“In the words of a broken heart, It’s just emotion that’s taken me over, Tied up in sorrow, lost in my soul…” (1977) “Emotion” Recorded By: Samantha Sang Composed By: Robin Hugh Gibb / Barry Alan Gibb
It’s been a longer span of time since I wrote a post on this blog. A number of reasons come to mind as I write this, but for now I will say it’s because of grief. Really, grief is just a pinch inside a mix of ingredients. Grief, with a good dose of anger, stirred with a mix of anxiousness makes for a good bunt cake to the belly. Throw that in a pre-heated oven deep down inside, and see what comes out as the temperature rises. Have you felt it yourself? This cake is bitter.
Grief can be born out of many things. Frankly, it could be manifested out of an ongoing flash flood of issues, washing everything down stream, taking out foundations which were once thought as solid and sturdy.
Take note of the drastic rise in crime across the U.S. Notice the overwhelming splash of drug abuse nationwide. Research the scoreless population of homelessness in our streets and under bridges. Violence is becoming the norm in the streets, against everyone, including Asians, elderly, and children. Much of which were committed by ex-cons who were set free from behind bars. Others act out due to mental illness, peer pressure, or pure hatred. Where is the righteous rage?
Try not to ignore the vast numbers of “illegal” immigrants crossing our southern border at will. Throngs have entered illegally from all over the world. The White House continues to sit in silence about this problem. Many of these are sexually abused on the journey, victims of human trafficking. A few days ago, two little girls under 10 years old, walking solo across the border, had been sexually assaulted. Our border officers have had to get wet while retrieving bodies floating in the Rio Grande, including the bodies of children. Not a peep from the White House, as if it’s not happening. When out of the confines of much of the media, you will find out that thousands of these untested, unmasked, unvaccinated illegal immigrants are ill with COVID as they are freely placed by our government all over the U.S. by plane and bus, possibly in your town unknowingly. It’s not a racial statement to point out the facts of what is going on. That’s a foolish default narrative accusation set-up by those who don’t want to face the problem, but are willing to attack those who do. Pouring in without resistance includes drug mules, various criminals, and well-known gang members, including the murderous, MS-13. Very few are being vetted. There are those close to the the border crisis warning of terrorists taking advantage of an reckless open border. Yet, the White House looks the other way. Yep, nothing to see here. That’s the same people who planned the exit from Afghanistan. Trust?
Unwise massive spending bills, much of which are politically charged from the far left, are being passed that will cripple our economy, leaving generations to come under water. Trillions of dollars we Americans do not have. We are no longer energy self-sufficient. Fossil fuel production here has been dramatically clipped in the last 8 months, and now we are dependent on OPEC, and OPEC’s whims once again. Sure, some nations pay $9.00/gallon and call it, “normal”. Some pay more than that. Is that what we want? My wallet isn’t big enough. How about yours? Maybe we will find a way to grind up all those statues of the founding fathers we have torn down and pour the dust into our gas tanks. Do you think that will work? At the same time, businesses are shutting down, while some can’t stay open due to the lack of employees. Why? Because the White House continues to spoon feed people with unemployment checks, along with stimulus checks, which add up to much more than their salaries.
Critical Race Theory is quickly becoming a norm for school districts all across the nation. Why do we approve of our children being soaked in the false narrative that one race is better than the other, adding that one race is a perpetual victim at birth? CRT teaches against Martin Luther King, Jr. He believed a nation should not judge by the color of skin, but by one’s character. CRT aims to divide the population into tribes, no longer with the goal of ONE NATION, ONE PEOPLE. The White House approves. Why is that?
We have a Godless generation being raised. Marxism is celebrated now. That sound isn’t wooden pews creaking as someone shifts their weight, it’s crickets. Ebbing away are moral directives and disciplines, unless it’s from the gang-banger on the corner, or the leftest professor with a communistic agenda. In fact, I have seen more Christian-haters, and Jew-haters, online now than ever before who rage openly, about how people of faith should be removed, or shut down in the proverbial public square. Just today, I read a post from an old friend who blamed the resistance to mask mandates on…(wait for it)…”religious people.” Have we forgotten how Nero blamed the ills of the Roman Empire, and even the burning of Rome on…(wait for it)…Christians? Oh, yeah. If CRT is replacing true history, than maybe no one will know about that.
I have seen people I know die from COVID. At this very moment, one of my dearest cousins is struggling for her life from this virus, and her husband is in ICU on a ventilator who may not recover from it. At the same time, there are multitudes who will read this and respond with, “If they are part of the unvaccinated, they deserve to suffer and die.” The White House is now using a carefully crafted title, “The Pandemic of The Unvaccinated”. This is dangerous! It sets the idea, for minds of mush, that the pandemic is only here due to individuals who have chosen not to get vaccinated. Thus, the blame-game. This is where we are in our society now. The love of many will indeed wax cold, so says scripture.
Unfortunately, much of our current politicians in Washington DC, care more about applauding themselves on passing a multi-trillion dollar spending bill into law, or the number of vaccines pierced this week, or how many masks are smothered over the faces of Americans than the sloppy mess of how it was decided to exit our people from Afghanistan. Because of this failure, many American soldiers have been killed in the process of helping to evacuate helpless civilians in harms way. Scores of civilian losses. Women who remain will be beaten, raped, murdered, and refused access to education. Why? Because there, they are seen as pack mules and baby factories by extremist pigs like the Taliban and ISIS-K. In THIS crisis, the White House can’t look the other way, only due to the outrage of the majority of Americans, as the White House watches the polls in hopes it will be just another news cycle scenario. Experts now fear another 9/11 will take place. I certainly expect it.
