believes in the Three Streams flowing into one river; otherwise, one is not ICCEC. This convergence is not a slogan. It is a theological conviction and a lived reality.

We encounter Christ in the Eucharist. It is His assurance of His presence in the Church until the end of the age. We speak to God in prayer, and God speaks to us through His Word. The Word of God is His revelation of Himself to humanity in the person of Jesus Christ.

I agree wholeheartedly with what Archbishop Chuck said yesterday: to be charismatic is not merely to sing three fast songs and three slow songs. To be charismatic is to desire and expect the gifts of the Holy Spirit to operate in worship and in the life of the Church—individually and collectively. It is expectancy. It is hunger. It is faith.

Allow me now to bring this closer to home.

The burden of this Council, as stipulated in our canons, is to elect the Patriarch. It was in Normandy in 1995 that a bishop first suggested the title “Patriarch.” The word itself carries weight and meaning.

The Patriarch is to be a father of fathers.

A pastor to pastors.

A shepherd to shepherds.

He is chosen to shepherd the people of our communion—the flock of God—through their earthly pilgrimage, through the changes and chances of this life. He must lead them to green pastures and beside quiet waters.

From a military perspective, he is like a general—one who prepares the troops for battle, who advances into new territories at God’s command, and who ensures that those in the trenches are cared for and supplied.

Archbishop Adler was prophetic. Archbishop Bates brought structure and stability. The Church is built up through many gifts—pastors, teachers, evangelists, apostles, and prophets alike. No one man possesses all the gifts. The Patriarch will not embody every grace in equal measure.

Therefore, let us pray that God will lead this Council to choose the man who will stand on the shoulders of the giants who have gone before us—not to undo what has been done, nor necessarily to outdo it, but to build upon it faithfully.

From a collegial standpoint, we seek a man to whom we can turn for help as we finish our race—and one who will depend upon us to finish his. This is not about perfection. We are not electing a flawless man.

We are asking God to choose, for such a time as this, an imperfect man to accomplish His perfect work.
- Bp. Elmer Belmonte

Dcn. Jesse Harris is a deacon in the ICCEC and a contributor to Three Streams United. Follow coverage of the Madrid conclave at our Youtube and Instagram

This week marks the beginning of a new chapter in the life of our Church. In Madrid, at the future cathedral, bishops and members of the Patriarch’s Council will gather to select the next Patriarch of the International Communion of the Charismatic Episcopal Church. They will hear the voice of the Holy Spirit in their discernment, and God will move mightily through this transition.

The conclave opens Thursday, February 12, continues Friday, and may extend into Saturday if needed. Each day begins by gathering for prayer before the Council enters deliberation. This is not an election in any way most of us would recognize the word. There are no campaigns, no ballots, no platforms. There is prayer, and there is the confidence that the Holy Spirit still speaks to His Church when His people listen together.

Why the Church Has a Patriarch

The ICCEC confesses without reservation that the spiritual head of the Church is Jesus Christ. The Patriarch is not a pope, not a CEO, not a chairman of the board. The Canons call him the “First Father,” and the title is meant literally. He is a father among fathers, a shepherd of shepherds, charged with guarding the faith, approving the consecration of bishops, and holding together a communion that stretches from the Philippines to Kenya to California to Spain.

The Patriarch presides over the Patriarch’s Council, serves as the final approving authority for episcopal consecrations, and stands as the authority on all matters of doctrine, worship, pastoral care, and discipline within the ICCEC. He leads the Communion in vision and strategy, represents it to external bodies, and reports annually on the state of the Church.

Every exercise of that authority is embedded in consensus, council, and prayer. The Patriarch chairs the Council but sits as “first among equals.” He does not rule by decree. The ICCEC’s understanding of authority is covenantal: it flows downward from Christ, is exercised through mutual submission, and is tested in the crucible of common discernment.

A Patriarch must be strong enough to lead and humble enough to listen — not merely to other bishops, but to the Holy Spirit speaking through them. The Canons describe the ideal in language drawn from Scripture: a servant of servants, a pastor of pastors, one willing to lay down his life for the flock.

Giving Thanks for Archbishop Craig Bates

Before looking ahead, the Church pauses to look back with gratitude. Archbishop Craig Bates has served the Communion through a season that required steadiness, pastoral attentiveness, and a willingness to labor in ways that rarely make headlines. The work of a Patriarch is mostly invisible to the people in the pews. It happens in long-distance phone calls, in quiet counsel with bishops, in the patient maintenance of relationships across cultures and time zones.

