Lewis & Clark Abbreviated

from the book "Finding Liberty"

“Daddy, can we go camping in the backyard sometime?” my 8 year old son asks.

“Sure,” I reply, safe in knowing that a camping trip is well off into the future. It’s January - we’re still living in Florida at the time and I’m still running a daily sprint in the corporation rat race - and though the landscape is not exactly covered with a blanket of snow, it’s still cold enough to keep two novices (this one without even a sleeping bag) indoors and waiting for warmer weather. “But we’ll have to wait a few months,” I finish.

A happy & excited boy bounces off like Tigger, already imagining the adventure.

“Daddy, is it warm enough to go camping now?” He’s back, and he hasn’t forgotten the promise. The seasons have changed - perhaps faster than I would have liked - and it is now April. This time, I lift my head to make a serious looking inspection of the outside world through the living room window. Cold weather is no longer an issue.

“I don’t know, David,” I say with due gravity. “Looks pretty cloudy out there. I think it’s supposed to rain tonight.”

“Okay, Daddy. But we’ll go soon, won’t we?”

“Absolutely. Very soon.”

A happy & excited boy again bounces off like Tigger. For a moment, though, it seems to me that his bounce is maybe not quite as high as it once was. Must be my imagination, I think to myself.

My son is blessed with an uncanny memory and dogged persistence. His father has been given the gift of procrastination and the ability to prioritize those things that are important only to himself. And so as the weeks go by, the litany of excuses continues:

“Can we do it tonight, Daddy? Can we?”

“Maybe next week, David.”
“Daddy’s not feeling too well today, buddy.”
“It’s Wednesday, David. Daddy has to be at work tomorrow.”
“Daddy has to finish some work for a big meeting on Monday.”
. . . and so on, and so on, and so on.

With each request, my little Tigger approaches me with boundless optimism and excitement, and with each rebuff, no matter how gentle, I can’t help but accept the fact that his bounce is a little less than it was before.

Finally, almost as if to spite me, a beautiful Saturday arrives that can accept no excuses. A promise must be kept. Lewis & Clark, however long delayed, must now depart for the wild unknown, even if the wild unknown is only 50 feet from the back porch.

Supplies are gathered, coonskin caps are donned, checklists are reviewed. The two intrepid adventurers cut their way into the dense wilderness - St. Augustine grass cutting viciously at their ankles - as they find the perfect spot to make camp. A site is selected and the tent is pitched, with only minor confusion and sorting of poles, rods, & ropes.

Soon, our meager supplies are safely stored inside; our one sleeping bag for David, a few threadbare blankets for me, and what little food we have left. We take our minds off of the peril of our situation by playing some video games on the 12” color TV that I rigged up.

By sheer luck more than anything else, I had rescued the 100’ orange extension cord from my pack just before it had plunged over the cliff earlier in the day. As more sheer luck would have it (what can I say, I’m a pretty lucky guy), we had located a natural 110v 3-prong power source nearby.

In preparation for the next day, Lewis patiently instructed the older Clark how to play a wide variety of video games. Lewis’ favorite teaching method seemed to involve trouncing Clark into oblivion over and over, but to his credit, the elder Clark was an attentive student, and soon learned methods & skills that allowed him to get trounced not quite so badly.

Midnight came and went. Finally, the two weary explorers, facing dawn in only a few hours, secure from the day’s instruction, take a quick walk of the perimeter, and then lock down the tent to keep the savage forest creatures at bay. As they lay there in the darkness, with only the nighttime sounds of insects, animals, and people driving around way past their bedtimes, the ever inquisitive Lewis begs to be regaled by some of the more perilous stories of Clark’s past. Namely, he wants to hear some ghost stories (“but not too scary, Daddy”).

And so passes the night.

In the morning, the two adventurers are abruptly awakened by a beautiful Indian squaw, who had thoughtfully prepared both men breakfast in a nearby teepee. The young Lewis was up almost instantly and bounded off, without even a glancing thought for his own safety. The older Clark, however, took a little more time shaking off the effects of the night; somewhere in the past 30 years, the ground had apparently gotten a little harder, and wounds once ancient and forgotten had been reawakened.

Two things entered into Clark’s mind as the morning sun bathed the stiffness in his body. The first were the words of another great adventurer, Indiana Jones, who once said “It ain’t the years, it’s the mileage.” The second was a Far Side cartoon where a settler lay beside his wagon, his body pierced with a dozen arrows even as the Indians still circled, who looked up to his partner and said, “Yeah, Clem, I hurt. But it’s a good hurt.”

The expedition was a success.

After breakfast, I came out to the back porch with a cup of coffee to enjoy the peace of the morning with Catherine. David had returned to the tent and was just lying there inside, looking up at the top of the dome with his hands behind his head, a smile on his face. When we asked him what he was doing, he stated that he was just trying to make the campout with his dad last a little bit longer.

Suddenly, I realized for the first time how truly important this had been for David. This had not been a silly campout in the backyard at all, but a chance instead for a young boy to get the attention & affection of his father that he so desperately wanted.

I made a decision: Lewis & Clark would travel again. And if a brave little air mattress happens to make the next journey with them, well, so much the better.

Saturdays With Sarah

From the book "Finding Liberty":

When my daughter Sarah was a baby, she had just enough energy to make it to lunchtime. There was no “gentle warning tone” when her gas gauge neared empty, just a predictable yet sudden moment - somewhere between noon and 1 o’clock - when her eyes would screw shut, her mouth would open wide, and a piercing wail of fatigue would start to vent from deep within her.

On Saturdays, this was my call to action. I would dutifully scoop up my baby girl into my arms, retire to the darkened bedroom, and begin the ritual of her nap.

Holding her little body to my chest, I would pace the confines of the bedroom with a slow, rocking gait. I would quietly sing her a lullaby - usually the same one over and over – until her insistent crying gradually abated to the gentle hitches of soft, muffled sobs. As the fight continued to leave her body, I would stop singing the lullaby and begin humming it instead, the vibrations from my chest adding their own chorus to an already sleepy symphony.

When I sensed that she was all but played out, I would lay her on the bed. She would wake up, of course, but that was expected, so just as soon as her head was on the pillow I would quickly lie down beside her. At this point, she would no longer have the energy to actively contest the inevitable, but her droopy eyelids would continue to battle gravity and resist the siren song of sleep for as long as they were able.

I knew from experience that if I just remained there with her, she would be fast asleep in 10 or 15 minutes. I also knew that after those same 10 or 15 minutes of lying next to her warm little body and breathing in her sweet baby perfume, I would be asleep too, and my Saturday would suddenly have a great big hole in it.