So, yes, my grief is good! It needs to happen. Too many today are NOT grieving over the dragging down of our nation, our culture, our society, our laws. Too many haven’t felt grief at all because of the option to medicate oneself. Drink this. Swallow this. Shoot-up this. Snort this. So many of what’s running through our veins is coming across…(wait for it)…our southern border. Soon, grief is drowned in the pool of a blank mind, a blank spirit, a blank soul. America is in trouble. And if America is in trouble, the free world is in trouble.
Believe me when I say, I am not wallowing in grief, but I do find it difficult to shampoo it all away. How do YOU rinse it out?
Grief itself is not wrong. It is not a sin. In fact, Jesus said it’s even rewarded.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” – Jesus – Matthew 5:3-4 (NAS)
Even Jesus was a man of sorrows. He wasn’t shielded from hurting and pain.
After His friend, Lazarus died, he was hit with grief. Before raising him from the dead…
“Jesus wept.” – John 11:35 (KJV)
He mourned for His nation in peril and disarray.
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you that murdered The Prophets and stoned those who were sent to it! How many times have I desired to gather your children, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing! Behold, your house is left to you desolate!” – Jesus – Matthew 23:37-38 (Aramaic Bible In Plain English)
He sees. He knows. He weeps. The Author and Finisher of The Faith wrote of all of the above in prophecies, both in the Old Testament and the New Testament.
He also comforts in the most difficult of times. That means I can react to our state of affairs and grieve. In doing so, I know I am in good company.
Grieving is expected. Righteous action is plainly printed in fuel for the race.
“I heard the LORD of Hosts declare: “‘Surely many houses will become desolate, great mansions left unoccupied. ‘” Isaiah 5:9 (Berean Study Bible)
“You don’t know me but I’m your brother. I was raised here in this living hell. You don’t know my kind in your world. Fairly soon the time will tell. You – Telling me the things you’re gonna do for me. I ain’t blind and I don’t like what I think I see. (Takin’ it to the streets) Takin’ it to the streets…” (1976) “Takin’ It To The Streets” Recorded by: The Doobie Brothers Composer: Michael McDonald
Oh, but blindness is a secret ingredient in our sour bread today.
A text dinged my phone late Friday night. It was my daughter, Megan. She lives in downtown Buffalo, NY. She informed me about a rioting mob coming down her street and how she was on her way to move her curb-parked car before the mob arrived. Although she found a safer place to park her car, other properties around her didn’t do so well in the wake of the raging rioters. The following morning she explained how the smashing of storefront windows, in concert with the screaming and yelling, kept her awake all night long. In the light of day she left her apartment to find shops, restaurants, and car windows smashed, along with burned-out vehicles from arsonists. Her heart was broken over the businesses she frequents. Many of the owners are her friends. Megan attacked the broken glass on the walkways with a broom to aid in the aftermath. She’s a great gal, if I do say so myself.
Of course, this all helped her to understand just how to honor the family of the late, George Floyd, mercilessly killed at the hands of Minneapolis police officers on Memorial Day. I’m certain she will now want to destroy the lives around her the very next time a rogue city employee invokes a racist action. After all, isn’t that what is in vogue currently? Shouldn’t we burn down the local drug store where your son, grandmother, or dad purchases insulin? If you hear one racial slur, or just hear about it second hand, no doubt you will break the windows of a mom & pop clothing store, and loot everything you can grab. While you’re at it, take selfies of yourself holding up the stolen goods so it can be stored in the cloud to find you guilty in a future court of law. In fact, whatever out-of-state wrongdoing we hear about, let’s just drive to the next town over to throw firebombs at the closest law enforcement officer standing on any given street corner. (You know, the officer who has a spouse and three kids waiting at home.) In this way, after accomplishment, we can proudly say, “There! That will teach the *#@%!! wrongdoer I heard about from a state on the other side of the *#@%!! nation!”
It was heart-ripping to watch the brutality which ended in the murder of George Floyd of Minneapolis. Like most, I felt the boil in my belly as shock and dismay were overcome by raw anger. The action of the criminal cops was nothing short of outrageous, evil, and abominable. If the lady who holds up the scales in the courthouse is awake, I am certain justice will be served.
As I write this, there is a planned protest underway at our local police station here in our northern suburb of Dallas, Tx. America’s freedoms allow such peaceful protests. It is the way of our constitutional rights to do so, to speak openly and freely, without fear of governmental reprisals, or any other citizen who may have another viewpoint. It was written long ago in the infancy of our nation to freely assemble, to freely speak, even in “peaceful” protest of our government, local or federal. Our founders believed these rights were given to us by God, nature’s God. This indicates that no person, nor a person’s government, nor king, gave us these rights. We (humanity) inherited them from our Creator from the beginning. If the “peaceful” protesters, a couple miles from me, keep that in mind, maybe my house will not be burned down tonight.
This would be the same God who also put in writing that it is a sin to steal, kill, and destroy your neighbor. In other words, when we review this carefully we can see that if we have these rights given by God, then we certainly can say this God is firmly against viciously raping the rights of a neighbor while stealing, killing, and destroying. Lawlessness has a heavy price tag. It’s important to note in our day and culture the following…
GOD IS NOT SCHIZOPHRENIC!
Check my archives. Many times I have written about the scourge of racism. What we witnessed in Minneapolis was a hate crime, in my opinion. Of course, the courts will have to decide this based on the evidence at hand. However, what we have faced in recent days in our country has ZERO to do with racism, or even the tragic slaughter of George Floyd. I know, there will be some who say it has everything to do with it. But I dare you to be honest in a bout of reconsideration. Follow me on this.
Martin Luther King, Jr knew and exercised peaceful protests. An incredible man following God’s heart for the people of this nation under God. Efforts to “take down” America, using a scorched earth method in our streets, is not the protest MLK approved of. In fact, if you read his writings, listen to his sermons, you will find it would grieve him greatly.
Our peaceful protests have been hijacked by anarchists who have a vision of the destruction of America. And don’t be fooled. Our enemies are circling like birds of prey to see if self-engineered anarchy can leave this nation in ruin, especially so quickly after the COVID-19 pandemic.