Under Archbishop Bates, the ICCEC has continued to mature as a global communion, holding together territories of vastly different sizes and circumstances while remaining anchored in its founding convergence vision. For this faithful, unglamorous service we give thanks to God and honor Archbishop Bates for answering the call placed upon him.

How We Got Here

The ICCEC Canons establish that the Patriarch’s Council selects the Patriarch by consensus under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. This will be the selection of our third Patriarch, and the first time the Communion has walked through the full canonical process for a patriarchal transition — a significant moment not only for the present but for the precedent it sets for generations to come.

The responsibility of organizing the election fell to Bishop Elmer Belmonte, the senior bishop of the ICCEC by consecration date. Bishop Elmer formed an Ad Hoc Committee drawing members from every major region of the Communion — bishops and clergy from Africa, Asia, Europe, and North America — to articulate a process that would be canonical, grounded in consensus government, internationally representative, and faithful to the Communion’s identity.

The result was a formal document — Election of the New Patriarch: Criteria, Qualifications, and Procedure — published October 24, 2025, and circulated to the entire Communion. The committee also received a detailed canonical analysis from a canon lawyer in the Diocese of Europe, ensuring the process aligned precisely with the Canons. Together, these documents provide both a framework for the present election and a model for the future.

In a statement accompanying the committee’s work, Bishop Elmer framed its role with characteristic clarity: “The role of the committee is to prepare the framework for the Patriarch’s Council in the selection of the next Patriarch, trusting that the Holy Spirit will speak to the Council. The Third Person of the Trinity, in His sovereignty, may transcend all human processes and appoint the man of His choosing.”

He closed with the words of the Jerusalem Council: “For it seemed good to the Holy Spirit, and to us, to lay upon you no greater burden than these necessary things” (Acts 15:28).

The Selection Process

The process unfolds in four stages, each designed to allow the Holy Spirit to lead.

Nomination. Beginning in the fall of 2025, the Communion was invited to submit nominations. Each candidate required a sponsor — a respected member of the ICCEC with personal knowledge of the nominee over many years, confidence in his fitness for the office, and willingness to testify on his behalf. The nominee provides a biography and curriculum vitae to the bishop who presides over him.

Local Vetting. Nominations pass through the local House of Bishops in each territory. These bishops evaluate the nominee against objective qualifications — a minimum of ten years of pastoral experience, substantial episcopal service, proven adherence to the San Clemente Declaration and the three-streams vision, a stable marriage if married — as well as subjective ones: spiritual discernment, proven leadership, the ability to build consensus, and a recognized charism of spiritual paternity.

Committee Review. Nominees who pass local vetting are forwarded to the Ad Hoc Committee for a final round of scrutiny, including interviews where warranted. The committee then compiles its list of vetted candidates and presents them to the Patriarch’s Council. In January of this year, the Patriarch’s Council was presented with the list of vetted candidates, which began a period of concentrated prayer, fasting, and discernment.

The Conclave. This is what begins Thursday in Madrid. The Patriarch’s Council Members are invited to present their selected name from the list of candidates — not through voting, but as an expression of individually perceived guidance from the Spirit. Discussion is guided toward identifying where the Council senses consensus. The goal is not a majority but a unity of wills. When a candidate emerges, each Council member affirms his submission to the Holy Spirit’s choice. If questions remain, discernment continues. Only when full consensus is achieved is the selection recorded.

What Madrid Will Look Like

The conclave is intimate and deliberate. The Patriarch’s Council members gathering in Madrid — Archbishop Charles Jones, Archbishop Ariel Santos, Archbishop Joshua Koyo, Bishop Elmer Belmonte, Bishop Prakash Yuhanna, with Bishop Michael Davidson joining remotely from Kansas — will be supported by clergy serving in liturgical and administrative roles.

The Council will meet over two days, possibly three, spending mornings and afternoons in prayer and deliberation. Nominee information is presented to the Council at whatever point it is ready to receive it — a structure that gives the Spirit room to set the pace rather than the clock.

If consensus is reached, the new Patriarch will be announced when the entire gathering comes together for a Eucharistic celebration on Sunday, February 15^th.

Why This Moment Matters

Moments of leadership transition reveal what a church actually believes — about authority, about the Holy Spirit, about itself. The ICCEC’s process, with its insistence on consensus over voting, its layered vetting, and its foundational assumption that the Spirit speaks in corporate discernment, is a living enactment of this Communion’s ecclesiology. It is not merely how we select a leader. It is who we are.