I really couldn’t complain. For 5 days each week I was not there at all to assist my wife with the children, and during every night of the week I simply was not endowed with the necessary equipment to help out even if I had wanted to (and I can promise you that during those nights I had absolutely no desire to be of any assistance whatsoever). So if the weekend gave me the opportunity to provide my wife with a little relief, it should not have bothered me at all. But it still did. Especially on Saturdays.

Sundays were already kind of a “scratch” anyway. Church in the morning, lunch, maybe a football game in the afternoon; then dinner, baths, and everyone to bed early in preparation for Monday morning. But Saturdays . . . well, those hurt a little.

Saturday was the one day that was open to all possibilities, and it was the one day that I had available to get accomplished whatever it was that I needed to do. And there was always so much to do. The grass needed to be cut. The cars needed to be washed. I needed to make some headway into the pile of things that had broken during the week. Half a dozen unfinished projects begged for attention. The list seemed almost endless, and that was just the “preventive maintenance” I needed to do to keep from falling behind further than I already was. New projects? Something just for fun? Forget it.

So when I would hear Sarah get fussy on Saturday afternoon I would almost always feel a touch of frustration coupled with a vague sense of loss. I would think of those things that I would not be able to do simply because my daughter needed to take a nap, and who, in doing so, would inadvertently pull her daddy into the same land of blissful slumber regardless of how hard he tried not to go. Once again, a Saturday with almost unlimited potential would be gutted.

Some things will always be, but some things will never be again. 10 years have now passed. The grass still needs to be cut, the cars still need to be washed, and I still have a half dozen projects that need my attention, but my little girl doesn’t take naps with her daddy anymore.

Sarah is 11 now, and the vague sense of loss that I feel at this point in my life is one of knowing that my baby girl will never be a baby again. She has girlfriends that occupy her time now. She has private talks with her mother that I am not privy to. She still loves her daddy, but she isn’t quite as dependant on him as she used to be.

My little girl plays softball now, and through some twist of fate I somehow got roped into being an assistant coach for her team, even though I know nothing about coaching. It’s been a rude awakening for me to learn how much time being a coach will carve out of each week. For 3 months now we’ve had practice after practice and game after game in a seemingly endless buffet of sweat, dust, sunburn, bruises, and sore muscles. Sometimes it seems as if every time I turn around I’m getting ready to head back out to the ballpark. I admit, it’s been a little frustrating at times.

But then I look at my daughter; so excited as she runs out onto the field, so determined as she stands in the batter’s box, so happy as she chants with her teammates in the dugout. And I am here with her. Suddenly, my heart swells with joy as any & all regrets of what will not be are washed away by the realization of what is, and I am able to fully appreciate these fleeting moments in time simply for what they are.

There are some things I can no longer do with my daughter, but this is something that I can do with her - today - and I intend to soak up every single minute of it while I still have the chance.

Because some things will never be again.

What He Won't Remember

(from the book "Finding Liberty")

We always felt fairly isolated in Orlando; homeschooling was frowned upon by almost everyone, churches were big & impersonal, and finding like-minded people who simply didn’t care what the “Jones'’” did were few and far between. Although it didn’t really bother Catherine and I for ourselves that we seemed a little isolated, it did bother us for our children, because there were so few other kids around for them to play with.

I don’t know where all the kids in the neighborhood went when they came home from school – to their TV’s, computers, and video games, I guess – but they sure weren’t outside. I’m not just exaggerating either; you never saw them.

One morning Catherine was talking to a neighbor across the street and our son David, who was about 6 years old then, came up and asked our neighbor if her boys could come out to play. She kind of hemmed & hawed and then said that maybe they could come out to play around 3 O’clock. Well, to David this was firm date set in stone, and as the hours clicked away our little boy got more and more excited. But Cat & I knew that this lady never let her kids play with anyone in the neighborhood, and even as David’s excitement grew, we became more unsettled about what would actually happen.

3 O’clock finally rolled around, and David was ready to play. He was so excited! With something almost like dread, we took him outside where he ran to the end of the driveway and just stood there looking across the street – so excited and expectant – as he waited for a playmate who would never come. They weren’t home. Of course they weren’t home; she never had any intention of letting her boys play with David. I had known that, and Catherine had known that, but David didn’t.

I can still see him there; standing at first, then eventually sitting with his hands folded on his lap, so patient and happy, even as we tried to gently make excuses for why there would be no one for him to play with that day. “Just a few more minutes Daddy”, he would say, and then patiently continue to wait, eyes watching the empty house across the street.

My heart cried for my son that day. Why would you not want your kids to play with this beautiful little boy? He doesn’t swear, he doesn’t smart off, he doesn’t bully; he’s polite, he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, and he has an imagination that is pure and joyful. Isn’t that the kind of boy you want your kids to play with? I don’t care if you hurt me, but don’t hurt my son. Not that way.

I mention that incident because shortly after moving to Liberty, David was invited to a birthday party. After living for years in a world almost sterile of friends for our kids, this was as much a joy for Cat & I as it was for David, and we wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

When we arrived, the 8 or so boys already at the party were playing Whiffle-Ball in the backyard, and David was invited to join in. It came his time to bat, and after several swings he was able to hit the ball. I was so proud.

And then he just stood there. The other kids were screaming at him, “Run! Run! Run!”, and after a few confused moments and many pointing fingers he finally took off and made it to first base. I stood there watching and felt my heart crack a little.

The next batter came to the plate and hit the first pitch. And David, so excited to be included and playing a game with other kids, just stood there on first base, not knowing what to do.

Again, the boys all began screaming, “Run! Run! Run!”, and my heart broke into pieces as I watched my beautiful little boy start running after the ball instead of towards 2nd base.

He didn’t know how to play baseball. I had never taught him.

I stood there hurting and embarrassed for this little boy named after a noble king. I stood there helplessly, watching him flounder in bewildered confusion as he tried so hard to do good, while bearing the brunt of mockery and laughter and screaming, and not even understanding why.

If there could be this much pain involved just watching my son get ridiculed by others, how much more must there have been for God when He watched His get murdered?

To their credit, the other boys didn’t give David too hard of a time, and once they learned that he had simply never played before, they did a pretty good job taking him under their wing and helping him out. In other words, doing what I should have already done long ago.

And just where had I been all that time? What had I been doing?

Like so many of those around me in that past world, I had been doing all of those things which were important to me, but not to my son. David never cared whether or not his dad closed “that big deal”, or that he was successful at “leveraging partnerships”, or that his management skills resulted in “good synergy” within the workplace. Those aren’t things that have any meaning to him whatsoever. They don’t affect his life at all, and he won’t remember me for them.

