Battle Fatigue From the Start

Trump was elected two weeks ago. I've been pretty quiet since then. The loud cacophony of voices filling the last two weeks rendered my tired voice pretty useless, I felt. I'm weary of the whole thing. In fact, I'm probably going to take a December fast from social media. (The fact that I'm not sure I can even do that shows me that I desperately need to do it.)

But before I go, I'll say a few words -- to those who voted with me. Whether you voted with enthusiasm or, like I did, with heartache.

The temptation may be to breathe a sigh of relief. "Now the nation is safe from those dastardly liberals wanting to impose their socialist, atheistic agenda on us. We're good. The battle's over."

Not a chance, cupcake. The battle is just starting.

We should take no pride in this victory. We put a man in office who has a very good chance of shaming his position and shaming the country.

"But . . but Hillary . . . but . . . " Oh, hush. She's out of the picture. Now we have to deal with the abominable mess that we created when we decided to play games with the political process during the Republican primaries. He's there, he's got potential for MANY problems, and we're the ones who have to stop them.

First, acknowledge the fear that marginalized groups feel in this country. Yes, it feels to us like it's over-the-top (like the black boy my pastor encountered the day before the election who had been told that if Trump were elected, all the black men would get put in jail -- ??!?!!?). But honestly, it's no more over-the-top than the rhetoric we would have heard about the country turning into Cuba if Clinton had won.

The man has said and done some atrocious things. Don't defend or belittle them. Don't give them cause to think he represents us in that. Acknowledge the atrocity of it, and stand firm that freedom still reigns in this country because the people make it so, no matter who is the president. The people angry enough to put him in office will be angry enough to get him out if that's what it takes. Nobody needs to fear for their civil liberties on our watch.

Second, don't get all joyful about Obamacare being repealed and such. Obamacare happened because Republicans ignored the healthcare crisis for so long that the people were willing to try something radical, just so something -- SOMETHING -- was getting done. (Kind of like the exasperation that swept Trump into the White House, really.)

Repealing Obamacare will not solve anything. We've got to come up with something better. And it really has to be BETTER -- not just different. Don't get on the anything-but-Obamacare bandwagon. Make this a debate that actually leads to something good for our country.

Third, don't act like the man is a Christian and is going to protect our religious freedom. Maybe he is; maybe he isn't. God knows his heart; we only see his behavior. I see nothing in his behavior yet to give evidence of his submission to God -- much the opposite. That said, I don't think we can safely expect him to keep any promises he made during his campaign. We have to stay on our toes.

Yeah, yeah . . . he's seemed a bit more subdued and presidential the last two weeks. He also took to Twitter to make some idiotic, rash comments about the Hamilton cast's manners. Whether or not you agreed with him, the man just needed to shut up. He has bigger fish to fry. (Seriously, somebody just take his Twitter account away!! And take some of his billions and buy him some thicker skin.)

The rancor and division in this country are getting to me. I wish it wasn't. I wish I could have faith and move on. But I'm tired.

You know what I want? I want both sides to sit down and be quiet for a while. I want both sides to admit that those who disagree with them are not necessarily evil incarnate. I want people to start looking for what we can agree on and working toward that. Compromise. Peace.

I also want to weigh what I did when I got married. I have no optimism for either prospect. Just pass me the caramel popcorn and turn off my Facebook account.

War? What War?

Yeah, maybe there's something wrong with me.

When Obama officially became the Democratic presidential candidate in 2008, I remember thinking that, although I didn't want him to be president because I disagreed with him on so many things, it was a pretty cool thing that a black man was on a major party ticket. And on the day of his inauguration, I got a bit choked up at the meaning of the historical moment. A black president!

Last night was historical, too. Historical in a way that directly affected me more, since I'm a woman. But I wasn't fazed. Maybe if Hillary is inaugurated, I'll get emotional about it at that point, but I kind of doubt it. And I don't think it's a factor of disagreeing with her politics. Because again, I disagreed just as much with Obama's. I just can't get excited about a female presidential candidate. Seriously -- it means nothing.

I don't quite understand myself. "Women's rights" just isn't an issue that resonates with me. I don't at all feel like a victim in any kind of war on women.

It's not that I don't think women should get paid equally. It's not that I don't have a problem with cultures that treat women as property. I get that there are all sorts of injustices happening to women around the globe, and something should be done about them.

But . . . I don't know. I can't get myself riled up or excited about it.

Maybe it's because I don't think it ever once occurred to me in my life that I couldn't be president if I wanted to just because I'm a woman. I don't think there has ever been anything that I wanted to do that I haven't been able to do because I'm a woman (other than, you know, lift heavy objects . . . and that's not really because I'm a woman: that's because I'm a wimpy woman).

Maybe it's because my mother was never a big women's rights person. I don't remember her ever discussing it at all. She was a very contented homemaker and probably never felt held back by her gender either. But I'm also quite sure she was one of the ones encouraging me there was nothing I couldn't do in my life. As if gender just wasn't an issue -- not that it was an issue we now had victory over.

Maybe it's because, while I have experienced (not personally) blatant racism in my life, I have not experienced or even witnessed blatant misogyny. But I have certainly heard females cry "misogyny" when I thought the charge was quite unwarranted. (Of course, I've heard unwarranted cries of racism as well, I guess. I think it's sometimes easier to believe there's injustice in the way you've been treated than to believe that you yourself were somehow at fault or inadequate.)

I don't know. I don't get myself. I felt no swell of pride or relief or joy at the idea of a woman heading a major party ticket last night. I heard no glass ceiling shatter. I never saw a ceiling. I don't think I was looking up there -- I was busy looking elsewhere, I guess. Maybe someone will say I'm not ambitious enough. I think I just figure that God builds my house; he designs the layout, determines the number of bedrooms, and sets the heights of my ceilings. And He builds our houses to individual specs, based on the work He has for each of us. My ceiling is where it needs to be to do the work He has for me to do.

Too simplistic? Too lethargic? Maybe. But there's something to be said for contentment.

So while I'm wondering about myself today, I have to say that I'm not that bothered by my reaction -- or lack of reaction. I'm mostly concerned what I might be communicating to my daughters. Should I be worried that my lethargy on the matter is a negative quality that they will pick up from me and that will be a detriment to them for the rest of their lives? Am I hurting them in some way by not instilling them with a pride in their gender and in how far their gender has come in our society and a determination to move their gender further?

I don't think so. I think they have a pretty healthy view of gender. It matters where it matters, and it doesn't where it doesn't.

And in politics, we don't think it matters.

On Hope and Wisdom and Fathers

My father was a deeply intellectual and profoundly faithful Christian man. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease when I was twelve . . . retired from teaching when I was fifteen . . . was in a nursing home when I was twenty-one.

Which means that by the time I was old enough to recognize the wisdom I wanted to glean from him, it was no longer there for the gleaning.

This has been a regret of mine. I have several times over the years mourned the lost lessons I could have learned from my father. This week is one of those times. Today, I wish I could ask my father this question:

How do you maintain hope?

My father had very high expectations and strict morals. I remember him telling me, with disgust, about the students in his college years who attended school dances -- such things were quite inappropriate, in his mind. I can only imagine the horror he felt at the moral decay he saw happening as a professor on his college campus during the 60s.

He was a naval officer in the Pacific in World War II. I can only imagine the frustration he felt at the anti-war protests of the 60s and 70s.

And I specifically remember his spitting out the label "crook"  when referring to Richard Nixon.