In an era when most institutions choose their leaders through campaigns, platforms, and ballot counts, there is something countercultural about bishops gathering in a room to pray until they agree. It is slower. It requires a trust in the Holy Spirit that the world finds difficult to understand. But the Church has always staked its life on the conviction that God actually governs His people — and this week in Madrid, we will watch that conviction at work.

Bearing Witness

I will be present in Madrid on behalf of Three Streams United to observe the proceedings, report on the process, and conduct interviews with members of the Patriarch’s Council and the newly selected Patriarch. Our aim is to offer coverage that is clear, faithful, and honest: to help the wider Church understand not only what happens, but why it matters. Follow this coverage on our Substack, Instagram and YouTube Channel.

But the most important work this week does not belong to journalists or committees. It belongs to the whole Church at prayer. The Ad Hoc Committee asked every diocese in the Communion to include the election in the Prayers of the People. That invitation extends to you now.

Pray for the Patriarch’s Council as they gather. Pray for the bishops and clergy who have traveled to Madrid. Pray for wisdom, unity, and protection. Pray that the Church will have ears to hear what the Spirit is saying.

In an age hungry for spectacle and speed, this Communion believes that God still speaks in prayer, still leads through humility, and still gives fathers to His people.

Non nobis Domine — “Not to us, O Lord; not to us, but to Your Name give glory.”

Dcn. Jesse Harris is a deacon in the ICCEC and a contributor to Three Streams United. Follow coverage of the Madrid conclave at our Youtube and Instagram

Subscribe now

.

St. Anthony is one the most incredible figures in the history of the Early Church. Born in Egypt in 251 AD, Anthony heard the call of the Gospel and underwent a radical conversion. He heard Jesus say, “Go, sell everything that you have and give to the poor,” (Mark 10:21) and gave his life over to Christ in such a profound way that he literally sold and gave away everything that he owned to provide for the poor and then went off to lead a life of solitude in the desert.

His life of solitude was not lived out in complete isolation, however. Instead he strived to live his life “always … in union first with the Lord and then with the Saints.” Although receiving the Holy Eucharist and other sacraments were rare for desert monks, St. Anthony lived a life in communion with Jesus and the Communion of Saints. He drew strength from the power and presence of Jesus in the Word, prayer, and the Sacraments.

And tremendous strength he had! Upon dedicating his life to The Lord, St. Anthony immediately faced immense spiritual warfare. What began as tempting thoughts became demonic visions and treacherous demons coming disguised as angels of light. Ultimately, St. Anthony was physically assaulted by demons who left him beaten and unconscious. In spite of it all, St. Anthony overcame these demonic assaults by calling upon the name of Jesus and quoting Holy Scripture at the demons. He knew that victory came not by the strength of man, but by union with Christ and the power of the living Word of God. He practiced both humility and perseverance in dealing with his spiritual warfare. Besides all of his personal spiritual warfare, St. Anthony moved powerfully in the Gifts of the Spirit among the brethren, being anointed with gifts of prophecy, discernment, exorcism, and healing.

Later in his Life, St. Anthony yielded to the many requests to take on students and agreed to form a simple monastery. He risked execution during the persecution of Christians under the Emperors Diocletian and Galerius by caring for those who had already been imprisoned. He rejected the Heretic Arius and proclaimed the true nature of Jesus Christ as fully God and fully man. Ultimately, he died peacefully in his monastery at the age of 105!

Fr. Scott Looker is the Rector of the Church of the Messiah in Jacksonville, FL, in the Diocese of Florida and the Caribbean. His personal Substack Blog can be found at this LINK.

We live in the age of digital paragons promising to set us free. We are flooded with invitations, sales pitches, and demands to be better. Do you feel too fat, too lazy, too poor, too sinful, too needy, too alone? Find an influencer, follow the commands, buy the merch, purchase the course, and your inadequacies will be solved.

In one sense, these social media personalities are right. If we scrutinize ourselves for long enough, we will agree that we indeed are too fat, lazy, poor, etc. We know that we could benefit from self-improvement. In fact, if you follow these influencers, you might even like yourself better in the short term.

However, in the age of algorithmic emotional manipulation, we can easily confuse the lifelong work of Christ with the formulas of grindset bros, the influencer girlies, and the self-help gurus, exchanging immediate external gains for a life of internal poverty. You might stop drinking, have better physical health, get more done, earn more money, but you will simultaneously realize that the god you serve cannot fix you. No amount of health saves you from death, no amount of money makes you less alone, and no amount of productivity gives you the worth you crave.