There is a great darkness over our land today. This is a spiritual problem. I watch these 20 year old hooded puppets of the anarchists, anarchists who cowardly hide behind a curtain, mindlessly hellbent on devouring America and my heart hurts. Most are teens and up to 30 years old or so. They are full of a rage they don’t even understand, although they are directed to believe they understand. So, like a master instrumentalist playing a flute, they teach the torching of the cafe and shoe store their grandparents helped to build. Most are drunk in the thrill of the flames, the shattered glass, the stolen property, along with bodily harm to the innocent. Not once do these young minds of mush think about what comes next if they succeed. Do you think that they really know? The reality is, they would find themselves enslaved to another form of government that deletes their rights, decays their open future for the better, and defies the God Who gave them such liberty of law for the pursuit of happiness. Endless poverty like they’ve never known. Tyrannic brutality beyond modern-day description. Not to mention, they will be forced to the front lines of a nuclear conflict to come in short order.
I watch them and see they have no fear of God. The fear of a Supreme One, who dictates the times, laws, and steps of nations, is not in these street puppets. The Minneapolis officers displayed no fear of God during the memorial Day murder of George Floyd. Once based on the Almighty, this country suffers from the willingness of ejecting the Great I Am of scripture for the role of a marionette.
A nation without the fear of its Creator is a spiraling one. It’s been proven over and over again. God, help us all.
Hard lessons are rolled up in the scrolls of fuel for the race.
“Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin condemns any people.” – Proverbs 14:34 (NIV)
“A child is black. A child is white. Together they grow to see the light, to see the light…” (1972) Black & White – Recorded by: Three Dog Night. Composers: David I. Arkin, Earl Robinson.
Appreciation note: A quick thank you to the very kind, Alicia from the blog, For His Purpose for nominating my blog for the Sunshine Blogger Award. I am greatly shocked and humbled. I do enjoy your everyday camera angles of life with the filter of truths.
This will not be a political post. This will not be a ranting post concerning those who play at politics, or the swift blinding blame of another. This will lack the spewing of hatred and emotional blathering of negativity currently blowing across the media. If that’s what feeds you, look elsewhere. However, if you are open-minded, wanting to hop off the meat wagon, serving up all kinds of dangerous rhetoric currently being wielded like a Gladius sword, you are welcome to read below.
Billy Boyd was my best friend in 7th grade. In those times that was our first year at Dillingham Jr. High School, before “middle school” was introduced. We lived in Sherman, Tx where the west side of town was mainly made up of white population. There was also the east side where the African American community settled, or was made to settle in post-Civil War days. Dillingham Jr. High was situated close to the border of the east and west sides of the medium market town. We met on our first day of the new school year.
When we left our elementary schools to enter 7th grade, it was a cultural shock for all of the student body. Obviously my elementary school consisted of mostly white kids. At Dillingham the heavy black and white mix was a first for all of us. Billy was African American from the east side of the tracks. He was my first black school friend ever. At the time I really thought nothing about it. In fact, I thought it was cool to have a black friend who was my age.
What I didn’t expect, nor every experienced before, was racial name-calling, slurs, racial riots on campus, gang violence, and violent ambushes. (Forgive me for giving too much info here, but I must write it.) As a white kid relieving himself at the urinal, I was kicked in the back from time to time. Once, I was slammed in the back of my head with a football helmet while standing there facing the wall. This was the environment I was introduced to. Billy didn’t have anything to do with the vicious tagging of white kids. I was on the sharp end of the above racial abuses in a big way simply because I was a white kid from the west side. There were attacks I received in the hallways, between buildings, after football practice, and after school on my way across campus to the bike rack. Some of these were 15 and 16 years old students who were still repeating 7th or 8th grades. I received threats concerning my dog and my mom. In that school year, I learned how to box and street fight the hard way. My uncle taught me how to box, and another friend trained me in Aikido that same year. Through it all, Billy and I remained friends. You might say we were the odd couple. After the school year slowly dropped me into the summer break, my mom relocated out of town, and just in time. Only God knows what might have been if I had spent another year in racial turmoil. However, the hatred and bigotry had a profound influence on me. But, I would experience it again.
When I was a toddler, 98 years after slavery ended in the U.S., I met my first African American. (I have written about him before, but it’s been a couple of years.) While visiting my grandparents in Greenville, Tx, every-other Saturday they had their lawn work done by an elderly black man named Mr. Amos. To this day I don’t know if that was a surname or his first name. No doubt he was the son of slaves, living in the far east side of Greenville in a sector notable for the African American neighborhood. I recall there being a side street which served as the border between whites and blacks, as it was set-up by the local government leaders in the late 1800’s.
From my toddler days, all the way to 11 years old or so, I LOVED old Mr. Amos. I saw him as an uncle from another grandmother. The neighborhood in those days would remind you of the street scenes from the movie, To Kill A Mockingbird. He would drag his lawn mower down the street cutting grass and hedges for a few dollars. To see him was like imagining Mr. Bojangles in various ways. He was ragged, skinny, and toughened by the years. His very dark skin was weathered and rough from a lifetime of working in the Texas sun, like leather from an old baseball glove. He always had an old rag, or bandanna hanging out his back pants pocket, along with old worn-out hard-soled leather lace-up shoes. The elderly man always did a wonderful job on the lawn and hedges. He had the talent. Whenever I was there, I would watch him out my grandparent’s front window as he worked his fingers to the bone with pride. I never saw anyone sweat as much as he did. When he finished the front lawn he began to pull his mower up the driveway toward the backyard. From the time I was 3, my grandmother would take an ice cold, frosted bottle of Dr. Pepper out of the fridge, pop open the cap with the bottle opener, which hung on her kitchen wall, hand it to me and say, “Alan, you go give this to poor Mr. Amos.” Wrapped around it was the money he earned. (They were very liberal with the payment.) I would grin from ear to ear as I ran outside before he reached the back. There in my Buster Browns I proudly said in my Mickey Mouse voice, “Here ya go, Mr. Amos!” No matter how often our encounters, he always acted surprised as he shook my hand and replied with his gruff voice, “Well, what’s this here? (chuckle) Why…thank ya, son!” When in my earlier age, I would look at the palm of my hand to see if the black color rubbed off his sweating hand. I kid you not, he never took his mouth off the bottle until it was turned upside-down and empty, without taking a breath. There’s no way I could do that. I would watch him drink in shear amazement. Handing the empty bottle back to me, he would exhale with a huge drawn-out gasp, like a swimmer coming up for air and say, “That’s my boy!” I always waited to hear him say those words. It made my day. He didn’t know it but just saying that to this fatherless lad made me feel warm inside. With his statement of gratitude, I ran back in to tell my grandmother once again, how he called me “son” and what’s more, I was “his boy”. I honored and respected him. Through the years of youth, I wondered why he always looked so poor.