What he will remember me for is how well I’ve prepared him for this world that I brought him into. He’ll remember me for what I teach him about life & love, anger & fear, and honor & integrity. He’ll remember me for teaching him about losing with dignity & winning with grace, coping with rejection & acknowledging praise, doing what is right & leading by example, and standing your ground for what you believe in, even if others don’t like it.

Regardless of how good or bad I may do those things, he’ll at least remember that I tried, and if nothing else, he’ll have a starting point from which he can then further develop his own ideas and values as he goes through his life. That’s the only real legacy that I can give him. Those are the things that he will remember me for.

To my shame, however, he’ll never remember me for teaching him how to play baseball.

The Shining

(from the book Finding Liberty)

I’ve always liked a good name. Names for people, names for places, names for things; and as someone who loves to read (and tries to write), names for stories.

My favorite book title of all time is Ray Bradbury’s “Something Wicked This Way Comes”. I like it not because it refers to something evil, but because through a thoughtful arrangement of five normal words, the title, all by itself, invokes a very deep (though ominous) feeling. Compare it as he wrote it to, say, “Here Comes Something Wicked”, which sounds more like the name of “a delightfully witty” Broadway musical.

Snore.

If book titles were paintings, to me, that particular one of Bradbury’s would be a Renoir.

Another of my favorite book names is “This Far, No Further”. The book was forgettable, but even after ten years, its title still lives with me. It just feels powerful, like something God would say (Author's Note: in fact, I found out later that God actually says something very close to that in the book of Job).

Back in the 80’s, Stephen King wrote a book called “The Shining”. Without regard to the subject matter of his novel, this is another title that I really like, simply because by taking an adjective and using it as if it were a noun instead, he created a whole different meaning. No longer are we using the word “shining” to describe something else, we’re treating it as if the description itself is the actual thing in question. Something that is not static, but in motion. Something that simply “is”, even if there is no good definition or rational explanation for it.

In the Bible, Joseph is a fascinating person. Genesis gives a lot of history and stories about Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, but if you go through the post-flood history starting with Abraham, Joseph is the first one who actually starts doing things that really have an effect on a very large number of people. It’s almost like God chose Abraham specifically because He needed him (as well as Isaac and Jacob) just so that He could finally get around to Joseph.

Joseph was different from his ancestors in a lot of ways, but the most interesting difference to me was that he seems to be the first person mentioned in the Bible that people could just look at and know he was a man of God.

Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob were righteous men also and were treated as such, but they were also powerful men, and it could be argued that some of the reverence they received from others could have been influenced by that. Joseph, on the other hand, was a nobody, a slave. And yet, without hitting anyone over the head with a Bible or preaching the Gospels or shouting the name of Jesus Christ (and we know that he didn’t since none of those things would be around for quite some time) people simply knew he was with God.

In Genesis 39, both Potiphar (the captain of Pharoah’s bodyguard) and the chief jailer (who oversaw Joseph when he was imprisoned) knew that Joseph was with God. So trusting were they of Joseph that they let him run the whole show. Potiphar made him overseer of his house and “all that he owned he put in his charge.” The jailer “committed to Joseph’s charge all the prisoners who were in the jail; so that whatever was done there, he was responsible for it.”

This is pretty amazing if you think about. Both of these guys worked for Pharoah, one as the captain of his bodyguard, and the other as the overseer of the jail reserved for the king’s prisoners. From what I know about Pharoahs, they didn’t have too much of a problem putting people to death if they felt like it (as the baker in Genesis 40 would attest to if he could). If either Potiphar or the jailer messed something up or displeased Pharoah – and they were both close enough to Pharoah for that to be possible – they probably could have expected a rather blunt and unceremonious end to their lives, and yet they both put Joseph, a Hebrew slave, in charge.

What did they see in this guy? How could they be so sure of this man’s integrity and godliness that they would (in all likelihood) put their own lives at risk by entrusting him with everything? We have the luxury of having the Bible to tell us that God was with Joseph, but how did they know?

I recently read a book called “The Irresistible Revolution”, by Shane Claiborne. (I personally think it would be a good idea for this book to be mandatory reading for every Christian, but the vast majority would hate it, because the author does not even try to validate the comfortable routine that mainstream Christianity has become.) Shane lives his life in Philadelphia in what you might call an “inner city mission” located in a very bad part of town. It’s a commune of sorts, though its focus is on Jesus Christ rather than “free love” & drugs.

One of the stories he told was about a trip to the grocery store he took with another member of their little mission. As they walked down the street they passed a disgustingly dirty woman in an alley, who, crutches and all, offered “her services”. They declined, hurried to the store, and then hurried back home, giving the woman little more than a nod on the way back. When they got home, however, they found out that the bread they had bought was bad; they would have to go back to the store, and they didn’t want to because they knew that they would have to walk past the woman again. (Is that the way God works in our lives or what? “Sorry pal, you’re not getting off that easy. Don’t ignore Me. Go back and do My will.” Just my thoughts anyway).

On the way back from the store the 2nd time, they finally stopped and started to talk to the woman, just to let her know that they cared about her. They invited her back to their house where she could warm up a little and have a snack.

Back at the house, the woman started weeping and said, more of a statement than a question, “You’re Christians, aren’t you?”

The author was surprised that she had asked this because they had not said anything about Jesus or God or anything else, and their house didn’t have any Christian paraphernalia (crucifixes, Bibles, plastic fish, etc.) laying around to tip her off.

She said, “I know you’re Christians because you shine. I used to be a Christian. I used to shine like that, but the world is cold and dark, and it’s beaten me down and taken my shine away.”

Several months later, the author answered a knock at the door and found a woman he didn’t recognize standing in front of him who obviously knew who he was. Before he could say anything she spoke first, “I know you don’t recognize who I am. It’s because I’m shining again.”

In 40 years I have never impacted someone’s life in that way. It must be an amazing feeling. They changed this woman’s life! And they did it without hitting her over the head with a Bible or preaching the Gospels or shouting the name of Jesus Christ.

They talked to her.
They let her sit in their house and get warm.
They gave her a snack.
They shined.

I think that’s the same kind of thing that Potiphar and the jailer saw in Joseph. I think he simply shined. Maybe not in a physical, “visible aura around the head” kind of way, but some kind of inherent light that came from within him that people could just sense. He might not have even realized he was doing it, but because he was in such a close relationship with God, I don’t think he could have turned it off even if he had wanted to. It was just “there”, and anyone who looked at him could see it.