Of course, we should absolutely learn from those who are farther along than we are, and many of these influencers are experts in their field. You will surely learn more about running a business from accomplished entrepreneur, Alex Hormozi, than your parish priest.

The problem comes when we think ultimate salvation can be obtained from the person who can teach us the best workout routine or financial plan. Our priorities are in desperate need of reordering. What we lack is not information, technique, or motivation, but icons that point us to Christ.

“What Do We Seek First?”

“Seek first the Kingdom of God” is not just a pithy phrase. It is the organizational principle for life. “All these things…” flows from this one thing.

When Christ is not in the highest place, the foundation, and the center (all classical ways of marking the same idea), then the competing pressures of social media, cultural pressure, and our own deceitful hearts will inevitably pull us out of alignment. What we give our attention to shapes what we love. When that attention is not properly focused on Jesus, other voices gain our devotion and eventually our worship. What we worship, we become.

You may have noticed a consistent fixture of the Three Streams Substack is a focus on the saints rather than an attempt to promote a new set of influencers affiliated with a denomination. We are seeking to follow Paul’s guidance to “become imitators of [them] as they imitate Christ.”

This flows from a conviction that those who became icons of Christ have more to teach us than someone capable of attracting a bunch of likes. An influencer invites us to master ourselves by following my strategy, but an icon points us to the Master and our life in Him. Keeping Christ our focus requires our attention, our devotion, and our worship. This is one of the revelations of the Incarnation. Jesus became the image of the invisible God that we might give Him all our attention, all our devotion, all our worship, and that we might become like Him.

Two Images To Consider

We all fall short, we all fail, we all feel our frailty, our inadequacy, but two images have been comforting and encouraging me lately.

First, there is the image of a ship. James makes use of this imagery when he tells us that the tongue is like a rudder, “Look at the ships also: though they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs.” (James 3:4)

James goes on to say that whoever can manage his speech is perfect. Lord, have mercy! The image of a ship at sea is a common Biblical image. We can view the Christian life like this. We are the ship. We have been made seaworthy in our baptism, the Holy Spirit is the wind in our sails and our compass. As we navigate the seas of time, we look to Christ that: “we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes. Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ...” (Ephesians 4:14-15)

Like a ship, we are constantly adjusting our heading to point to our North Star and our destination, Jesus. We might even take various routes that look like detours but are brought into proper alignment through repentance and the power of the Holy Spirit. Ships never start in perfect alignment with their aim, and it is foolish to believe that we could do so. The complexities and storms of our life are constantly pulling us this way and that, but we trust the work of the Spirit to guide us to that true destination.

The enemy aims to make us believe that we can get there on our own strength, as if the wind and the compass were merely our abilities and our will, but Jesus reveals our weakness as the place of His strength. Surrender, repentance, and alignment with Christ are the ways to fulfillment and transformation.

The second great image of our discipleship to Christ is that of a guitar.

We have been made of exactly the right stuff; we have been equipped and purposefully molded to fit a particular scale, a particular tonality, and a particular intonation. However, our life is played by the Maestro, our story being pulled up into His. As we go through our individual and unique movements, we are constantly being tuned by the God of all beauty. We sometimes strike dissonant chords, we are often out of tune, but we are being fitted into the orchestra of humanity to play the celestial hymn of praise to our God.

If you have ever tuned a guitar, you will know that this process is not glamorous or simple. It can be unpleasant and defeating. One of the proper methods is to overcorrect and then come back to the center, stressing the string from flat to sharp and back in a dance of infinite play. The resonance and the harmonics of a well-tuned instrument can bring us to tears of joy in one moment and fall hopelessly into despair and atonality in the next. Our trust is not in our abilities to align with the Center, but in the hands of our Maker to tune us to Himself.

These two images help to insulate me from the pressures of the modern machine. Yes, I am not who I am called to be. But also, no, my deficiencies will not be solved by effort, education, or money. They are all completed, restored, fulfilled in the person of Jesus. This is why Paul can write that inconceivable (yes, the word means what I think it means) verse, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

As you are confronted endlessly by your own inadequacy, let us lean more into Christ and less on our own strength. Let’s look more to Him and less to them. Let’s trust the work of the Holy Spirit, even when the note we resonate is out of tune, or the vector we sail is blown off course. We can trust His providence, His care, and His love.