I’m not certain what year it was, but I will say I was 13 (1973) when hatred came calling.
Mr. Amos was in my grandparent’s yard, doing his job one Saturday, when he was suddenly interrupted by his son and daughter-in-law who had pulled up in the driveway. The man was angry with his father for mowing the lawns of “Honkies”. (It’s a name I was familiar with from school. I didn’t believe Mr. Amos thought I was one of those.) Mr. Amos protested saying he was doing his purpose in that stage of his life. The voices got louder as they argued in the side yard. I pressed my ear to the nearest window to hear more clearly what was being said. The son of Mr. Amos spewed about how shameful it was to be “workin’ for the white man” and how embarrassed he was to see him on our lawn in the “white part of town”. My granddad came out to see what the issue was. After he was told, my granddad gently explained to Mr. Amos that it was okay if he needed to go and do what he thought was right. Sheepishly looking down at his tired scuffed shoes, Mr. Amos agreed he should load-up and go with his son. Hearing it my heart broke. My granddad paid him in full, even though the job wasn’t completed, then they drove away. I was highly disturbed. Tears rolled down my freckled cheeks at what I had witnessed. That was the last time I saw Mr. Amos after knowing him through 9-10 years of my childhood.
I had a friend like Billy, as well as a man of grit and heart like Mr. Amos for one reason. Early on my mom had coded within me, from the days of Mr. Amos, to love all people, regardless of their skin hues. As a little one, she read the words of Jesus to me at bedtime where He taught what she preached to me. What she didn’t teach at the time was the perspectives and inward struggles some possess, like the son of Mr. Amos.
Still, I came away from my experiences at Dillingham with a chip on my shoulder, combined with an unjustified angst against black people. In fact, the realities left me unwilling to trust African Americans for many years throughout much of the 1970’s until I got the chance to work and worship alongside African Americans from 1979 and onward.
In these days where racial slurs, alongside accusations of racism, are being tossed around like confetti, there’s a warning for us all. When young men soak up vile, filthy hatred from certain websites, or chat rooms brainwashing them to the point of mass murdering another race due to their ethnicity alone, we should take note. Words are like bullets. Enough of them, combined with a deadly spin, will and do rip open the hearts of our youth. Good parenting is so vital. Compassionate parenting is so vital. Informative parenting is so vital. So often these word-projectiles reverberate through the rooms of the home for little ears to plant in the fertile soil of their souls. Each and every community and culture should surgically remove attitudes of hate-filled, damning speech about our neighbors. If not, the next generation will see domestic death, domestic destruction and possibly war. There is a desensitizing which is slow, like marinating a pork loin. Sleeping with the pigs will make you muddy. And oh, how dark that mud can be.
If you dare, journey with me for a moment on the following hypothetical.
If one leans toward Darwinism, and sees another race as beneath their own DNA, then one must ask how it got to such a point. If we, collectively, all derived from an ancient amoeba, which washed up on a beach in ions past, then how can one defend a racial ideology? Maybe the ancient amoeba community rioted against other amoeba of a different thickness of cell wall. Then again, can an amoeba possess hate? Unfortunately, hate is branded in humankind exclusively. There’s a reason for that. Follow me on this.
As we continue to search for the “Missing Link” (still missing), there’s a newer, more popular theory.
If one leans toward the newer idea that humanity was placed here by ancient aliens from another planet, there’s even a bigger leap to make. I suppose it’s plausible ancient aliens also suffered from racism, implanting that curse on the earth as we were left here to populate the world. It would also seem plausible that such an advance interstellar civilization would’ve been cautious to populate the earth with beings like themselves, assuring racism wouldn’t be introduced. If the theory is accurate, then wouldn’t it make sense they would sprout beings which reflected a visual likeness? If so, why do have racial issues at all?
If you come from a biblical world view, as I do, then how can I ever hold to a twisted view of racial hatred? Since I am a creationist, I read and study the account where we were all created in the image of God, a likeness of the Divine. Therefore, how could I ever look at a black, brown, yellow, or red man or woman crying, “Moron!”, “Mistake!”“Mutant” or “Monstrosity!” Racism dictates that you have cheap blood and I do not. But, I’ll take your kidney, or a transfusion if I need one. Cheap? Really? For me, scripture reveals we all came from a set of flesh and blood ancient parents who had a multitude of offspring, and so on. Genesis has the genealogy listed covering about a two thousand year span complete with names, nations and seasons of geology. Even DNA experts have found the evidence which mirrors this view. Within the last few years DNA studies have shown we come from the same part of the world with ancestry funneling into a clan going back to the beginnings of life itself, matching the Genesis timeline. So, why do we, or why should we have this scent of racism?
Let’s be super honest here. I like to call balls and strikes as I see them.
Racism, at its core, is the belief in a lie. Yep, we’ve been snookered.