Between the sexual revolution, government corruption, civil rights violence, and Vietnam, it had to feel to him like the country was imploding. Going to hell in a handbasket.

Just like it feels to me now.

How do you maintain hope, Dad?

Intellectually, I can know God is in control. I can know that the country has been through worse and survived. I can know that God's plan and purpose are bigger than our country.

But I'm tired of feeling sad and hopeless.

Did Dad feel like God was judging the nation, like I feel? Did he cry out to God for mercy for a people who never deserved the grace He has shown them, like I do? Did he sit and think that there must be something to be done . . . something he could do . . . some answer to the crises . . . and feel lost when no answer came to him but pray, love, pray, speak truth, pray, pray, pray . . .

. . . like I do?

We need wise fathers today. Wise mothers. God grant us mercy, and grant us wise fathers and mothers. And grants us ears to hear them.

Jesus and Girly Tea

There is a pile of little girly things on my living room floor right now. As in little things that are very girly.

We're babysitting a little girl this week, so my daughters got out their old toys. Mini Barbies . . . mini princesses, of every type . . . mini tea sets . . . mini vanities . . . mini carriages and horses . . . and there's probably a unicorn in there somewhere.

Oh, the memories.

I miss the little girly days. I mean, I miss my daughters being little girls, but it's more than that. I miss when I was able to get lost in their world for a moment and life was all tea parties and horse rides and ball gowns and hairdos.

Cheesy as they are, I kind of miss the old kiddie shows when the good guys were all beautiful and nice and got good things in the end and the bad guys were all ugly and obvious and got their come-uppance . . . or saw the light and switched sides.

Bad guys are not always ugly and obvious. Good guys do not always win, at least in this life.

Our world is so broken. Humanity is so broken.

It makes me tired.

I might have, at one time, said that it makes me depressed. But I have learned over years of dealing with my own particular brand of neurosis that many of my emotional problems are a result of mislabeling. I have physiological feelings in my body that mimic what we feel when we're sad, and if I label them as "sadness", then I start to think about things to be sad about and get genuinely sad.

I am sad about the state of humanity, but that's not what I feel at the moment. I feel tired. I know the end of the story for our world, and there is hope for the good guys, so my sadness is tempered. But I also know there's a long, difficult road still ahead before we get there, so my tiredness is magnified.

I'm tired of fighting ignorance. I'm tired of fighting selfishness. I'm tired of fighting self-righteousness. I'm tired of fighting inaccurate depictions from others of what the stinking fight is even about.

My sleep deprivation is also a cause of the fatigue, but it only exacerbates my soul fatigue. I'm ready for rest . . . even eternal rest.

I know there are some who find it morbid and disturbing to wish for heaven and the end of the world. But when you have confidence in the justice and grace of the One who holds the end in His hands, it starts to sound very inviting. I want the brokenness healed, and I know there's only one way this will happen.

Even so, come, Lord Jesus. I'm ready for a tea party with You . . . in a beautiful ball gown . . . as Your Beloved.

Really, South Carolina?

The Lord is my light and my salvation;
Whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life;
Of whom shall I be afraid?

Thus begins the 27th Psalm, which my pastor preached on yesterday and which I have memorized in the past. I was glad for reminder of the precious words in this passage last night because I have new fears as of Saturday evening.

I'm afraid of Trump being the Republican nominee for president. More than that, I fear a Trump presidency.

I'm thoroughly stunned at how this has progressed. The man infuriated me from the moment he entered the race, but my husband kept assuring me that there was no chance he would get the nomination. It just wouldn't happen. He's not that reassuring anymore.

But you know . . . I'm not so sure that my greatest fear is what will happen to the country. Frankly, I accepted the pending demise of our nation long ago. As much as it will sadden me, and as much as I will fight it, I have no doubt that the America I knew -- and certainly the America my parents knew -- will not be here for my children. And I can accept that as God's sovereign will here because I know that America is not integral to the kingdom of God. In the vast scope of eternity, America is a blip on the radar. There are far more important things than "the American dream."

No, that is not what distresses me. What distresses me is that Donald Trump won the evangelical vote in South Carolina. The church, the people of God, the body of Christ on earth looked at this arrogant, selfish, petty, vindictive, manipulative man and believed him to be worthy of the most powerful political position on the planet -- deemed him the best hope for our nation among the alternatives. What could they POSSIBLY have been thinking??

In light of the results of the primaries so far, I am less concerned about the future of America than I am about the future of the American church. Have we truly become so blind? Have we truly become so short-sighted? Have we truly become so deceived?

Because America is not the hope of the world; Christ is. And if the body of Christ on earth is thinking and behaving so abysmally, we are all quite lost.

And so I return to the 27th Psalm, grasping for hope, just as the Psalmist was. Hear my voice when I call, O Lord. Have mercy on me and answer me. . . Do not hide your face from me. . . Do not reject or forsake me. . . although we deserve it. Although we've turned from your face. Have mercy, Lord.

I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord
In the land of the living.

Wait for the Lord.

Be strong, take heart,
And wait for the Lord.

On Elections, Prayer, and William Wilberforce

My Iowa friends have been posting pictures of themselves meeting presidential candidates. 'Tis the season.

It was quite an experience living in the Hawkeye state for the 2012 caucuses. Candidates were everywhere. We simply stopped answering the phone because we got pre-recorded calls from one campaign or another all day long. By the last week, I was erasing 10-12 messages from our voicemail every night -- including the occasional one that sounded suspiciously like it might have been the actual candidate on the phone and made me kind of wish I'd picked up the receiver and asked the man a few questions.

Despite such annoyances, I liked being in Iowa for a presidential election. Frankly, it was the only time I've ever felt like my vote mattered much, like it might actually make a difference in things. But I think I'm grateful not to be there this year because I have no bloody clue who I would vote for.

I hate elections. Admittedly, I would probably hate any alternative even more; they are a necessary evil in a free society, which is where I want to live. But the process of choosing people to represent us in the government has become such an unsavory one. I despair of our being able to elect an intelligent, capable, and moral person to national office unless it just happens by accident.

For Christmas, I got Eric Metaxas' book Amazing Grace about the life of William Wilberforce, the man behind the abolition of the slave trade in Britain. Great book. Great, great book. Highly recommended.

Interesting thing about Wilberforce: he didn't become a believer until after he was pretty well established in the House of Commons. In fact, the man who eventually became the nation's moral compass was something of a moral mess when he was elected to Parliament. And it sounds like he couldn't have been elected if he had been otherwise. Parliament was so corrupt at the time, Wilberforce pretty much had to buy his way into office.

Once he met Jesus and his life turned around, he was convinced he would need to resign, that remaining in his elected position would have to be inconsistent with his new convictions. It was John Newton (former slave ship captain and author of the lyrics to the famous hymn "Amazing Grace") who convinced him that he needed to stay where he was -- that perhaps God had brought him to this place "for such a time as this." And the rest is world-changing history.

Reading about Wilberforce convicted me in so many ways. But it also changed my approach to and my attitude about elections and government.

As I said, I despair of our electing a righteous person to the office of president -- rightly or wrongly, that's where I'm at. I fear the the election process has become such that it requires things of our potential leaders that make them decidedly less than righteous, moral, or ethical.

But Wilberforce's story reminds me that God isn't hampered by that fact. God is in the life-changing business, and our elected officials are not beyond His reach. If God can change an 18th century British Parliamentarian and use him in such a mighty way, He can certainly do that with a 21st century American president.