When Catherine & I first got married, we attended a church in downtown Orlando for several years. The church building itself was made of stone, constructed sometime in the early 1900’s, and it gave off a little of that “majesty” that older structures with stained glass windows can impart. You felt a little humbled in that building – like you were really, truly in God’s house – and the pastor was just incredible to listen to.

The congregation, however – the real church – left a little something to be desired. Most of the congregation was made up of successful businessmen, doctors, and lawyers, and we never did feel a lot of warmth during our time there. In fact, I think that when our family showed up on Sunday mornings in our 10 year old Grand Marquis that looked like it was worth every nickel of the $1,500 that we'd paid for it, a collective sigh went through the more well-to-do crowd that drove up in their new BMW’s, Mercedes’, and Cadillacs (which was just about everybody else).

In the 5 or 6 years we went there, I can only remember 3 people who ever treated us like, well, people. One was a sweet older lady who worked at the church, another was the man who ran the Sunday Schools, and the other was a young lawyer about my age named Pete.

When I think back, I was always a little curious about Pete. At the time, I was just some schlep working for a company that made sewer equipment, but Pete, he was a lawyer. Like many other members of the church, he had money, he had a prestigious job, he was in a different class altogether. And yet, he would always say hello to me or even come up to me and start talking like we were best friends.

Sometimes, I used to even wonder if he was patronizing me; you know, like that one popular person at school who’s nice to the geek because they feel sorry for them. But at the same time, I could tell – I could just tell – that that wasn’t what he was doing at all. The older lady and the Sunday School superintendent and Pete were all for real, they were simply shining. This “Jesus stuff” wasn’t just words on a page to them; they believed it, they lived it, they walked it. I imagine that they would have been surprised that I was surprised, because to them, it had to seem like the most natural thing in the world. How could they not shine?

Three people out of a church of a couple hundred. I’m happy to say that the percentage is a little higher at the church I am a part of now, but it still makes me wonder; how come we all aren’t shining? If we’ve really accepted Jesus Christ as our Saviour, if we’ve really made a true commitment to attempt to walk in His footsteps, and if we really believe that the light of Christ is in each and every one of us, how come we’re not all shining? I realize that the world can be a cold, dark place, and we all go through trying times where it wouldn’t be surprising that our shine might dim or flicker or even go out completely, but why are there so many Christians who don’t shine at all? Ever?

Do they really believe all of the “Jesus stuff” that they profess, or are they just going through the motions of superficially “accepting” Christ as a logical business decision because they heard salvation was free anyway and Hell sounded kind of scary?

I know that we cannot “buy” our salvation; it is given to us as a gift. I know too that “our works” will not get us into Heaven. But I wonder sometimes if we don’t preach those things a little too much, because knowing that I don’t have to “do” anything as a Christian to get to Heaven (since my salvation is free) sure gives me a good excuse not to do anything. But while my works will not get me into Heaven, I have to believe that they might help someone else get there.

I wonder sometimes if we, as Christians, don’t tend to focus on the parts of scripture that we like to hear, and ignore the parts that we don’t. We do read the parts that we don’t like of course, and when we do we nod our heads and say things that we know God & everyone else will like to hear like “Yes, yes, oh absolutely, without a doubt!”, but then we promptly forget what we read and go back to the parts that make us feel all warm and fuzzy, or the parts that we think justify our actions.

Funny that we should gloss over and downplay the role “our works” have in the big scheme of things, because Jesus sure does talk about them a lot. In fact, He spent a lot more time telling us what we should be doing than He did about how we get into Heaven, and though we seem to treat “our works” as optional, I can’t find anywhere in Bible where Jesus gave us a loophole.

Which comes back to the original question: Do we really believe this Jesus stuff? We say the words, we sing the songs, we speak with much reverence, but do we really believe it? Because if we do, how could we not do the things that Jesus has instructed us to do? If we have truly accepted Him as our Saviour instead of just making a superficial statement to cover our butt from the damnation of Hell, doing the things that Jesus told us to do wouldn’t be annoying burdens that we were trying to avoid, they would be natural expressions of our love – of His love – that we couldn’t stop doing even if we wanted to. We’d be shining. Whether we liked it or not.

Since I seem to have so much to say about this, you may be wondering if I shine. To be honest, I’m not really sure.

The movie Schindler’s List was brought to my attention recently, and as it had been 10 years or so since I’d originally watched it, I decided to check it out from the library and watch it again. (If you haven’t seen Schindler’s List, please know that while it is an incredible film, it earns every single bit of it’s “R” rating; definitely not for the kiddies or faint of heart).

What impressed me was that Oskar Schindler was not trying to be a hero. He was an opportunist, looking to exploit the war – and the Jews – for his own personal gain. His plan was to make as much money as fast as he could and then leave Krakow with his suitcases loaded with cash, and his plan worked to perfection. But he never left with the money. Instead, something happened to this self-serving, gold-digging womanizer that made him do something that would make him the most unlikely of heroes. Over the years, something happened to him. Something happened inside of him. But it took time.

I do believe that some people are “born again” in an instant, that one day they are “who they are” and the next they are someone completely different, but I know too that there are other people who never experience that sudden “bolt of the Holy Spirit” striking their souls in a sudden flash of righteousness. For some people, like Oskar Schindler, it takes time. I fall into this latter category.

I’ve always been a Christian, but I haven’t always lived it, and because of that fact, I have to think that I haven’t always really believed it. About 4 years ago, I really started to openly question what I was doing with my life and how I was living it. There was no specific day or time that I can put my finger on, just an approximate period when things started changing. I started changing. All of those things, those little clues, that I had been ignoring my whole life finally started getting some traction. I started to think about them; to think about what I valued, what I was doing, and how I was doing it. Even so, I still stubbornly refused to let go.

In late 2005, my career had reached newfound heights, with room yet to grow. No longer a schlep working for a sewer equipment manufacturer, I was now a sales manager at a global software company. I had a six-figure job, a title, status, respect; all of that good stuff. I drove to work in a red Corvette, crossed marble floors to a mahogany covered elevator that took me to a 4th floor office with a view of a manicured private golf course. I ate in some of the most expensive restaurants, attended conferences in luxury Las Vegas hotels, and vacationed with my family at our own cabin in the Georgia mountains.

And then one morning, quite unexpectedly, I blurted out something that I’ll never forget, something that surprised me as much as it did my boss, because even after the words had left my mouth I still couldn’t believe I had actually said them: I don’t think I want to do this anymore.

And everything changed.

So here I am, a “struggling writer” (oh! I’ve always wanted to be a “struggling” something!) living in a little town in the middle of nowhere. No big job, no fat paycheck, no marble floors, no vacation cabin in the woods.