“…Mmm, no no Lyin’ to the races Help me, come on, come on Somebody, help me now (I’ll take you there)…” (1972) “I’ll Take You There” by: The Staple Singers
Moreover, racism is an ideology which dictates thoughts of I, me and myself am to reign over another due to my skin pigmentation. The lie woos one to beliefs like; if one is darker, or lighter skinned than I, then that person is to be subordinate to me, simply due to color. It even can get down to the shape of a skull, or the nose. Racism methodically massages the mind and heart of the pre-white supremacist, for example, who will claim God made a mistake by creating black, brown, yellow, and red skin. Unfortunately, even shades of skin tones are targets of racial darts. In addition, let’s not forget the racism within the color spectrum itself. English vs Celts, Anglo Gentiles vs Jews, African tribes vs other African tribes, the list goes on. Furthermore, it revels in the false idea which says a particular race was created to be supreme over all peoples, nations, societies and cultures. If one hears it enough, studies it enough, sniffs the belly of the dragon enough, the ideology is perceived as authentic. Just as evil thoughts grow and widen, hatred begins to fester like Multiple Myeloma which eats away at the bones. Racism eats away at the very soul of a person.
Are you still with me? Can I go a step further?
Let’s say you are one who believes in the afterlife. Maybe it’s a belief that the spirit, once separated from its body, roams the earth as a ghostly individual, for whatever purpose. If you were a racist in the flesh, how do you exercise racism in the spirit world? When there’s a failure to control the body in life, how then do we expect to control and navigate our spirits? Interesting thought. Are we suddenly stronger and wiser in spirit than we were when we had flesh? After death the skin, once proudly admired as a trophy in life, grows pale and decays, falling away from the skeleton, which is the same color as all skeletons. So now, in spirit form, how do you rant and rave over other spirits who have no skin color? In spirit form, racism is also dead. Suddenly, racist views are no longer so important. In the end, the 79 year old racist can look back on his/her earthly life and will see the damning foolishness of a faulty ideology.
Let’s say you have a biblical perspective of the afterlife. In the place described so well in scripture as heaven, there are a number of problems if racism is to continue. First, God says haters (which includes racist users) will not see the kingdom of heaven. Secondly, in this present age, there is the spiritual form left after the body fails. How, as an eternal racist, do you push back on another spirit residing in God’s Kingdom? Thirdly, the ancient text is clear on the following. There will come a time in eternity when the old earthly body will be recreated to reunite with the spirit in which it once belonged, much like the resurrection of Jesus. God does the recreation at His sovereign will. Colors or not, He will do what He plans. Whatever skin color, if any at all, is resurrected in God’s timeline. At that point, how could hatred of it exist? Fourthly, in heaven there is no spirit who will submit to another based on color of robe, earthly ethnicity, or thought. Jesus Himself said there’s only One Who reigns in heaven. All is made new in the afterlife, if with God. In Paul’s writings, he mentions that “in Christ” there is no difference in “Jew or Gentile”, “slave or free”, “male or female”, etc. THAT is God’s view of the color spectrum of the souls He created and saw it to be good. Racism is NOT eternal. What does that tell us about the perceived value and validation of racial disharmony in life today?
Racism will always be with us. The seed is there in this imperfect world. It was introduced by God’s adversary early in human history to distort the mind’s view of every created race. It is the management of it which must be priority. If the lion is not tamed, it will eat the foolish ringmaster.
The shooter in El Paso, Texas believed a racial lie. In his manifesto he wrote of multiple issues which pushed him over the edge like, plastic in the oceans, immigration flow, economics, eco-system, etc. But, in the end, his frustrations were decidedly poured out over helpless Hispanics with intention. The shooter in Dayton, OH and the shooter at the Garlic Festival in Gilroy, California were driven by hate, even though it appears not to be racially motivated. As a result, many were brutally murdered and maimed. It’s a seeded lie laced by the enemy of the human brotherhood of soul and spirit. Police in Gilroy reported the shooter there wore a clown mask. Appropriate, don’t you think?
Please accept this warning. Those who ricochet darts coming from the mouths of haters, is a very dangerous thing. Wars have been launched for far less. Unfortunately many like the shooters of El Paso, Dayton, and Gilroy are weak-minded, easily influenced, or simply mentally ill. They are like a weed bending to a dark wind from whichever direction. The result is, “I AM DOMINATE!” For some, all it will take is a spewing of hate-filled venom to cause the voices to ring violence in their minds. Once it takes hold, it is like the gravity of opium to the offender. If it’s not an assault rifle, it will be a bomb, a poison, a chemical, a blade, a flip of a rail switch, a van, a bus, a truck, a water bottle full of gasoline, etc.
Love, compassion, and understanding will always been the answer. In fact, love is the basis found in fuel for the race.
“You’re familiar with the command to the ancients, ‘Do not murder.’ I’m telling you that anyone who is so much as angry with a brother or sister is guilty of murder. Carelessly call a brother ‘idiot!’ and you just might find yourself hauled into court. Thoughtlessly yell ‘stupid!’ at a sister and you are on the brink of hellfire. The simple moral fact is that words kill. – Jesus – Matthew 5:21-22 (MSG Version)
“I don’t know why nobody told you how to unfold your love. I don’t know how someone controlled you. They bought and sold you. I look at the world and I notice it’s turning while my guitar gently weeps. With every mistake we must surely be learning. Still my guitar gently weeps…” While My Guitar Gently Weeps (1968). Recorded by: The Beatles. Composer: George Harrison
A friend of mine took the cover shot above for a Facebook post. Like her, I immediately saw the humor. For many who are against fast food, as it bashes decent dietary habits, this is the perfect photo to get on a soapbox and rage away. Once again I laughed thinking about an old friend of mine who never cleaned out his car. Whenever I hopped in his Triumph TR6, I first had to push over all the old fast food wrappers, along with the burger boxes, just to sit. Then, my feet found a place to rest on top of more take-out sacks and such. The trunk was even worse. There’s a somewhat faded memory of a cousin who would finish his burrito while driving his pick-up. After he finished, without a miss, he would toss the wrapper and sack in the bed of the truck behind him where it found company with dozens of other discarded items. Here, in the photo above, at least as you order from the outdoor menu, you could throw-away yesterday’s take-out trash at the same time. However, wherever you go, you’ll find garbage.