So while I will still vote my conscience this year, hoping for a candidate that has the moral direction I want in a leader, I will not be discouraged at my lack of choices or my apparent impotence in the matter. I am not impotent. I am a pray-er. And God still uses pray-ers to move the world, perhaps even by moving the moral compasses of the ungodly people in power.

On Coughing and Praising

Although I feel like I've been blessed with generally pretty good health, I have two chronic problems that have plagued me for years. One is the sleep stuff that I'm sure you're all tired of hearing about. The second is that when I get a cold, the cough settles in my lungs and makes my life hell for weeks. Doctors have tried inhalers, all sorts of drugs . . . nothing helps. It's awful.

And after a week of a normal-person-common-cold, I have my cough again. I'm miserable. But a comment from someone in my BSF group is giving me a different perspective on it.

We studied the fourth chapter of Revelation last week. This is the first part of the vision John has, and it is all about the throne of God. The majesty of it. His awesomeness and splendor. There are living creatures and twenty-four elders (the details of all them I don't get, but it doesn't matter) surrounding His throne and worshiping Him day and night.

[Sidenote: Some people have said that heaven sounds boring, doing nothing but worshiping all day. But you know, I'm not convinced that we have nothing to do there but to stare at God and be awed by Him. I think we'll have plenty to do – scripture talks about us ruling with him (what that means exactly, I'm not sure, but it sounds pretty active). I suspect that this vision of John's is a piece of figurative imagery for us: "rejoicing in the Lord always", "praying continually" . . . that constant attitude of worship that we are called to be in even here on earth. In heaven, we won't be hindered anymore by our sinful, fleshly natures and that worship will come naturally. And won't that be wonderful?]

But back to my friend's comments. She told us how it hit her that, when the attacks happened in Paris, nobody in heaven suddenly stopped and looked and said, "Whoa, God . . . what's going on here?" No, they continued to worship – day and night, just like always. Because what happened in Paris was not a shock to anyone up there like it was to us. They know what we don't know. They see the big picture. They see what's happening on a macro-level and on a micro-level with all this chaos and tragedy and they know that it is all under God's control . . . it is all working toward His grand and glorious conclusion . . .  and they know that even in the midst of this, He is still worthy of all praise.

Now, it's not like I didn't know that in my head. But somehow, it penetrated my heart this week. And I needed that.

If God is working through even the tragedy and sin of terrorism to accomplish His will, what up with my whining about a cough? Like God isn't bigger than that? Like my irritated lung tissue is suddenly evidence of His negligence and impotence and lack of compassion? Like He clearly doesn't know what He's doing if He isn't going to stop this cough?

So, I'm coughing and praising. As best I can. Lord, I believe . . . help my unbelief.

On Paris, My President, and my Lack of Confidence

Paris. So sad. And what happened in Beirut last week is so sad, too. (How many of you even heard about Beirut? Look it up.) What's been happening in the Middle East and Europe for months. Sad, sad, sad.

But now the question is, what do we do about it. And that's the saddest part for me, because I don't trust our leaders to have the wisdom to know what to do about it.

Specifically Obama and his crew. And this isn't a political tirade nor a personal tirade against the man-- it's simply a fact about me right now. Personally, I don't have confidence in President Obama that he truly understands the nature of the situation and knows what to do to protect our country. I wish I did.

When I was studying psychological theories for my counseling degree in graduate school, I found
that I was able to divide the theories into two broad categories. On the one hand are the theories that are based in the idea that people are born good and only get messed up because of what happens to them externally. Bad parenting. Mean kids. Poverty and lack of opportunity.

On the other hand are the theories that are based in the idea that we are born with a tendency toward doing wrong and that it is only the constraints of society that keep us from really going off the deep end. External things can certainly affect us negatively as well -- bad parenting, mean kids, poverty, lack of opportunity -- but the germs of our problems were there from the beginning. Taking away the external wrongs doesn't fix the internal wrongs.

It is distressing to me how many people don't understand that the Bible is in the second camp, not the first. It is distressing to me how many Christians don't understand this. It is distressing to me how many Christians act in ways to try to improve things in the world, to build the kingdom of God, and do these things in God's name, and yet their actions are completely contrary in premise to the most basic teachings of the Bible.

And yes, this has to do with Obama and ISIS and Paris.

I have NO idea what to do about ISIS. I am profoundly grateful to not be in our President's shoes having to make decisions about the matter, and I have been praying for him (and all of our world leaders) daily for the decisions they need to make.

But as his constituent, one of the basic messages I have gotten from my President during his term in office is that the reason the world is the mess it is, is because the U.S. has been a busybody bully. We've stepped in to other people's business and forced our way on them, which has made them angry and made them act out against us. The answer is to back off, be respectful, give them the means to do the right things (which they, of course, will want to do) and all will fall into place.

This is right out of psychological theory camp number one. And it's foolish and dangerous.

Some semblance of this method might work on a one-on-one basis . . . for example, with me and a defiant student. On a national level, this is a disaster. Surely he knows this. But as a general rule, he seems to operate from an incorrect worldview, which makes me distrustful of the wisdom of his actions. I expect more disasters to come. I expect weak responses to those disasters. And in all honesty, I pray for a stronger leader in the White House very soon.

However, even if I am not confident in my President, I am confident that he is only in that office because God put him there. And I am confident that God is more in control of world affairs than my President is. Whatever tragedies or victories follow this already tragic week, they are of God's ordaining and will ultimately serve His purposes.

Somebody remind me of that truth when the next tragedy hits closer to home.

Another One About Abortion

I re-posted an article by Matt Walsh on Facebook the other day, and I really gotta stop doing that. Even when I agree with some of his basic points, his tone and attitude offend me, and I always end up being associated with them. This one had to do with Planned Parenthood and abortion, and a friend took me to task on account of it. So, even though I thought I was done with this topic, I guess I have more I need to say.

My friend contended that pro-life advocates have fought against effective strategies to reduce unwanted pregnancies. Maybe so. Other friends have argued that pro-life advocates leave these mothers hanging when they've had the babies they didn't want aborted. True sometimes, but less often than they contend. My friend believes that pro-life tactics are at least 50% responsible for abortion rate in the U.S. today. I agree that pro-life advocates have often gone about this wrongly and irresponsibly, but the 50% figure I'm not so sure about.

My friend asked me to read the story of a couple struggling with the revelation of their unborn baby having a serious medical condition. And I truly sympathized with that; as I wrote earlier, there are certainly situations that would find me wishing that abortion was a viable alternative. I don't have answers (at least, legal answers, answers outside of my faith) for those really difficult situations: rape, the life of the mother being at risk, etc.

But those are a minority of the abortions performed, maybe 15%, according to even liberal sources. The other 85% are done for other reasons: "I don't feel mature enough to raise a child . . . I don't want to be a single mother . . . I'm not ready for a child, can't afford it . . . I'm done having babies . . ." 85%.

I want to talk about that 85%. That was the group I was talking about to begin with. Abortion is too big a topic to address as a whole: I want to talk about the aspect that we SHOULD be able to agree on. That 85%.

See, although I've always believed abortion was wrong, I haven't been very outspoken about it, and I've entirely backed off of the discussion of laws regarding abortion. And I had a reason: my opposition to abortion was solely based in my religious beliefs, and I understood that the country couldn't make laws based on any one group's religious beliefs.