I eat at McDonald’s now, or maybe Shoney’s or Cracker Barrel if I’m really upscaling it. I drive a 6 year old Ford Focus, if I drive at all. (In fairness, I have to confess that I do still have the Corvette. It’s currently sitting in a barn at my mom’s house, an unwanted relic of a past life. Hey, what can I tell you? When you’re running a little fishing empire the size that mine was, it takes awhile to cast down all of your nets. I had a lot of nets, and though the main warehouse has been cleaned out, there are still some back rooms [and a barn at my mom’s] that I still need to purge).

I know some people here think I’m crazy for leaving “all of that” and coming here instead. I can see the look in their eyes, their longing to break free of the “shackles” of a small town, to experience the “excitement” and “opportunity” of a big city. I can tell that many of them think they’re missing something. They are missing something, but it’s not what they think, and they probably wouldn’t believe me if I told them.

I’m not crazy, I’m finally sane. I’ve never felt so free. I’ve never been so happy. I’ve changed a lot.

But do I shine?

Well, I like to think that I do, but I’m not sure. Hopefully I have at least a little glow about me (or at least a persistent flicker) but even if I am shining, I also know that there’s still plenty of room yet to jack up the wattage. As much as I like looking in the mirror at the man I have become today, I still yearn for the man who I will be tomorrow.

God will take me there. I’m doing a better job of following now.

I think a lot of goofy thoughts sometimes. For instance, since I started bouncing ideas around in my head about this particular topic, a silly thought kept coming back into my mind, over and over. I kept thinking how cool it would be if we turned on the evening news at night and saw that all of the major networks were following a story that nobody could explain.

A new story, something no one had ever seen before, something that had started fairly recently but was showing no signs of slowing down; in fact, seemed to be growing as more and more people were attracted to it like moths to a flame. A trend that had all of “the experts” baffled as they continued to witness hundreds of millions of Christians around the world all acting like the Christ they profess to believe in. A trend in which the sheer number of “insignificant” acts of Christian charity, love, and kindness going on in the world were causing supercomputers to melt down as they tried to keep track of them all.

A trend in which all of the people involved somehow looked – as incredible as it may sound – almost as if there was a light coming off of them.

Instead of seeing all of those tired, old headlines on the TV screen like “The War in Iraq” or “Decision ‘08”, each night the world was looking at a new headline regarding this worldwide phenomenon that, for lack of a better name, they simply referred to as “The Shining”.

I don’t know. Maybe I am crazy.

“In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.” - John 1:4

The Devil is in the Details

Note: My wife, Catherine, posted this article on her blog about a year ago, but I thought it might be interesting to post it again for anyone who hasn't read it. Most people who have read this article agreed with it overwhelmingly, but I have received some criticism as well (interestingly, most of the criticism was regarding a matter of detail, which made me wonder if they understood what I was really trying to say in the first place). As always, I make no claims to being "right"; these are just some thoughts that I've had on this particular subject. Whether you agree with me or not isn't the point; the fact that you thought about it one way or the other is.


From the book "Finding Liberty".

As I would suspect is the case throughout all of America, churches here in Casey County, KY have an alarming lack of youth showing up on Sunday mornings. In the fall of 2006, a group of musicians attempted to counter that trend by sponsoring a Christian rock concert here in our little corner of the world. It was meant as a bridge, a means of reaching out to the youth of our area and connecting with them at the place where they happen to be.

The next week, a scathing letter to the editor appeared in our local paper denouncing the event, saying that there is nothing “Christian” about rock music and that it is instead an instrument of the devil. The writer went on to condemn long hair also; saying that Christian men wear their hair short and neatly trimmed.

This letter touched off a minor firestorm, and letters quickly dominated the editor’s page as people voiced their opinions on the topic and argued their case for or against. A scripture was fired off across the bow. A broadside of other scriptures were shot back. The vast majority of letters were written in a kind, loving way, but many were much more opinionated and damning.

This went on for 2 months.

All of the people who sounded off their opinions in this little episode were Christians, none of whom were willing to budge from their own predetermined personal convictions, and who, if anything, now cling to them even more tightly than before.

The question I have is not whether you think Christian rock is right or wrong, or whether Christian men should have short hair. The question is this: In what way did all of these Christians move God’s kingdom forward by publicly bickering & squabbling amongst themselves - because that was certainly how it appeared - on the pages of a newspaper read by hundreds of people, many of whom are not Christians?

Because if I’m a non-Christian reading those letters week after week, I’ve got to be thinking to myself something along the lines of, “Are you kidding me? These are the people who say I’m lost? These are the people who tell me how wonderful it is to be a Christian because of all of the love that Jesus Christ has brought into their lives? These are the people who say I’m wrong and they’re right? That they know the one true God? They can’t even agree on something as insignificant as the length of your hair!”

The sad part is, they would be wholly justified in thinking those thoughts. I mean, why would anyone want to be a part of a group like that, especially when there are plenty of ready alternatives that are so much more appealing.

A year or so ago a very devout Christian woman saw a teenage girl at the mall walking with her mother. The girl was dressed, as dozens of other girls walking around the mall that day were, in the current fashion of the day; a “Britney Spears” ensemble of blue jeans, t-shirt, and bare mid-rift. The exception was that the shirt that this particular girl was wearing also had the letters “WWJD?” emblazoned on the front.

The Christian woman was offended, and proceeded to walk over to the girl and denounce her publicly - in front of her mother, in front of everyone - for not being dressed as a proper Christian should be.

Since this story was related to me, I’ve often wondered what became of that young girl. A young girl at a very impressionable stage in her life. A time when, consciously or not, she is choosing role models and mentors to guide her, making decisions that, unbeknownst to her, will affect the entire course that her life will take, and in the process, forming for herself a set of opinions and beliefs that she will carry with her for years to come.

However “wrong” this young girl may or may not have been in her “Christian attire”, at least she wasn’t afraid to associate herself with the name “Jesus”. How many teenage girls have the guts to do even that? And if she maybe wasn’t a “proper” Christian, at least she had a foot on the right path; a path that over time would have eventually made her realize all by herself that, among other things, perhaps her attire was not appropriate. I have to wonder if Christ is still a part of her life now, or if He instead is closed away forever behind a door that was slammed shut in a shopping mall.

There’s a saying I read once that states, “Don’t speak unless you can improve the silence.” Was the silence improved here?

I think that that Christian woman - as well as all of the people who weighed in with their letters to the editor regarding the concert - were well meaning. I’m sure they had good intentions. But the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and if the end result is that a couple miles of interstate was constructed in that direction because of these incidents, does anything change just because “we didn’t mean for that to happen”?