Trash in – trash out.
I needed a chuckle this week. Watching the news sank my spirit. How about you? I’ve been thinking about how you must be feeling.
God bless the citizens of Christchurch, New Zealand. Here we are, yet another senseless mass slaughter. Dozens of worshipers, men, women, and children, in two different mosques were killed and severely injured. As often the case, the evil-doer had posted a lengthy manifesto. It was filled with hatred for other races, and those practicing various religious faiths across the planet. If you’ve been living in a cave this week, you might be unaware that this corrupted heart, this darkened soul, found forethought to wear a body camera to live stream his ethnic cleansing event for the world to see on social media. Millions have seen the tragedy from his viewpoint. In the shredding of lives, he somehow survived, as if protected.
Oh, and should I mention the thousands of Christians in Nigeria which have been slaughtered by Muslim extremists all within the last year? It is still going on. Yes, it’s true. Interestingly enough, it is being reported the victims are mostly women and children in this case. Very much like a Nazi military doctrine, the idea is to eliminate reproduction of Christian families in that small nation. For some reason very few news outlets cover the genocide there. Millions of Christians and Muslims are in concentration camps in China right now. China calls them “Reeducation centers”. Honestly, I am barely touching the surface of the topic. There’s so much more to report concerning hatred on wheels.
Thousands of thoughts run through my mind as I write this. Frankly, the old man in me wants revenge for the bloodshed of the innocent ones taken from us. The heart is a tool of great unselfish love…and unthinkable evil destruction. Washing over me are the biblical words of God, “Vengeance is mine”.
Hearing how the evil one in New Zealand strapped on his camera, along with admiring other mass murderers of note, and his total disregard for life itself, with the exception of his own, I can only imagine one of his goals. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out other fools like him will follow suit. With the 17 minutes of squashing human life from his camera, looking very much like a violent video game, a huge population of sick kids will use it for their video gaming, with their faces pressed against computer screens. Already the video has been reproduced for sinister marketeers. God help us all.
The investigation into this 28 year old mass murderer is underway. When all the facts come out, no doubt there will be found violent gaming in his little darkened cave. Along with other vicious videos, there will also be tons of extreme violent movies, authentic death-lovers videos, and celebrated ghoulish websites. Oh, yeah. They exist.
Here’s what trash in the mind will do for you.
Photo: Huffington Post
When diving deep into the garbage evil sets up, soon one can discover entanglement with the refuse once admired from a distance. Once it sticks to the pursuer, as it wraps its claws around the mind, it actually distorts who the fantasizer was created to be. It disfigures the one pursuing. Truly an assault on the Creator Himself. Trash in – Trash out.
We are like trash receptacles. How we act-out all depends on what we toss into ourselves. We are what we consume.
Make no mistake about it. The process works like this. First there is a single thought. That thought is allowed, given permission, to enter the storage of the mind where fantasy breeds. The imagination of the mind is sparked by the thought, which came from outside of one’s self, and begins to choose to feed on the thought. A sense of pleasure hatches from the fantasy, and it is entertained if allowed to fester by lingering. Soon, the hatching is not a single hatch at all, but rather hatchlings, like infant snakes, or parasites. As they swim through the bloodstream of the heart and soul, only untried action is left to perform, as it hunts for an ascension to satisfy the urge implanted in the core of a pre-criminal. The seedling of a thought allowed to nestle ends up overwhelming the will. Hate is very much like a serpent crawling out of its shell. It can, and will, only grow. It is covert, camouflaged, and quick.
It’s times like these when people in the world, who feel intelligent when stating there is no “evil”, only bad decisions, need to reevaluate their belief system. My recommendation is Jesus, the Judge, the Destroyer of evil. In scripture, recording the life of Christ, agents of evil feared Him, even asking permission to escape from His immediate vicinity. I love reading those accounts.
Please, if you dabble in violent video gaming, or you have a child who does, RUN FROM IT! Soaking in it will distort the view of life, love, and our fellowman. Visuals are a tool to burn, to etch, to brand images in the mind where nothing can be reversed. One cannot “unsee” these images.
Think well on a passage from the writings of Catherine of Genoa from the late 1400’s.
“…I have given the keys of my house to Love with permission to do all that is necessary.” – From: Life and Teachings
Dregs in the tank can be burned away with fuel for the race.
“Finally brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable – if there is any moral excellence and if there is anything praiseworthy – dwell on these things.” St. Paul, Philippians 4:8 (CSB)
“I’m so tired but I can’t sleep. Standing on the edge of something much too deep. It’s funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word. We are screaming inside, but we can’t be heard. I will remember you. Will you remember me? Don’t let your life pass you by. Weep not for the memories.” – (1993) Recorded By: Sarah McLachlan, Composers: Sarah McLachlan, Seamus Michael Egan, L. Merenda David.
Try to wrap your arms around this hypothetical. You come home, greeted by your family, from a long hard day at work. Suddenly, without warning, several armed soldiers knock down your front door, carrying you and your family away as they torch your house. You march down the street under armed threat, with a bayonet at your back, to a dark path ahead. Why? Because you are of a certain ethnic community. Soon, your spouse, your grandmother, your son and daughters are torn away from you by force, at a train depot, as your loved ones scream your name, reaching out into the air for you. You see your family shoved like cattle into a crammed train car. The large sliding door slamming shut with an ominous clang that seems to echo for decades to come. They are never heard from again. If you’re like me, it is almost impossible to imagine.