But the situation has changed. You don't have to be religious anymore to recognize that abortion is the destruction of a living being. I have nonreligious friends, even atheist friends, who agree with me. There is just too much information out there now to realistically believe otherwise. Yet, I have friends who apparently do believe otherwise – intelligent, thoughtful, informed, compassionate friends. And I just couldn't understand this.

Until I read another article this week entitled, "I Don't Know If I'm Pro-Choice Anymore." The author explains that he's struggled with his pro-choice stance in recent years and that the Planned Parenthood videos have just about turned him around. He says from the beginning he understood the abortion debate as "a tug-of-war between competing rights—those of the mother versus those of an unborn baby" – and yes, that's exactly what it is.

Then he said this: "I sided with the mother. And I tried not to think about the baby."

Aha.

That's it – that has to be it. That's the only explanation that makes sense to me. My pro-choice friends are compassionate people. They fight for the underprivileged, the oppressed, the helpless. They see women in desperate, heart-breaking situations, and they hurt for them. They "side with the mother" . . . and they try not to think about the baby.

May I remind you of citizens in the Nazi regime who enjoyed the resurgence of their nation, the growth of their economy, the stability of their communities, the new pride in their country . . . and tried not to think about the Jews.

And of early 19^th century Americans who benefited from the cheap cotton products made possible by the beautiful, well-ordered plantations run by their Christian brothers and sisters in the south . . . and tried not to think about the Negros.

Folks, I contend that we don't have the luxury anymore of not thinking about the babies, because their plight is obvious, it is horrific, and it is in our faces. There is medical information and research – there are ultrasounds, pictures, videos – there are testimonies of mothers, medical practitioners, people involved in every aspect of the birth and/or abortion industries. It's one thing if you're a teenage girl with your head in the sand not thinking further than your next crush and your weekend's entertainment. But my friends are not teenage girls; they are intelligent, informed, thoughtful, compassionate adults. And to be such a person and not recognize the nature of a fetus in the womb and what is happening to it during an abortion . . . well, I'm sorry if I offend someone I love, but I can't escape this conclusion: that seems to require a willful choice to ignore this particular category of the innocent and helpless. To try hard to not think about the baby. I recognize that if you are enmeshed in the pro-choice movement, that choice may be made easy for you by the limited amount of information you are exposed to. Nevertheless, these are lives we're talking about. If that choice is not immoral, it is certainly irresponsible.

But the truth is, I want to believe that my friends are guilty of this irresponsibility; the alternative is worse. Are you telling me that you have come to grips with what an abortion truly is, and you still support it as a valid, legal choice? You have no problem with a woman ending the life of the child in her womb for one of the reasons of the 85% given above? "I'm done having children, so I'll end the life of this one." "I don't think I am ready to be a mother, so I'll end the life of this child." (Consider, as I wrote before, what those words would sound like if spoken just after the baby leaves the womb.) You have no problem with our country having laws in place that not only make this legal, but strive to make it as easy and painless as possible for mothers to make such a decision? Really, my friends? Because if that's you . . . well, please, don't tell me so. It may affect what I think about your character, and I just don't want to believe such things of my friends.

You do understand, I hope, that "siding with the baby" does NOT have to mean siding against the mother? Not with this 85%. One thing we have learned in the last forty years is that the choice to abort is not without dramatic consequence to the mother who makes it. There is a huge wake of psychological, emotional, and even physical damage as evidence. Despite what you think, pro-lifers are very concerned about the welfare of the mother; for many, it was the heartache of the mothers that convinced them this practice had to stop. There are solutions to these desperate situations that are in the best interest of both the mother and the child. Can't we all be on the side of both?

I'm not smart enough to offer any answers for the difficult 15%. But this 85% -- this should be a no-brainer. We should all be able to agree on this. It grieves my heart that we don't.

The One About Abortion

This is a long post, and it's a post I don't want to write. I have some friends that I'm pretty sure will tear me up – some politely and gently, some a bit more viciously. But being a believer means doing what God calls you do to even if it gets you torn up, so here I go. Folks, we need to talk about abortion.

I had a friend in high school who worked for many years at George Tiller's clinic. When we re-connected later on Facebook, we had a very civil discussion on the topic. Interestingly enough, she said she usually respected the people who peacefully protested at the clinic (key word, of course: peacefully); they had every right to try to persuade people to agree with their opinion of when life begins, she said.

Because we both agreed that the whole issue really hinges on the question of when, precisely, life begins. If life begins at conception, there is no doubt that abortion is wrong. On the other hand, if life doesn't begin until the fetus leaves the womb, abortion might be legally justified. And if life begins at some vague, arbitrary point in the gestation period . . . which is apparently what most Americans believe these days . . . well, that makes it all awfully fuzzy.

But deciding when a fetus is "alive" is the key to the whole argument. If you believe the fetus is alive, I'm not sure how you can give any justification for ending that life. All the reasons given to justify an abortion immediately cease to apply once the baby leaves the womb and everybody agrees that it is now "alive". Consider:

If the baby is born with some defect or medical condition that wasn't previously detected, nobody argues that it is now, after birth, okay to end that baby's life. If a new mother in a hospital suddenly decides that she isn't qualified or prepared to raise a baby, nobody would argue that it is okay to end that baby's life now, after birth. If a newborn could, in some way, put the life of its mother in danger, nobody would argue that it is okay to just kill the baby to spare the mother, once it's already born. If some terrible tragedy happened in the course of the delivery and that baby will now be a daily reminder to the mother of this trauma in her life, nobody would argue that it is okay to end that baby's life, after its birth, to spare the mother her emotional struggle.  Nobody argues that, because a newborn baby cannot survive independently without the nurturing of another that it is "unviable", and it is okay to allow it to die.

These arguments only apply to fetuses, to babies still in the womb, and they only apply if 1) the fetus is not really "alive" and 2) it is just a part of the mother's body that she can choose what to do with. (And you must believe both, by the way: none of this nonsense about the baby being alive but the mother still has a legal right to choose what to do with it. That's obscene rationalization. Yeah, I'll get crucified for that statement, but that's the truth, people. If you believe that baby is alive, but you think the mother should have a legal right to end its life because "it's her choice" . . . well, I don't know what to do with you.)

Here's the heart of what I want to say: whatever your religious stance, it is hard for me to understand -- based on what we know today, forty-some years after Roe v. Wade -- how you can come to these two beliefs (especially after the 1^st trimester or so) unless you just want them to be true.

I'm not going to rag on Planned Parenthood and what they may or may not be doing that is illegal or immoral. But I do want to focus on something that came out in all those videos. Fetuses that they abort have organs. Intact (before they are mangled by the aborting process), visibly identifiable human organs. Even sexual organs ("It's another boy!" one of the technicians said).

These fetuses have DNA that is distinctly different from their mothers'. I don't know the legal or scientific definitions that apply to all this, but personally, I don't need the law or science to tell me that different DNA is a clear indication of a different human being, not simply a part of a human being growing inside itself.

These fetuses have beating hearts. I heard Chris Christie say the other day that he changed his position on abortion when he heard the heart of his child beating at his wife's OB appointment soon after the first trimester. This is a common story; there are many, many people out there whose feelings about the fetus changed when they heard that early heartbeat or saw that early ultrasound. This is why pro-life clinics try to give pregnant women ultrasounds as early as possible.