We talk a lot about the evil that Satan does in the world, but I’m not so sure Satan is really that busy anymore. I see him more like a Maytag repairman; highly skilled in his art, but not a whole lot to do at the moment. All of us Christians seem to be doing a pretty good job of doing his work for him. Fussing, arguing, judging, and rebuking amongst ourselves. Apparently not content with just keeping non-believers away from God, we take it a step further and slice our fellow Christians to ribbons before throwing the unsightly trash of their being out of our self-righteous front door.

And for what? Oh, that’s the kicker! For a detail. A detail that we can’t even prove is correct, that doesn’t even necessarily have anything to do with anything, but one which we have decided to embrace and defend at all costs. We’ve all heard the old saying, “can’t see the forest for the trees”, and that’s what these individual details are; separate and distinct trees that are part of a much larger whole. But in our obsession over one or two of these details that we feel so strongly about, we will blindly exalt and protect them, and all the while remain blissfully ignorant of the rest of the forest, even as it burns to the ground around us.

That may seem a little harsh. I mean, we’re only talking about 2 small instances here, and we are only human after all. We know we will stumble and fall sometimes. But surely we – Christians – do much more good than bad. In the larger scheme of things, these incidents themselves are merely a couple of minor “details” aren’t they? Is it possible that I’m simply making a mountain out of a molehill?

Maybe. Each molehill by itself is certainly rather small, but what happens when you pile them all together? Because there sure are a lot of them:
How to conduct Baptisms, the rapture, alcohol consumption, head coverings, modest dresses for women, what music to listen to, hair length, body piercings/tattoos, what foods we’re supposed to eat, church attendance, anointing with oil, what day is the real Sabbath, speaking in tongues, attire at church, predestination, working on Sunday, laying on of hands . . . folks, I’m just getting started. Pick your poison, identify your detail, and I guarantee you’ll find Christians somewhere fighting about it with other Christians.

Note that I’m not saying we should relax what we believe in, or water down our faith so that it “feels good” to everybody. I’ll talk about that later. But for now, just realize the damage that we do to ourselves – and everyone else – when we allow these individual details to become more important than the larger whole that they are a part of.

United we stand, divided we fall.

You can say whatever you want about the Catholic church, but like it or hate it, one thing is for sure; for the first 1500 years after Christ’s death & resurrection, if you were a Christian, you were a Catholic.Note 1 In other words, regardless of what differences of opinion Christians in the Catholic church had with each other, regardless of whether or not the hierarchy of the church was corrupt from power and money, at least all of the Christians in the world were on the same team. But from the moment Martin Luther posted his 95 thesis’ on the church door, we have allowed our differences of opinion and our varying interpretations of the same book to divide us further and further upon ourselves.

I’m not saying that Luther was wrong for doing what he did; far from it. But have things gotten any better since the reformation? It’s not as simple as saying “Catholic” and “Protestant”, because there isn’t just “one” protestant church. You’ve got the Methodists, the Baptists, the Presbyterians, the Lutherans, and the Episcopalians. Then there’s the Jehovah’s Witnesses, the Mormons, the Seventh Day Adventists, and the Church of Christ. And don’t forget the Quakers, the Puritans, the Shakers, and the Amish. That’s about all, right? Doesn’t seem too bad.

But you already know that’s not even close. Although that’s 13 separate denominations right there, there are plenty more where they came from. And once you get a complete list (if you can), take a closer look at each one. Just in the classification of “Baptist” churches you have Southern Baptist, American Baptist, Primitive Baptist, Full Gospel Baptist, Separate Baptist, Independent Baptist, and so on. Push on to the Presbyterians and you’ll see there isn’t just one of those either. Ditto for the Lutherans. Ditto for the Methodists. And don’t even bother to try to get a headcount of all of the “non-denominational” churches out there. You’ll hurt yourself.

How many protestant denominations are there? I have no idea. I’ve seen estimates ranging from 35 to 23,000 (yes, that was 23 thousand). I don’t think anybody really knows. Just throw a dart; you’re bound to hit something.

Why so many? They’re all worshipping the same God, aren’t they? They all use the same Bible, don’t they? Yes, and yes. The divisions come from disagreement, and the disagreements are all on varying details. Details of method. Details of style. Details of interpretation.

Who’s to say who is right and who is wrong? After all, do any of us actually have the ability to see into the mind of God? To say for sure that “This is what God meant. Everybody else is wrong”. As with any argument, it soon degenerates into being more about who is right than what is right. Winner take all.

Details have not just divided the Christian church, but have splintered it into hundreds - possibly even thousands - of disconnected fragments. Was this done for God’s sake or mankind’s? Whose kingdom did this fragmentation of the Christian church serve better, God’s or Satan’s? And does it make any difference whether that’s what we intended to do or not?

I go back to what that young girl in the mall had on her shirt; a catch-phrase that was pretty popular a few years ago. WWJD?: What would Jesus do? It’s a shame that this little question came and went as little more than a fad, because it’s a powerful question, one that we would all do better for remembering and continuously asking ourselves.

What would Jesus do?

Details? I don’t think Jesus cared a whole lot about details. You can see His disdain for meaningless details throughout the gospels: Not enough loaves and fishes to feed the multitude? So what. A minor detail. Too late to heal the little girl because she’s already dead? Don’t worry about it. Want to get baptized but can’t because you’re already hanging on a cross? “Truly I say to you, today you shall be with Me in Paradise.”

True, Jesus was detailed about some things. His entry into Jerusalem, for instance, was very specific regarding his mode of transport and his lodging. I don’t know the significance of why He was so specific in that case, but I know He had his reasons, and in some way those details served His purpose. And that’s where I think the difference lies; do the details that we embrace serve His purpose, or ours? Are we so focused on the details themselves that we are completely missing the spirit behind them? Have the details become more important to us than God Himself?

Jesus’ run-ins with the Pharisees, Sadducees, and scribes are very interesting. These were all people who knew the details of the law, and they held themselves in very high regard. Like vultures they would hover around Jesus, just waiting for Him to slip up so that they could pounce:

Eating with tax collectors and sinners! (Matt 9:11)
Not fasting! (Matt 9:14)
Working on the Sabbath! (Matt 12:2)
Not washing His hands before He eats! (Matt 15:2)
And so on, and so on.

Every confrontation between Jesus and these men was a matter of some detail. When you think about it, Jesus was really quite the maverick. He was constantly crossing over these lines in the sand - these details - and stepping on the toes of those who held them so dear. And I think in His actions He makes it quite clear that it’s not the details that matter, but the heart behind them.