Subscribe now

Dcn. Jesse Harris serves at Saint Michael’s Church in San Clemente, CA. Follow his substack @

Saints Balthasar, Melchior, and Caspar

For this week’s Saint of the Week, we will highlight not one but three saints. St. Matthew tells us that “wise men from the East came to Jerusalem” to worship the King of the Jews who had been born since they had seen His star. Scripture never gives us their names nor does it even tell us how many wise men visited the Holy Family. Tradition tells us that the wise men were named Balthasar, Melchior, Caspar. While we do not exactly celebrate these men on Epiphany, we do celebrate what they represent. We see that in one of the other names for Epiphany; some traditions refer to Epiphany as the Manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles. Up until the wise men came and worshiped Jesus, every person who had witnessed, adored, and worshiped Our Lord had been Jewish. It is only when the wise men visit that people who are not Jewish begin to worship The Lord. This is incredibly important for all the Christians who are not Jewish which is, in fact, most of us.

But beyond the significance of non-Jewish followers of Christ one very important question comes up when dealing with the wise men: how did a trio of pagan court scholars look up into the sky and discern that the “King of the Jews” had been born? That answer goes back to the Prophet Daniel.

We know that Daniel was a young man when he was taken captive and made to serve in the court of Babylon under King Nebuchadnezzar. We also know that he ministered in the courts of Babylon under various kings for 65 years before the Babylonian Empire fell to the Persians. In spite of the multiple changes of regimes (which would generally result in all of the government officials being executed), Daniel continued to minister under at least two Persian kings, Darius and Cyrus. His influence and impact must have been profound. I believe that his impact was so profound that five centuries later his wisdom and prophecies were still being handed down to the wise men of that day. Why else would pagan scholars look up to the heavens, see an unusual star above them, and think to themselves, “This must be the sign of the birth of the king of the Jews”?

In addition to their presence in Scripture, the three wise men continue to appear in the season of Epiphany to this day. Throughout the season of Epiphany, as the new calendar year begins, there is a tradition of priests going to the homes of their parishioners and blessing the houses. During that service, the priest will mark the doorway like so: 20 C + M + B 26. While these letters are “actually” an abbreviated form of Christus Mansionem Benedicat, or “Christ Bless [this] House,” the letters also remind us of the three wise men, Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, who visited a house 2,000 years ago and blessed it by bringing their gifts and worshipping the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. If you would like to have your home blessed this Epiphany season, reach out to your pastor and ask to schedule a time for him to visit. In addition to receiving the grace of having your home blessed, you will have a reminder all year long to bring your gifts and worship the Lord all those centuries ago.

Fr. Scott Looker is the Rector of Church of the Messiah in Jacksonville, FL, in the Diocese of Florida and the Caribbean. His personal Substack Blog can be found at this LINK.

Today, we conclude the Christmas season with the Feast of Epiphany, commemorating a far more important hinge that took place millennia ago. Epiphany has been celebrated since the church’s earliest days. Taking place on January 6, it is a day rather than a period of days. The six Sundays that follow January 6 are considered Sundays after Epiphany rather than of Epiphany, leading directly into Lent. It’s almost as if the church is giving us a short, 24-hour period to answer the most important question ever posed to the human race: “Who do you say that I am?”

If you are looking for a focal point over the six weeks that follow this feast, the revelation of Jesus as the promised divine and incarnate light of the world is a good place to land. Not all who see this light believe. For every wise man willing to pursue a star in the sky, there is a Herod threatened and cold-hearted. For every Peter broken and needy enough to confess, there is a Pharisee too proud to bend the knee.

Many of us got a head start on Epiphany this past Sunday, reading from a lectionary that included the story of magi visiting Jesus from the east. This story, along with Jesus’ presentation in the temple and baptism in the Jordan, provides vivid narratives on which this milestone on the church’s calendar rests.

The Journey West

We do not really know how many of these wise men actually showed up, or with pinpoint accuracy, where in the east they came from. Instead of being beckoned by angels, like the shepherds, they were compelled by the stars. By the time they arrived at the home of Joseph and Mary, Jesus was a toddler, potentially capable of taking steps and meaningful interaction.

What was so monumental about this visit? The manifestation of who this child was.

“…lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them and stood over where the young child was…they rejoiced with exceedingly great joy.”(Matthew 2:9)

The worship and gifts of the wise men are their recognition of this child’s unique place in the cosmos, as the king of the Earth and savior of a universe that had fallen into enemy hands. The manifestation of God with us; God among us. The God of Israel, and the God of the world.