(And I don't understand why pro-choice people are so angry about this practice. If they are really about women having a choice, why are they opposed to women having all the available information before making that choice? My friend told me that at Tiller's clinic, they went way out of their way to be sure these women really wanted an abortion – they had no interest in performing procedures that the mother may regret someday. If this is the case with abortion providers, why would they fight the ultrasounds?

Pro-choice people vehemently protest that they are NOT pro-abortion; it's not that they want babies aborted – they just want women to have the choice. If that's true, why would they be pushing the medical route that is most likely to result in an abortion? If they are NOT "pro-abortion," why do they seem to be actively trying to prevent a pregnant woman from having any possible reason to change their mind about the procedure, from making any emotional connection with the fetus?  Why would they pointedly discourage a practice that helps pregnant women recognize and embrace the role of "mother"?  Why would they not rejoice at this? Aren't loving connections between mother and child a positive thing for society overall? Really, I don't understand this.)

Again, I'm afraid to bring this up, because I don't have the knowledge, energy, or time to make the pro-life case to friends who will get riled by my post. And I'm quite sure anyone who wants to can nickpick a million holes in everything I've said here – in everything every pro-life advocate would say. And I'm certainly not denying that there are pregnancy situations where I might wish abortion was okay (my friend described 9-year-old girls who were brought in for abortions after being raped – dear God – no, I would have no idea how to counsel someone in that situation, and that's the truth).

But those extreme situations are extremely rare . . . and arguing the individual points here can shield us from seeing the obvious big picture of what abortion is and how it is happening in our country. Don't focus on defending the trees and miss the layout of the forest – back up and look at this forest we've created. I want to urge my pro-choice friends to really consider what brought you to this position. Listen to your heart. Your gut. To justify abortion, you must believe that there is no life in that fetus. Can you honestly look at those videos, listen to those heartbeats, view those ultrasounds, and believe this is not a life?

If you can, I guess our conversation is done. If you realize that you can't, then God has answered some prayers today.

The Cornelius Decision

So, who else is watching "A.D.", the TV series? I rarely read any comments about it on FB, even from my rabid Christian friends, so I wonder.

It hasn't grabbed me and addicted me (like other shows I'm having to wait until the fall to see again . . . grrr), but it's interesting. Some folks are probably upset about the "extra-biblical" material, angles on the story that were not in the original text. The traveling Ethopian eunuch was involved in a plot against the Romans? James arranged with Caiaphas for the Jesus-followers to be accepted into the temple again? And John the disciple as a black man . . . I understand the desire for ethnic diversity here, but that's really stretching things.

I'm not necessarily bothered by these angles, though. It concerns me a little that the biblically illiterate will watch this and think this is all in the Bible, but because none of it that I've seen yet is contradictory to the important message and spirit of the text, I'm okay with it so far. In fact, as a Bible student and script writer, I'm pretty fascinated by the background stories they are supposing here, based on the sketchy details we are given in the book.

We just caught up yesterday on the episode we missed on vacation. And this was an episode I've been waiting for. From the beginning, when Pilate sent his top centurion out to do some violence and called him Cornelius, I've been waiting for the soldier's conversion -- because I knew this HAD to be that Cornelius. And it was. Great idea to have such a crucial character to the gospel story involved in everything from the start, even though in the Bible he pops up pretty randomly and isn't heard from again.

So, yesterday, Cornelius met Jesus. And he is then immediately called in by Pilate to lead his squadron of soldiers to bring the golden statue of Caligula into the Jewish temple . . . and to kill every Jew that tries to stop them. He's a soldier; he's been given orders, orders he must obey or he will be killed himself. Peter asks him what he will do. Cornelius responds that he will pray that the Holy Spirit shows him what to do. Good answer.

So, Cornelius marches his troops with the offensive statue to the gates of the temple, where he politely asks (there's a change right there) the high priest to step aside so he can fulfill his orders. In answer, Caiaphas offers his throat -- kill me if you must, I won't allow you to desecrate God's temple. Cornelius must decide which master he will obey: his earthly master or his heavenly master. And he must decide in a very public way, with EVERYONE watching. He hesitates.

And in that moment, the mob behind him attacks his squadron, and he is left alone kneeling and praying with his new Christian brothers, while the battle rages without his participation. And his soldiers don't seem to notice.

The episode ended before we found out if there will be consequences for Cornelius not obeying Pilate's orders. I suspect there will be. But isn't it interesting that this episode aired now? An episode that deals with the question of what do I do when doing my job, when obeying governmental authority, goes directly against what I know is God's will?

I'm anxious to see how this will play out in "A.D." I'm even more anxious to see how it will play out in my country.

The Isms

I've been vacationing with the family, so I haven't written for a while. And what I'm going to write about today, I'm a little nervous about, because believe it or not, I don't like controversy. But it's been heavy on my heart, and I feel like I need to say it.

The shooting in Charleston. So terribly sad. But as I joined the online grieving, I was convicted by some of the comments I read. Sentiments along the lines of, "How could this still be happening in our country?" "I thought we had moved past this!" "When will we eradicate racism in our society?"

Sentiments I would have shared in the not-so-distant past, but I don't think I can share today. Because, friends, I don't think we will ever "move past this." I don't think we will ever "eradicate racism." Not really. And so, as much as we need to fight racism, we've really got to focus on a more important task.

I just re-read a book over vacation that I'll be assigning my daughter in English class this fall: The Deadliest Monster. It compares the worldviews of two classic monster stories (which she will also be reading). In Frankenstein, the doctor creates a being who is pure and innocent in its creation; it only becomes a monster when it is treated cruelly by society. In Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Dr. Jekyll recognizes within himself a virtuous self and an evil self and tries to isolate the evil self so as to be able to indulge it once in a while without damage to his reputation; however, the evil self, through the indulgence, becomes more and more powerful and eventually takes over.

The question in this book is, which monster do you believe in? Modern society believes in Frankenstein. We are born good -- the only reason we do bad things is because society messes us up. The solution then is to fix society (laws, education, etc.) so that people are never "trained" to do bad things. We need to pass strong hate crime laws, integrate our schools and neighborhoods, and teach our kids that we are all equal. Then we will get past racism. We will eradicate it.

But the reality is that we are not Frankensteins -- we are Jekyll/Hydes. We are not born good -- we are born with an evil self lurking within us. We are born selfish little snits that need to be "trained" to do good. Racism (at least the selfish, prideful seed that becomes racism) is within us from the womb.

There's an old saying that God doesn't have grandchildren, only children. Righteousness is not passed down from generation to generation. It is not a legacy we leave our offspring. Good manners, maybe. Religious traditions, certainly. Moral habits and desires, perhaps. But not righteousness. Righteousness must be re-born in every individual, one at a time. Who was it that said "We are always one generation away from apostasy"? This is truth. One generation.

I long for a day when our world is genuinely color-blind . . . and gender-blind, and class-blind, and blind to every difference between us that doesn't matter. When my friend's dark brown skin is of no more consequence than my other friend's bright red hair. When we stop celebrating women's history month because women's history is just American history.

But the truth is, IF that day were to ever come, there would still be those who find a reason to hate a group of other people and use guns or bombs to kill them. "Racism" may not be the cause, but there will always be an "ism". No matter what laws we pass . . . no matter how we educate . . . there will always be an "ism".

Because God doesn't have grandchildren. Racism is not a result of bad training; it is a result of an unrighteous heart. The re-birthing of righteous hearts: that's what will stop the isms.