Jesus warns us in several of the gospels to beware “the yeast of the Pharisees”, and He makes it quite clear how He feels about the Pharisees, Sadducees, and scribes in Matthew 23, the entire chapter of which is devoted to them, albeit probably not in the manner they would have preferred.

“But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, because you shut off the kingdom of heaven from men; for you do not enter in yourselves, nor do you allow those who are entering to go in.” - Matt 23:13

But I think we’re making a big mistake if we think that Jesus is simply talking to a bunch of men who all died 2,000 years ago. He’s talking to us, because every one of us has the potential to become a Pharisee just as soon as we allow the focus of our hearts & minds to slip away from the righteousness of God and become instead centered on the righteousness of ourselves, a condition which quickly leads us to begin judging others on matters of detail. And when our hearts & minds shift away from the Lord, like Peter we suddenly find ourselves sinking into the waves.

I look at Christianity as a mountain to climb. On the mountain are all of those who have accepted Christ as their personal savior. Some have been climbing that mountain for a long time, others have just begun. Some move more quickly up the slopes, while others have a more difficult time. But while we may all be scattered across the face of that mountain, and though some of us have made higher ground, we all have one thing in common: we are all trying to reach the top.

The interesting thing is that none of us can reach the top on our own. In the end, the summit can only be reached through the saving grace of Jesus Christ. What is important is not where we are on that mountain, but that we are on the mountain. Because as long as we are, it makes no difference to what heights we might ascend to as Christians in this life; as long as we are on that mountain - anywhere on it - the hand of the Savior can ultimately reach down to us and pull us to the top when we expire from this earth.

It’s interesting that in any other group of people – doctors, lawyers, athletes, soldiers, etc. – we inherently know that there are wide variations of skill and ability within those groups. I’ve personally known salesmen who were so good they could literally sell you your own shirt and make you think you got a great deal. I’ve also known others who couldn’t give away a glass of water to a man dying of thirst. Yet they both wore the badge of “Salesman”. In any group of like minded people, due to knowledge, experience, ethic, mental comprehension – whatever - some are simply better than others.

But have you noticed that that reasoning doesn’t seem to apply to those who put on the badge of “Christian”. As soon as someone becomes a Christian, they are immediately held to the same standard by which all other Christians are measured. It’s bad enough that secular society holds us in that regard, but to make matters worse, we do the same thing with each other.

The problem is that we are all at different levels in our climb up that mountain. Those on the lower slopes need help – not animosity – from those who are higher up. The climb is tough enough as it is without all of us shooting arrows at each other, targeting, judging, & rebuking those who have not reached the point where we happen to be, or maybe more appropriately, where we think we happen to be. The first thing we as Christians need to do is to encourage those who are on the beginner slopes to keep climbing, not give them a reason to turn around and give up.

Once we’ve got that taken care of, the second thing we need to do is to get the attention of those who are not yet on the mountain at all, and give them a good reason to want to check it out.

Because stretching out below the foot of the mountain are the flat plains of secular living. Lots of people on those plains, and it’s pretty easy living there – no mountains to climb, no standards to uphold, no boring accountability to worry about – and there’s plenty to keep you occupied. Neon lights, parties, raucous laughter; drugs, booze, sex, & money flow like a never-ending river.

Some of the folks on the plains are firmly rooted; they’re staying put. But there are scores more who are asking themselves questions. They’re very busy there, they’re having loads of fun, but they feel hollow and unfulfilled. They often look over at this mountain and see all of these people climbing it. Why? Sure seems like a lot of work. They get curious and walk over to it’s base. What will they see? Will they be greeted with a smiling face and a wave? Will someone say to them, “Hi there! Join us, won’t you? I know it looks hard, but you’ll never regret it. C’mon! We’ll help you!” Or will someone look down on them from the heights of self righteousness and say “Get away! You’re filthy and you’re dirty and you reek. I know what you’ve been doing! We don’t want your kind here.”

Last Sunday in church there was a young boy – probably 10 or 11 – who was sitting in the pew in front of me. I’d never seen him before and he was sitting there by himself. He had an earring in his ear and a definite look of attitude on his face. His behavior was atrocious; wiggling & squirming, putting his feet up on the pew in front of him, laying down, kicking the hymnals back and forth in their holder. Not only was he not listening to a word being said, but he was disturbing others around him, distracting us from focusing on the sermon.

In all honesty, I didn’t like the boy. I wanted to give him a good smack upside his head and tell him to put his feet on the floor, sit still, and show a little respect to God in His own house.

But in a moment of restraint that is unfortunately all too rare in my life, I actually stopped and thought about the situation before I acted. I told my inner Pharisee to just shut up for a minute and let me figure out what I should do. I wanted this young boy to behave, yes, but that’s only what I wanted, and I wasn’t even sure if I could say or do anything to accomplish that end. More importantly, I started to think about what God wanted for this boy.

True, his behavior was deplorable, he wasn’t listening to a thing being said, and he was annoying those around him. But he was in church. He was in church because our Youth Minister had somehow convinced him to come, and had taken the time to go pick him up and bring him. So what if he didn’t know how to act in church; so what if he didn’t know or care what it was all about. He had probably never even been to church before. But he was there now. He was at the foot of the mountain. Was I willing to take the chance of breaking God’s tenuous hold of this young boy and send him away from the mountain before he could even find out what it was all about simply because he was annoying me?

In the end, I did nothing. Despite it all, he was at church. Let him come back to church again. And again. Let him realize that church is not a bad place, that the people he sees here will not judge him or hold him to a standard he isn’t ready for. And after he’s been there a few times and starts to feel a little more comfortable, maybe someone comes up to him and says something like, “You know young man, it’s great to see you here. We love that we get to spend some time with you. Could I ask you a favor, though? I’ve noticed that during the church service you sometimes put your feet up on the pew in front of you. There are some folks here who get a little distracted by that. Do you think maybe you could help them out and just kind of keep your feet on the floor? That would be so great of you if you could do that. I really appreciate it.”

And with a few kind words, a lesson is learned and a young boy takes another step toward the mountain.

I wonder what would have been different if that person who wrote the condemning letter about the Christian rock concert had said instead, “I just wanted to say “thank you” to all the men and women who took the time to reach out to the youth of our community and hold the Christian rock concert. I don’t care for rock music or long hair myself, but it was refreshing to see that someone cared enough to actually do something to fight for these young people. Your efforts have inspired me to get off of my behind and do something myself! Would anyone like to help me?”

I think the enemy just blinked.