To fully appreciate the arrival of these magi, we must also dwell on their journey. The trip west was not without risk, chief among which was their encounter with Herod. A murderous tyrant appointed by Rome to reign over captive Judea, Herod ruled with equal parts vanity, ambition, and paranoia. He would have fit equally well in “Game of Thrones” or “The Sopranos.”

The magi’s arrival in Jerusalem is a fateful one for more than just those with whom they directly interacted. Herod, threatened by the prospect of a rival king, asks these men when the star first appeared and requests that they keep him informed on this child’s whereabouts. Almost as soon as they are out the door, Herod orders the murder of any boy under the age of two.

Father Kenneth Tanner, our priest in Rochester Hills, has long emphasized the critical importance of the Martyr of Innocents in the Christmas story. It’s not reenacted in your typical Christmas pageant and rarely falls on a Sunday in the Lectionary. But it is important to remember this: while tragic and senseless, these children do not die in vain. “They die for the Christ child before Christ dies for the world,” Father Ken reminded us this past Sunday morning. “And, their fate is a reminder of the danger that is inherent in so many aspects of the Christmas story.”

Being warned of such a danger in a dream, the wise men “departed into their own country another way.”

The Temple; The Waters of Baptism

The magi aren’t the only characters on the Epiphany stage. Although not always prominent on the actual feast day, two other men – an elderly soul named Simeon and Jesus’s cousin, John the Baptist, also play integral roles.

Simeon “was righteous and devout and eagerly waiting for the Messiah to come and rescue Israel.” The Holy Spirit had revealed to him that he would not die until he saw this come to pass. (Luke 2:25) So, when Mary and Joseph present the baby Jesus at the temple, according to legal customs, this old man takes the child in his arms, declaring “he is a light to reveal God to the nations, and he is the glory of your people Israel!”

Now Simeon can die in peace.

The biblical account of Jesus’s life rather hastily fast forwards to another epiphanal moment. Several years later, while standing in the Jordan River and preparing the way for one greater than himself, John sees Jesus coming, prompting a declaration of faith.

“Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.”

Where the wise men had decades earlier seen a star hanging over where Jesus was, John now sees another sign sent from the heavens above.

And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.” (John 1:29-34)

Later in Jesus’s ministry, our Lord asks the Pharisees a very important question that we now contemplate at Epiphany. “What think ye of Christ?” The Pharisees acknowledge Christ is the “Son of David” because it was a common, accepted messianic title, but they struggle with the next step. The implication that the Messiah was also David’s Lord proves to be a step too far.

The words of Simeon and John the Baptist point to proper but sometimes difficult responses to this question. The arrival of Jesus compels us to our knees. Truly, a king is born among us. This is the anthem of Christmas. That manifestation of Jesus as the king of all kings compels us to take that next step and declare who he ultimately is. This is the Son of God.

Subscribe now

–Deacon John Stoll serves at Church of the Holy Redeemer in Rochester Hills, Michigan. He and his wife, Kimberly, have seven children. John is a writer and public affairs adviser.

Many of us celebrated a new year several weeks ago on the first Sunday of Advent. This is the season to recognize that, although we live in a dark world, there is an everlasting light always working to clear the murk. As we near the midpoint of the 12 days of Christmas, our adoration is renewed, and our anticipation is heightened.

One of the quirks of the liturgical calendar is the proximity of the church’s new year to the commencement of the Gregorian new year. Rather than see January 1st as an interruption to our worship, we should recognize it as an invitation to deepen our faith and sharpen our perspective. To reflect. To recalibrate.

We all walk into 2026 carrying different loads. For some, the yoke has been remarkably light. Others are suffocating under the weight of intense baggage. Like Jeremiah, you might say “my soul continually thinks of (affliction and misery) and is bowed down within me.” (Lamentations 3:20)

It’s hard for me to read this passage and not realize how deeply intertwined and even interchangeable suffering and blessing are. One person’s suffering is another person’s dream. Monday morning can be bathed in bliss; by Monday night, that bliss can be replaced with profound despair. Some find intense meaning in being broken; some find profound emptiness in wanting for nothing.

When I think of how to approach our volatile existence, I am reminded of my family’s summers in northern Michigan. Our favorite times are spent on a speck of a boat floating in a massive Great Lake. Vacations wouldn’t be the same without the bobs, the dips, and the splashes. When it’s time to call it a day, it is also time to secure the boat lines to a reliable mooring. Why? Even the most placid twilight waters will inevitably be replaced by tomorrow’s tempest.