The Pastor, the Black Man, and My Father

The story came to me second- or third-hand, so the details may be wrong . . . but the details don't really matter.

In the latter years of my father's struggle with Alzheimer's, many of his old friends started coming to my mother sharing stories of how he had made a difference in their lives. One of them was our pastor, a godly, well-educated man who happened to have a very strong Southern accent.

Pastor shared how, when he first came to our little Southern Baptist church, there was an African-American man in the congregation (we'll call him "Bill") who clearly had a distinct dislike for him. Pastor didn't know why, although he had his suspicions. But he waited patiently, hoping to win him over in time.

Then the day came when Bill's wife didn't get a Sunday School teaching position she wanted. There was nothing malicious in the decision -- a decision Pastor had nothing to do with anyway. But Bill arrived at that evening's church service breathing violence, making threats, demanding to speak to the pastor alone in his office right now. Pastor agreed to speak with him, but only if my father was there, also. Bill agreed.

Once the office door was closed, Bill began to rage. You hate me . . .You did this . . . You did that . . You've always done this . . . You're a racist! . . . You're a hypocrite! . . . You hate me!!.

Pastor and my father sat quietly and let him vent. When he was finished and stood panting in front of them, there was a long pause. And then my father leaned over, looked the angry man directly in the eye, and said calmly and purposefully:

"Bill, you know that nothing you just said is true. You know Pastor is not a racist. You know he does not hate you. You know he loves you as a brother in Christ. Everything you just said is a lie . . . and you know it."

Bill looked at him for a minute. Then he looked at Pastor for a minute. Then he sat in his chair and began to weep. And the hour that followed was filled with old stories, old injustices, old hurts, and long overdue forgiveness and healing. The brotherly love I saw between these two men in all the years I grew up in that church never gave any indication of this rocky start in their relationship.

Praise God, He is Jehovah Rapha, the God Who Heals.

I am honored that God chose to speak love and truth through my father that night. And I wish there were more voices speaking this way to people today.

Yes, friends, you have been wronged. Your pain is legitimate. There has been injustice and there still is. But let's live in the truth.

Citizen, this police officer did not stop you just because you're black.

Friend, this neighbor does not hate you because you're a lesbian.

Son, this teacher does not call you out more because you're Latino.

Sister, this boss did not pass you over for that promotion because you're a woman.

Brother in Christ, this comment is not an attack on you because you're a Christian.

There has been injustice in the past . . . and there is injustice now and will be in the future. But that doesn't mean that THIS is injustice, or that everything is injustice. And it is no answer or solution to injustice to accuse other innocent people unjustly.

Be committed to truth. Walk and live in the light. If we want others to not make assumptions about us based on our "type," we must afford them the same courtesy.

Legal Homeschooling

Because I'm back to homeschooling in the fall, and because I don't feel I've got a complete grip on the ins and outs of homeschooling through high school, and because I haven't been to a homeschool convention in many years (and because I'm one of those weirdos that really enjoys things like homeschool conventions), I went to the FEAST homeschool convention this weekend here in San Antonio.

And because I'm new to Texas, one of the workshops I attended was the one about Homeschooling and the Law in Texas. I figure, I better be sure I'm legal.

This is the third state I've homeschooled in. New Jersey was amazingly hands-off about homeschooling -- there were really no regulations of any kind, essentially. I kept hearing about the overbearing, overwhelming regulations in next-door Pennsylvania and thanking my lucky stars I didn't live there.

Iowa was something in between. We had to "register" with the local school district every year, and we had to do something every year to give evidence that our students were progressing (standardized tests, portfolio . . . I paid a woman to come in and check on us once a quarter . . . she was nice and it was easy). The cool thing in Iowa was that, in our district anyway, we were able to participate in just about anything in the public schools we wanted to sign our kids up for. My youngest took violin lessons. My oldest was "dual enrolled" for eighth grade, going to the public middle school for science and the "exploratory" class with a quarter each of art, music, etc.

Texas seems to be about as free as New Jersey. The workshop speaker said the only requirements to homeschool in Texas (where a homeschool is considered the equivalent of a private school) is that you use a curriculum and that you are making "bona fide" progress in that curriculum. I asked him about that, because I am an English teacher and I don't purchase an English curriculum for my kids -- I know what they need to learn. He said that is fine. I just need to be able, if asked sometime, so produce something that shows what I'm covering and something that proves I've been covering it.

I'm not gonna lie: it is really nice to live in a state where you have so much freedom in your homeschool. But I'm also not gonna lie about this: I'm not completely comfortable with the idea of homeschoolers having such little oversight. I mean, I know I'm going to teach my children well -- and I know when I find I'm not doing a good job, I'm going to look for someone to do a better job (I've already hired a woman to do biology labs with my daughter next year because I know myself better than to believe I'm going to navigate that road successfully).

And the truth is, I have not personally known any homeschool parent who would ever have shirked their duty toward their children in homeschooling. This is a huge commitment; nobody is going to take it on who isn't going to take it seriously.

Except the really rare, really messed-up people out there. And there are a few. And a part of me still believes that the state has a stake in making sure children are protected from neglectful and abusive parents, whether they neglect to feed them or neglect to educate them.

Our workshop speaker gave a bit of the history of homeschooling in Texas. In the 80s, it was illegal to homeschool in the state, period (as it was in much of the country). He related stories of families at that time who did "CPS drills" in their school day. The kids knew when the doorbell rang, they had to pick up their books, go to mom and dad's closet, and sit in there quietly with the lights off and door shut until mom came to say the coast was clear.

Now, as grateful as I am for the pioneers of that period who went through great struggles to give me the freedom to educate my children that I enjoy today, I was uncomfortable with these stories. If it was illegal to homeschool, why were they homeschooling? I expect their answer was that they felt called of God to do it, and their obedience to God trumps their obedience to the state. And even though I don't see a biblical requirement to homeschool (certainly a case to be made for it, but not a requirement), I guess I'd have to accept that answer from those law-breaking pioneers.

Mainly because I anticipate situations coming up when Christians (maybe even I myself) will be called by God to obey in a way that the laws of the land forbid. And I anticipate there will be other Christians arguing with them (or me) that such a reading of the Bible is ridiculous. (I already get those comments now.)

And if obeying my God means breaking the law, paying fine, going to jail, or doing "CPS drills" to protect my kids, I guess that's what I will do. Just like marriage vows . . . the commitment I made many years ago to submit to my Lord doesn't get revoked when obedience gets hard.

Benedict and Daniel

These new pictures of Bruce Jenner make me sad. The effusive praise coming from his supporters makes me sad. The hateful spite coming from his detractors makes me sad. The whole flippin' situation . . . sad, sad, sad. I grieve over what is happening in our country.

I posted an article on FB yesterday about a movement that's apparently been around but I'd never heard of: the Benedict Option. Here's the gist of it. America is going the way of ancient Rome, morally imploding. For the past few decades, religious social conservatives have believed themselves to be the majority and tried to get everyone to band together and vote the right way to protect and maintain their beliefs. It is becoming increasingly clear that they are no longer the majority (if they ever were) and that they are, in fact, becoming social pariahs. The Moral Majority approach will no longer work. We need instead to follow the example of St. Benedict who, when Rome was falling, created small communities where truth was taught and maintained. We need to "cultivate and preserve a robustly Christian subculture within an increasingly hostile common culture."

Interesting, because I've kind of been thinking along those lines for quite a while now.