How can one say, “Happy Yom Hashoah!”? How does one go to a Holocaust museum in the United States this past week and shout out, “Happy Holocaust Remembrance Day!”? The short answer is, you don’t. As soon as the words are released from your mouth into the air, you tend to get chills. If not, you may be one of the ones listed below.
A new survey was released, by the Conference on Jewish Material Claims Against Germany, showing a troubling truth in our society. The poll shows 41% (One statistic says 66%) of Americans don’t know what Auschwitz was about, including two-thirds of Millennials which had not even heard of the Holocaust. Furthermore, 41% of Millennials thought only 2 million, or fewer, Jews were murdered during the Holocaust.
Some might not recall who the Maccabees were before the first century, and that is understandable to the average Gentile. Even so, if you ask Siri to show you info on the Maccabees, she first brings up the British rock band, which formed in 2004, with the same title, NOT the Maccabee revolt resulting in the celebration of the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah. How sad. My point is, the Holocaust was ONLY 74-79 years ago. What a travesty for today’s culture, university curriculum and public education system. The sheer ignorance of the Holocaust tells the tale. It seems the world and its manipulators have a gigantic eraser and are willing to use it. (And they wonder why home schooling and private schools are gaining ground.)
The first children’s book my mom allowed me to choose and purchase (I believe I was in 4th grade) was about a French schoolhouse full of Jewish children, who hid in a cave when a Nazi patrol raided the school. It was a stirring true story where the author drew the young reader into knowing the Jewish kids by name, their favorite toys and personalities. Like a great wordsmith, the author helped me understand these Jewish kids were just like me in so many ways, with similar interests, with the love of school, recess and playtime. That was my very first introduction to the insanity of Nazi Germany.
The second week of April is a solemn week set aside to remember the 6 million Jews who were mercilessly slaughtered by the Nazis in WWII. Make no mistake, these were not Jewish soldiers with tanks, jets and platoons. The 6 million Jews were women, children, babies, men, poor, rich, young and old, healthy, unhealthy, all with Jewish DNA.
I am a Gentile with many Jewish friends. Some can tell you the names of relatives they lost in the Holocaust. One of my best friends lost an entire branch of his family in Europe at the hands of the misguided Nazis. My ex-wife’s German mother lived in Nazi Germany as a little girl. She lived near a death camp just on the outskirts of her village. Her parents, as well as the other adults in this village, lived with the stench of death in the air. They saw the ashes, ashes that once were store owners, musicians, artists, bakers, nurses, doctors, 1st graders and teachers, floating down from the camp smokestacks, resting like snow on the car windshields and rooftops. Yet, most citizens claim they knew nothing. Most claim they had no idea what was happening to all their Jewish neighbors behind the camp gates. Certainly, it very well could’ve been true for some, but not all. Shame is heavy. Guilt is even heavier. Most testify they were following the Fuhrer’s lead for a coming euphoric Germany. In my ex-wife’s case, her great-uncle served in the SS as an interpreter. Yet, the family stated they knew nothing.
As I remembered the world’s loss from the 1940s, I also wept for joy for the scores of courageous accounts the Holocaust survivors have told the nations. Certain Jewish individuals, as well as selective Gentiles, exercised nothing short of heroic acts that made a difference in saving countless lives. Their accounts are worth the research with many being the subjects of award-winning books and movies. To mention one, Janusz Korczak, the Polish-Jewish educator and orphanage director, who protected the Jewish children in his care from the Nazi invasion. He shielded them at every turn with wit, creativity, humor and misdirection. At the orphanage’s highest population, 150 children were under his umbrella. He kept their spirits up in the deadly face of the brutality around them. In fact, as he and the orphans under his wing were marched to the loaded train cars for transportation to the death camp, he was given the choice to safely stay in Poland, if he would sign a document claiming himself to be Gentile. But, when he was told, by the German officer in charge, the children were to be exterminated, he refused to sign, staying with the orphans all the way to the gas chambers. There’s also the pockets of brave Jewish resistance scattered throughout Europe: Anne Frank’s family and their Gentile caregivers, Schindler and his list, Corrie Ten Boom and so many more to remember, to cherish. Of course, hard to watch documentaries on the years of the Holocaust, with authentic horrific film footage, are also highly recommended. But, be prepared for the senseless, cruel executions, putrid piles of bodies and mass graves.
Today, there is a raging danger being ignored by our own society. Hitler began by using fake news to demonize a community of people. He began to paint a false picture of who they were and what they were. It was repeated, this twisted disgusting false view, over and over again, complete with distorted tales, photos and artwork, until the masses began to believe the Nazi narrative. A mass delusion took hold, growing like cancer. Soon, Germans were hating their Jewish neighbors, resulting in harsh words and slurs, as a beginning. The Jewish voice was suddenly silenced in the public square, along with free Jewish press being destroyed. Businesses, owned by Jewish families, were marked on the windows with the Star of David, identifying them as a sub-human race. Armbands and sown patches of a yellow Star of David were forced on their clothing for easy identification. Abandonment, robbery, torture, starvation and death followed the craze. It takes a strong stomach to hear the details of what was done to these innocent citizens. All that to say, when a group of people decide they are superior to another group of people, that is the launch of nightmares to come, if left to fester. In fact, it is the genesis of becoming inhuman. It’s truly a lack of humanity to turn a blind eye to suffering and brutality. We are not immune to this pattern. I fear we have yet to learn.
Lest we forget.
“…We remember what happens when hate takes hold of the human heart and turns it to stone; what happens when victims cry for help and there is no one listening; what happens when humanity fails to recognize that those who are not in our image are none the less in God’s image…” – Yom Hashoah Prayer – Rabbi Lord Sacks – April 4, 2013
While running on fuel for the race, you can’t help but shout….Never again!