As we encounter a new year, the question on our minds isn’t whether the waves will come. They will. The question, instead, is this: “To what is my dock line latched?” What defines my hope and stay?”

To answer those questions, we need only to continue in Lamentations. The first 20 verses of chapter 3 provide some of the most vivid descriptions of human agony ever committed to parchment. However, if there has ever been a more effectively abrupt and meaningful transition in the history of literature than verse 21, I have yet to find it.

“But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him.’ The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul that seeks him. It is good that one should wait for the salvation of the Lord.”

Amid defeat and torment, Jeremiah identifies an anchor that can withstand even the most threatening of gales. “His mercies” is the anthem for every new day and, in this case, a new year. Yesterday’s bitterness is but an aftertaste. It can be buried and left behind. Likewise, yesterday’s joy is a gift, but not a guarantee of continued bliss.

Are you expecting today to bring you more of what your neighbor has? Are you expecting a day without suffering? Are you expecting to play back a yesterday that was perfect? These are fragile hopes, easily dashed. The same is true of the resolutions many of us will make in the coming days. As we set out to be or do something, do not lose sight of the fact that we are works in progress – not finished goods. Therefore, rather than striving for perfection in a given period of time, strive to more fully participate in the perfecting work of God that is taking place on his timetable.

I’m a believer in living one day at a time. What other choice do we have but to simply take life as it comes? But there is a necessary ingredient to making this work. Our expectations for what today will bring must be tuned by the eternal, not the temporary. When we come to accept the fragility of circumstances, we can better rely on the adequacy of God’s perpetually regenerating provision. That’s where hope lies.

‭‭–Deacon John Stoll serves at Church of the Holy Redeemer in Rochester Hills, Michigan. He and his wife, Kimberly, have seven children. John is a writer and public affairs adviser.

Subscribe now

December 28^th is also both the seventy-sixth birthday of our second Patriarch, Archbishop Craig Bates, and marks the day of his retiring as our Patriarch. The Patriarch’s Council will meet early in 2026 to elect our third Patriarch.

As we remember the innocent children who were murdered because of a tyrannical king, let us also take a moment and give thanks to The Lord for a man who has served as a priest in the Kingdom of God for over 45 years and has served God as our Patriarch for 17 years. Throughout the decades of his ministry, Archbishop Bates has been committed to helping the least, the lost, and the lonely find the freedom that can only be found in Christ Jesus. He has led countless Christians over the years to experience the power of the Holy Spirit and the beauty of receiving the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ Himself. It is especially appropriate on the Feast of Holy Innocents to remember that Archbishop Bates and Fr. Terry Gensemer founded CEC for Life, an international outreach ministry dedicated to the Gospel truth that all lives are sacred. Since 2001, CEC for Life has seen incredible advancements in the cause of life including the overturning of Roe v. Wade and abortion having been made illegal in several states across the United States of America.

For ten years now, Church of the Messiah has been praying the Liturgy for the Pre-Born once a month in front of one of our local abortion clinics. The Saturday after Christmas we observe the Commemoration of the Holy Innocents. It is a harsh reminder in a festive season that, even today, cruel tyrants work tirelessly to slaughter innocent children. In your prayers today, using words from the Liturgy for the Pre-Born, ask the Lord that the Kingdom of God would apprehend and overtake the culture of death that has prevailed through deceit and selfishness, and give thanks to The Lord for a faithful and good shepherd who has loved the Charismatic Episcopal Church and served Jesus Christ so faithfully for so many years.

Fr. Scott Looker is the Rector of Church of the Messiah in Jacksonville, FL, in the Diocese of Florida and the Caribbean. His person Substack Blog can be found at this LINK.

After Our Lord’s Resurrection and Ascension, St. John traveled north and preached the Gospel near Ephesus until he was arrested for confronting idol worshippers and exiled to the island of Patmos. It was on Patmos that St. John was praying “in the spirit on the Lord’s day” when he was given the incredible visions that became the Book of the Revelation. While receiving these incredible visions, St. John never asked Our Lord who He was, because he had no need. He had already seen Jesus in His transfigured glory on the Mount of Transfiguration with Peter and James, and he had laid his head on Jesus’ breast and heard His heartbeat at the Last Supper.