Benedict created monasteries -- and that kind of cocooning is not what is needed now, I don't think. (Not sure it's even feasible in this day and age.) But I've thought for a long time (and have written about it here) that the Church in America is going to soon have to start taking a Daniel approach to ministry.

Daniel was one of the Hebrews carried away to Babylon during the Jewish exile. Because he was upper class and well-educated, he was brought to the court, probably with the hopes that they could re-educate him to their beliefs and he would be an asset to their side. Instead, he stood firm on his own beliefs (recall the lion's den story) and ended up influencing the king himself. Others in exile were like him, and they preserved the Hebrew faith until they were allowed to go home.

I heard a speaker once talking about starting a church in Salt Lake City with a Daniel approach, as opposed to a David and Goliath approach. Rather than storming the place to conquer the enemy (which seems to have been the way of the American Church lately), he entered as a guest in a foreign land, living out truth quietly and peacefully (whatever the consequences), praying for an invitation to give a reason for his belief.

This is the future of believers in America, I think. My principal spoke once of the fact that we are called to raise a Daniel generation. Amen.

No coming after the giants with rage and defiance. No hiding away in monasteries. Live quietly and peacefully within the hostile land. Live out the truth, whatever the consequences, and pray that others look at your life and want to have what you have. Quietly, peacefully, and lovingly.

Because Christ said his disciples would be known by their love. Not our politics . . . not our morals . . . not our rhetoric . . . by our love.  And Lord knows, that is NOT what the American Church is known for these days.

Baltimore and Paris: A Tale of Two Cities

My 9th grade Bible class prayed for Baltimore yesterday morning. But I hadn't anticipated Baltimore coming up later in English when we discussed A Tale of Two Cities. The comparison was quite appropriate, however.

ToTC takes place during the French Revolution, and Dickens gives us powerful descriptions of the corruption of the French aristocracy and its oppression of the French people. Communities are taxed to the point of starvation. A child is run over and killed without even an apology. Hungry families are told to eat grass. The "Monseigneur" and his class were abominable.

But the uprising of the people becomes even more of an abomination. Thousands beheaded. Their tribunals a travesty of justice. Innocents sent to the guillotine themselves for merely expressing grief over the execution of a loved one. People coming to watch the daily beheadings as entertainment, reveling in the blood running in their streets. Women bringing their knitting to the daily show. A man hopes for a young girl to be named among those to die, because her pretty blond curls will look so nice on the Barber's blade.

Horrific.

By the point where we are in the novel right now, the evils of the aristocracy, unjust as they were, are almost forgotten. The evils done in answer are their equal, if not worse. Yet the Citizens of France claim them to be justified in answer to the injustice done to them.

Just as I heard a black commentator on CNN Monday night tell us that what was happening in Baltimore was not a riot -- this was an uprising, and one perfectly justified in light of the injustices done on the black community.

One good French aristocrat gave up his rights and inheritance, refusing to be a part of the corruption he was born into. He returned to France later during the Revolution, expecting to be accepted as one of the people and hoping to be a force for peace. Instead, he was jailed and sentenced to execution. Once a Marquis, always a Marquis.

I wonder how many of those injured police officers in Baltimore actually participated in the injustice their department is accused of. And if any of them might have tried to stop it. Yet they got a rock to the skull as well.

To me, the most fascinating character of the novel is Dr. Manette. A Bastille prisoner himself, falsely accused and almost destroyed by the evils of the French aristocracy. But he was saved by the love of his daughter, and he is now appalled by the evils of this Revolution. He is loved and admired by the French Citizenry, yet he can not stop the flood of hatred. He can only walk in the midst of it, speaking truth, saving a person here, a person there.

And I recall images of black ministers in suits walking the streets of Baltimore Monday night. Victims themselves, most likely. Saved by love. Speaking truth. Stopping one crime here, another there.

An exact analogy it is not, yet the comparison is valid. Unfortunately, Dickens offers no instructive solution for us. His novel ends with the good guys escaping Paris as it continues to self-destruct. This is not an option for Baltimore. I do find it interesting, however, that even Dickens, who was not a believer, instinctively seemed to understand something about the only real answer to such injustice and hatred. The hero at the end of his novel is a man who voluntarily steps in to be executed in place of another.

There is a reason why the Classics have become Classics. They speak timelessly to the condition of humanity's soul.

Can We Celebrate This?

The Butler was on this past weekend (at least in our house – Hubby DVR’d it). And I was once again moved by the scene at the end when Cecil Gaines watches Barack Obama winning the presidency.

Because as much as I am opposed to the man’s politics and policies – as much as I disagree with the direction he has taken our country in the last six years – I was and still am quite moved by the fact that our country finally elected an African-American to its highest office. Seeing a movie like The Butler, which reminds us of how bad things were at one time for blacks in our country and how hard the fight was to turn that around, only makes me the more grateful.

My daughter, on the other hand, was surprisingly complacent about the whole thing. Maybe it was a big deal, she said, but it really shouldn’t have been.  It shouldn’t have mattered what color his skin was. Well no, honey, it shouldn’t have – but it did. That’s the whole point. And the fact that it doesn’t matter to you now is kind of the whole point.

Can we take a moment to celebrate the fact that – despite the whole “black lives matter” controversies of recent months – we are raising what is probably the most colorblind generation the United States has ever seen? My children had to be taught that some people see blacks as inferior, and they found this fact strange. There’s a victory right there. I don’t remember being taught that. I just knew. It was part of my experience; it’s not part of theirs.

In 1995 and 1996, I worked as a temp in an MCI sales office in Springfield, Missouri, with an African-American receptionist named Belinda, who became a close friend. This was during the O.J. Simpson trial – and in a city about an hour north of the Arkansas border where a road sign informed you that the local Ku Klux Klan chapter sponsored the clean-up of that stretch of highway – so she and I had a lot of talks about race relations during that year together.

I remember the day she told me that her parents believed that every white person in America thought like Mark Fuhrman – that all white people hate black people. I was stunned. You mean to tell me that, if they walked in this door and saw me sitting at this desk . . . didn’t know me from Adam . . . knew nothing about my background, my faith, my beliefs, my experiences, my heart . . . they would look at the color of my skin and immediately assume that I hated them?? Yes, she said, they would. That had been their experience.

Stunned, I tell you. I was completely stunned.

She was quick to tell me that she certainly didn’t believe that – her life experiences had been quite different. And her daughter’s experiences had been better yet – her biracial daughter had never experienced any significant prejudice that she was aware of in her fourteen years to that point (despite living in a city where blacks were a very small minority). My friend had much hope for the future of race relations in our country and in that community in particular.

Can we take a moment to celebrate the differences in life experiences in the three generations of that African-American family?

I’m not so ignorant or sheltered as to believe racism has been eradicated in America. Frankly, I’m realistic enough to believe that it never will be eradicated in America . . . in this world . . . or in this life. Humanity is just that sinful. But in the midst of difficult times in our country, I would love to hear more people celebrating that, by the grace of God, we are not who we used to be.

"It Must Be By His Death . . . " -- Must It?

Rome is Brutus' first love. We read paragraph after paragraph of student writing supporting this thesis in my honors sophomore English class with Mr. Umansky. Frankly, writing and evaluating those paragraphs is all I remember about our Julius Caesar unit that year -- in fact, I wouldn't even remember that we read it except that thesis statement is seared into my brain: Rome is Brutus' first love.