Ezekiel didn’t understand what the valley full of bones meant, but God knew we would, thousands of years after the writings below.
“The hand of the Lord was on me, and He brought me out by the Spirit of the Lord and set me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. He asked me, ‘Son of man, can these bones live?’ I said, ‘Sovereign Lord, you alone know.'” – Ezekiel 37:1-3 (NIV)
Now, 5 Million Jews live in Israel.In anticipation of May 14, 2018, Israel Independence Day, the friends of Israel look forward to the 70th anniversary of Israel of becoming a nation on their ancient soil. A feat no other nation that has been scattered, shredded, enslaved, beaten and almost annihilated over the last 2,000 years can claim.
“…so he shot down the congregation.” – “Smackwater Jack” -Carole King/Gerry Goffin. From her Tapestry album, 1971.
Once again, here we are. No words…well, not many. Truly stunned about our new normal. It’s interesting how when Carole King recorded “Smackwater Jack”, about a crazed man juiced up on his anger at others, rendering himself to only mass murder on his mind, it was considered a fantasy lyric. Check out the first verse.
“Now, Smackwater Jack, he bought a shotgun. ‘Cause he was in the mood for a little confrontation. He just let it all hang loose; He didn’t think about the noose. He couldn’t take no more abuse so he shot down the congregation.”
The song was to be somewhat of a shock factor because that just didn’t happen in those days. It was the stuff of movie scripts and shock-value songs. But not anymore. Check out American history. These current events are missing in the track record of American citizenry. If you do find a similar crime in the yellowed pages of America, it is a rare occurrence.
TRUTH: The days are hideously showing the rise of evil hearts calloused and seared from desensitization.
In almost every instance, at least to my recollection, almost every perpetrator’s (each mass shooter, bomber, vehicular homicidal maniac) life has ended soon after or during the horrific act. The murderer becomes the next occupier on the cold metal morgue slab. Let me say, to those who are of atheistic mindsets, each one of these monsters adds to the truths of scripture.
” ‘Put your sword back in its place,’ Jesus said to him. ‘For all who draw the sword will die by the sword.’ ” – Matthew 26:52 (NIV)
The last time I wrote of homicidal maniacs, homegrown or otherwise, was just about a month ago. (See my post from Oct 3rd, “A Choice In Vegas”.)
Say what you will, but I call this “EVIL.” Some call it a “Gun Owner.” I would agree if not for the majority of good, solid and righteous thinking citizens who own guns who would never murder their neighbor. So, allow me to point to another biblical truth concerning this topic.
“He said to them, ‘But now let the one who has a moneybag take it, and likewise a knapsack. And let the one who has no sword sell his cloak and buy one.’ ” – Jesus – Recorded in Luke 22:36 (ESV)
Did you catch the significance as Jesus was advising His disciples what to take with them on their missionary journeys? I think the huge phrase is found in the last sentence of the verse. Notice how Jesus thought the cloak was less urgent than the sword. In-other-words, “you might be cold on the road, but that sidearm is worth it.” (Alan’s paraphrase)
I sing in two different church bands at two different locations on two different days. Both are small-medium congregations (below 200 people). In both, there are security plans to protect the congregation from walk-in violence. Because it is of a tactical covert design, I will stop there at its description. However, Sheepdog Church Security is an organization well worth looking into for congregational protection. It’s not rocket science, but it does take sincere planning. I know of a pastor in Iowa who once told me the following, “It’s not just the Bible I’m packing when I walk up to the pulpit.”
There should be no more, “Eh, it’ll never happen here.” Or, “We’re too small of a congregation to worry about that big city stuff.” Or, “We don’t need any of that mega-church planning. The Lord watches over His small flock here.” YES, the Lord never sleeps, however, the Lord Himself said, “sell your cloak and buy a sword.” Why? Simply put, the roads from village to village were laced with waiting thieves and murderers. (Barabbas was one of them.) Jesus was instructing them to be ready with a sidearm for such dangerous times, for defense only. Plus, there were aggressive theological zealots who were eager to kill Jesus and His followers early on.
As true with most terroristic murderers, domestic or foreign, all are without God and God’s Spirit who directs, conducts and trains. Biblically, we are to recognize them by their fruit. If the fruit is rotten, so are the trees’s roots. These wolves plan for destruction either through false doctrine or ideology or physical violence. If you describe yourself as one who holds to no faith, consider yourself, also, in the cross-hairs. If you are under the flag of freedom, liberty and justice for all, you too are a target. (IE: Las Vegas, Oct 1, 2017, a Christmas office party in San Bernardino, a school in Columbine, a baseball practice in Washington DC, or a dance club in Orlando, etc.) If the beautiful sanctity of a small town Baptist church in the heart of Texas, where babies and elderly are worshiping, singing and praying on a Sunday morning is disrupted by a mass shooter from the next county, then you, whoever you are, will be vulnerable as well.
“The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.” – Jesus – Recorded in John 10:10 (NKJV)
I had a weekly radio talk show many years ago. Shortly after Sept 11, 2001, one of my guests was a local FBI agent who was a special op team member of investigators focusing on terrorism. His message was extremely clear. Be diligent. Be a busybody. Notice out of place scenes, people or objects. Report what you see, even if it seems insignificant. You can always remain anonymous.
Unfortunately, we also have witnessed radical Jihadists doing their hellish work for some time, attacking Christian congregations and the clergy in the middle-east and now in Europe. Whether the chosen form is a rental truck, sword, knife, bomb or bullets, it is the sin-sick heart that kills.
There may come a time when little old ladies heading into church will be carrying their Bibles in one hand and a .357 magnum in the other. Maybe we’re already there. But for today, I carry, but not conceal, a tank of fuel for the race.
“For then there will be great distress, unequaled from the beginning of the world until now – and never to be equaled again.” – Jesus – Recorded in Matthew 24:21 (NIV)