While St. John is the only Evangelist who does not recount the Institution of the Holy Eucharist at the Last Supper, no other writer comes close to the truth and beauty of the Sacrament as St. John does in Chapter 6 of his Gospel. In that sermon, He recalls Our Lord’s words when He proclaimed, “I am the Bread of Life,” “I am the Bread which came down from Heaven,” and “I am the Living Bread.” He also proclaimed, “Most assuredly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For My flesh is food indeed, and My blood is drink indeed. He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in him. As the living Father sent Me, and I live because of the Father, so he who feeds on Me will live because of Me.”

St. John is my very favorite evangelist. The first chapter of his Gospel has some of the most beautiful verses ever written. St. John had an intimate and personal view of Jesus that the other evangelists just did not have. According to tradition, each of the evangelists were represented by one of the living creatures in Ezekiel’s vision. Matthew is represented by the man, Mark by the lion, Luke by the bull, and St. John by the eagle. There are many stories about why this is the case, but my favorite interpretation says that John is represented by the eagle because his view of the life of Christ soars high above all the others. With all of this in mind, it is no surprise we named one of our sons John. St. John is also one of my patron saints because his feast day is also my birthday!

Fr. Scott Looker is the Rector of Church of the Messiah in Jacksonville, FL, in the Diocese of Florida and the Caribbean. His person Substack Blog can be found at this LINK.

St. Stephen “full of great faith and power, did many wonders and signs among the people.” Although Scripture does not tell us what miracles St. Stephen performed through the Holy Spirit, his Spirit-inspired teaching convicted many of their sins and resulted in others leveling false accusations of blasphemy against him. When brought before the High Priest, St. Stephen passionately and without restraint preached the saving message of Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, beginning with the stories of Abraham, Jacob, and Moses, and working his way through all of salvation history.

When the leaders heard St. Stephen’s preaching “They were cut to the heart,” and dragged him out of the town to execute him. As they were throwing heavy stones at his head, St. Stephen looked up and “saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of the Father.” Before he died, St. Stephen cried out, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit,” and, “Lord, do not charge them with this sin,” echoing the very words that Jesus Himself spoke from the Cross. Even in his death, St. Stephen spread the Gospel. Following his death, a severe persecution of Christians began following his death that led Christians to flee Jerusalem and take the Gospel wherever they traveled.

Many CEC churches have an icon of St. Stephen in their sanctuaries. Some of them have them hanging over the deacon’s seat near the altar. This serves as a reminder to the deacons and other clergy about what it means to serve the Church and minister in God’s name. The very first deacon reminds all of us about how we are called to serve God’s people in Spirit and in truth, in word and in power.

Fr. Scott Looker is the Rector of Church of the Messiah in Jacksonville, FL, in the Diocese of Florida and the Caribbean. His person Substack Blog can be found at this LINK.

Like so many figures in Israel, Joseph is a christ before Christ. He covers and carries Mary’s “shame,” not only in the crucial moment of decision, but for the rest of his life, even if Mary’s only shame is a shame projected by busybodies, insinuated by the self-assured.

One might even say that Joseph “forgives” Mary, though, of course, there is nothing to forgive. Her consent to bear the Son of God by the Spirit involves breaking no promises to Joseph. Mary’s faithfulness to God is also her faithfulness to her betrothed, her decision to be faithful for Israel even when Israel is unfaithful. This, too, makes the Mother of God a christ before (and with) Christ.

Unlike all other conceptions, there’s no male reproductive participation in God becoming flesh. The conception of Jesus is humanly biological but only by and in Mary. The rest is the work of the Holy Spirit. (It continues to be a source of some curiosity in me why contemporary womanists are not the strongest advocates for the virgin conception of our Lord.)

But the coming of God in the flesh is not absent a male presence. Joseph is as caught up in the mystery of faithfulness as Mary is. The Father makes Joseph the foster father of his Son, a father not to the fatherless but a partner with God in parenting the son he names Jesus, the Son who is God with us.

Joseph is faithful even when everything in his world appears lost -- one that is attentive to angels in a world that denies them; one that is fearless in a world of shame and violence; one that heeds the voice of God in a world of lies. Joseph is a good man in a time of evil, a man made good by the God he loves.

Joseph protects the vulnerable God that is his child and our child, the child who is our protection from all that seeks to harm us and the world. And for all these reasons and more we should honor and remember Joseph more than we do, considering his role as an exemplar for our Advent.

The Rev. Kenneth Tanner is pastor of Church of the Holy Redeemer in Rochester Hills, Michigan. His book, Vulnerable God, will be published by Brazos Press in September 2026.
You can follow his Substack here.