But I've taught Julius Caesar several times since then, and I'm teaching it now, and I LO-O-OVE this play! And I am LOVING the discussions I'm having with this class.

The big debate yesterday: did Brutus have good reasons for joining the conspiracy to kill Caesar? Well, his reasons seem more noble than the others'. He loves Caesar, but he is afraid of what will happen to Rome if Caesar gains too much power, because he predicts power will corrupt him.

But how does he know power will corrupt him? He also predicts that Antony is but a limb of Caesar and won't be any danger. He predicts that the people will rule by their reason and appreciate what the conspirators have done for them. He predicts that letting Antony speak at Caesar's funeral will be to their advantage more than otherwise. And he was dead wrong about it all.

And is there ever a good reason, a noble reason to take a life? (Insert "American Sniper" discussion here.)

And what about Antony? He's noble for standing by Caesar . . . we think . . . but what are his motives? And what a two-faced sneak that man is! Making his peace with the conspirators, shaking their bloody hands, and then turning around and swearing vengeance. Is that noble or not?

How about that funeral oration of his? It's positively masterful. "Brutus is an honorable man" he tells them over and over, all the while proving definitively what a traitor Brutus is. Riling up the crowd with passion, denigrating himself humbly as "a plain, blunt man," -- "no orator, as Brutus is" -- oh, the irony!

And the crowd! The mob! It's laughable how changeable they are! "This Caesar was a tyrant!" One minute, and weeping for him the next. "Caesar's better parts shall be crowned in Brutus!" at one point, and then "Burn! Fire! Kill! Slay! Let not a traitor live!" just a few minutes later. So easily swayed by pretty words. (And when have we heard pretty words sway a changeable crowd into action unwise for the course of a country . . . ?)

Why, that mob actually murdered an innocent man in the streets just because he was unfortunate enough to have the same name as one of the conspirators. "I am Cinna, the poet!" he cried. "I am Cinna, the poet!!"

"Tear him for his bad verses!" the mob growls. Insert images of the Ferguson, Missouri, madness here.

Don't ever tell me that Shakespeare is not relevant to the modern reader. And don't ever tell me it isn't interesting to the modern teenager. They just need to know how to read it -- and to read it like it was meant to be read: with PASSION. Because as Antony tells us (long before Elizabeth Taylor did), "Passion, I see, is catching."

I'm Guilty, Too

Yesterday, Hubby and I joined our daughter at a youth group event focusing on Martin Luther King Jr. The man did great things. I believe the Spirit spoke through him to our country. I still can't hear the end of the "I Have a Dream" speech without tearing up -- I'm a sucker for powerful words containing powerful truth delivered in a powerful way.

But all I could think about last night was an unfortunate fact I learned about him in recent years: he cheated on his wife. Many times over.

I know, I know . . . this doesn't discredit any of the great things he did. All of us have our secret sins that we struggle with -- we'd all be shocked to see the ugliness in the lives of our greatest heroes, I'm sure. But this particular sin has been hounding me lately.

I just finished reading O'Reilly's Killing Patton (if you're curious for a review, a good book, but not as compelling to me as his other three). Patton cheated on his wife. FDR cheated on Eleanor. Everyone knows about Kennedy's dalliances (from one of O'Reilly's earlier books). And of course, history is filled with stories of influential men and women who fell in the same way. Frankly, I'm so tired of hearing about great people who change the world but can't keep the most basic promise they make to the person they are supposed to put first in their lives. Depressing.

What's worse, I seem to be inundated with stories of friends whose marriages are on the rocks right now because of adultery. Several more just in the last month or so.

Good grief. It makes me despair of my own daughters ever getting wed. I don't want to watch them suffer the pain of that kind of betrayal, and I've started to feel lately like it's almost inevitable that it will happen to one of them. If nothing else, I will probably spend their entire married lives watching for signs, suspicious . . . and I don't want to do that.

Why does sexual sin -- in every form -- so permeate our society? Not just our society . . . the world. Throughout history. Sex is a blessed gift from God. Why does mankind consistently mess it up so badly? Why can't we get this right?

A book I'm reading reminds me that the marriage relationship is a picture of our relationship with God. (In fact, every significant relationship we experience in life is used in scripture to tell us more about us and God.) And scripture also uses the experience of adultery as a metaphor for how we, on our end, broke that relationship.

That's sobering. I have just as adulterous a heart as all these philanderers I've mentioned. I consistently turn away from the One I gave my life to, the One I promised to put first in my life, and turn to other gods for relationship and satisfaction. And yet He calls me back -- over and over -- loves me anyway -- never lets go of me. Unbelievable.

If we weren't capable of such profound depths of sin, we would never know the extent of God's love and mercy and grace. What an amazing God we serve. He makes ALL things work for our good, even the sin and rebellion we repent of.

Reality TV Christians

Apparently John Luke Robertson is engaged. And apparently he and his fiancee are staying abstinent until marriage.

My first reaction: I would never want to put myself in a position where I felt such information needed to be shared with the world. I have NO desire for fame.

My second reaction: it saddens me to no end that being abstinent until marriage is a big enough deal to be a news story.

Seriously.

A friend was telling me a while back that, at the church we attended together a couple moves ago, most of the young people we loved and respected have no qualms at all about living together and having sex before they get married. None at all. Christian young people. It's just no big deal.

I cannot tell you how sad that makes me.

I suppose I would expect that of unbelievers, but even in them, it makes me sad. It's one thing when you have an ideal in your head to save yourself for your wedding day, but you fail to live up to your ideal in the end. That's a sad thing, too. But it's quite another to go into your dating years without even having the mindset that saving yourself is a desirable thing worth the effort. Without feeling any sense of shame or guilt AT ALL about crossing a line that the God you claim to worship and submit to has clearly drawn for you. Clearly.

How in the world did we get here? How did the church manage to raise a generation who has so little regard for the word of their God?

Ugh. If I think about this too much, it really discourages me.

So back to John Luke. I haven't seen "Duck Dynasty" for a while -- my girls kind of got off of that kick. They're more interested in the Duggar crew these days and their various courtships, engagements, marriages, and baby-birthing.

I don't know what to think about the Duggars. If nothing else, they at least are putting some important topics out in the public eye to be discussed. Like modesty, healthy relationships, and such. And for the most part, they don't seem really pushy about things.

They just seem annoying. Are friends going to hate me for saying that? The Duggars annoy me. They're the kind of people that, if I knew them in real life, I would admire for some things but would avoid having to spend too much time with them because they just flat out turn me off.

Maybe they're different in real life -- maybe they would seem a little more genuine and natural than they do on TV. I can't imagine living your life in the public eye like they do: staging conversations and situations for the ever-present cameras (because yes, I have no doubt most of those are "staged", even if they are conversations and situations that would have happened for real without the cameras there).

For instance, when Jessa's boyfriend (I forget his name) approached Jim Bob to ask for permission to propose. They did this on camera. I don't believe for a moment that Jim Bob walked into that room without knowing that this discussion was going to happen. It was awkward; it was weird; it was a personal moment that did not need to be acted out for the world to watch. And it annoyed me that they did act it out for the world to watch.

I suppose I should be happy that there are confessing Christians out there living a Christian life in the public eye as a testimony. But I'm not sure that I am. I think I'd rather there were more confessing Christians living a good Christian life in their homes, neighborhoods, and workplaces for their friends to see as a testimony.

And dear friends, that would most definitely include saving yourself for marriage. Sigh.