I wonder what would have been different if the Christian woman in the mall had checked her desire to berate that young girl and instead said something along the lines of “Young lady, I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you for not being afraid to associate yourself with Jesus Christ. You don’t know it, but your actions are making other young women look at you and wonder what it is you know that they don’t. I wish you all the best in your walk as a Christian. Please don’t ever give up!”

Oh, my. I do believe Satan just sat up and dropped the remote control.

* * *

Author’s Note: Several weeks after I wrote this, that young boy I mentioned earlier accepted Christ as his Savior and was baptized. While I did nothing myself to help bring that about, you have no idea the relief that I feel for not doing anything that might have prevented it from happening. I had an opportunity to finally speak with him a short time later; he seemed surprised that everyone knew his name. I said, “Why shouldn’t everyone know your name? You are important.” No big shakes, I know, but how much better for him to hear that instead of the “Shut up and sit still!” that I might have said earlier.


Note 1: An earlier division in 1054 had already split the Catholic church into “Eastern Orthodox” and “Roman”, but the real free-for-all didn’t start until 1517. I am also not considering the many unorthodox sects (Gnostics, Ebionites, etc.) that existed during those times.

Countdown to 1984

(from the book "Finding Liberty")

Author's Note: This article, along with the previously posted "In Dependence", form the basis of the storyline for my upcoming novel "What So Proudly We Hailed". I decided to post this one as well because the two articles kind of go together (this one coming first). I apologize if it sounds too political; I make no claim to knowing what I'm talking about and I hope that the two articles together do not prejudice anyone's perception about the remaining articles, stories, & essays included in "Finding Liberty" (the overwhelming majority of which are thoughtful & positive), but if the subject matter of these two articles is of interest to you, then you may also be interested in "What So Proudly We Hailed" which, while not being a "happy" read, attempts to show a future that I believe is not so very preposterous at all. So please accept my apologies for the shameless book plug, and know that I will make every attempt in the future to simply post what I hope will be thoughts ranging from the inspiring to the downright silly. I'm really not quite this paranoid in real life.


In 1945, George Orwell’s Animal Farm gave a simple yet realistic account of Stalinist communism, including an eerily accurate description of what its condition would degenerate to by the time of its collapse more than 40 years later. Not only did Orwell get more right than not with his depiction, but many of the examples of the slow & systematic governmental decay that he used to illustrate the novel can be seen with glaring clarity in institutions of government all over the world, including our own.

One year before his death in 1950, Orwell’s 1984 was first published. Like Animal Farm, it also dealt with a totalitarian government, but in this novel, we do not see the steady decay over time. Instead, total corruption is shown to have already reached its apex, except that in this instance, the government is not about to allow itself to lose its power. 1984 depicted a nightmarish world where war was constant, thought was an arrestable offense, love was outlawed, individuality did not exist, and Big Brother watched your every move. If Animal Farm showed how a government corrupts itself, 1984 showed what that corrupted government can create.

In it’s day, 1984’s depiction of the future was the topic of much discussion, and there was a good deal of speculation as to how correct Orwell’s vision of the future might really be, regardless of how impossible it seemed at the time. As the real year 1984 came and went, it was generally concluded by all – myself included - that Orwell had missed the mark quite badly. 23 years later, I’m not so sure. In fact, today I think it is much more likely that the only thing he really “missed” badly was the year itself.

As I reread 1984 again last month, I was struck by something that was mentioned near the very beginning of the book, something that I would never have noticed upon my first reading a generation ago; flat-screen TV’s that hang on the wall. We didn’t have flat-screen TV’s that hung on the wall in 1984, I thought. No, we didn’t. But we do now. Granted, unlike the novel, we have the ability to turn ours off if we so choose, but I have to wonder, will that always be the case?

My curiosity sparked, I started looking for other things in the novel that didn’t exist 23 years ago, and as I continued to read, my list grew alarmingly long. To make matters worse, most of the things that I stumbled across were not even mere physical devices, but instead were things that were much more vague and disturbing. Things that fell into the categories of “guideline”, “policy”, and “practice”. And all of them not only seem to be universally expected in today’s world, but also accepted as well.

One of the first “unthinkable” premises presented in 1984 is the one in which everyone is being watched. “Big Brother”, while an invented imaginary head of state, has the very real ability to see and hear everything that you are doing. Anytime, anywhere. At the time of it’s publication in 1949, I imagine this idea had to appear almost laughable. In the year 1984, perhaps not so laughable as far-fetched. Today, even the most ardent skeptic would have to admit to a certain amount of truth to the concept, albeit maybe at present still in a more limited, primitive capacity.

But when was the last time you stopped to really think about the level at which we are being watched today?

It’s well known that if you have a TiVo, all forms of data on your viewing habits can be collected. If you have a satellite dish receiver connected to a phone jack, customer service technicians can access it. And if you have internet access, any educated hacker has a free pass into every file on your computer. Even with firewalls, how can we prevent access into our homes if those wanting access are the very ones who created the firewalls for us? TiVo’s, dish receivers, internet . . . none of those things or the potential capabilities they provide existed in 1984. But they do now.

We are being videotaped on the highway, in stores, at bank ATM’s, in parking lots, and at many other times when we might least expect it and possibly never know it. Today, not only can we be photographed, videotaped, and/or recorded with a discreet cell phone, but that information can then be sent anywhere in the world with the touch of a button.

E-mails, credit card transactions, internet surfing, electronic purchases, toll-road speed passes - just to name a few – all leave traceable paths of our whereabouts and habits. We now have GPS trackable computer chips that are being encouraged for implanting into our pets, that have been mandated for use with farm animals (Note 1), and in some cases voluntarily used in people. As far back as 2001, the U.S. government has been floating the idea of using computer chips as part of a universal ID card program for all U.S. citizens, and the option of physically inserting trackable computer chips into the bodies of military personnel is already on the drawing board. I wonder, should that experiment come to pass and be “successful”, how long until it does not seem like a good idea to do with everyone?

And don’t be too quick to brush this off with the notion that most of the above “data collection” is taken in by private companies or disparate organizations. As we continue to see more and more separate corporations merge into near monolithic entities, along with their influence & power over government agencies increasing in proportion to the wealth they have available, how long before most of those “non-government” companies become little more than a branch of government itself, in action if not in name? Is it unreasonable to assume that many are in bed with each other already, and have been for some time?

Most of the above abilities to “watch” people did not exist in the year 1984. It makes me wonder then to what level this continuous erosion of privacy by means of technology will reach 23 years from now.

Another major tenet in 1984 is the need for a perpetual state of war, an endeavor which in Orwell’s world is no longer used to conquer other peoples, but has become instead a tool to control your own. War is a means to use up all surplus of production so that the citizens become more dependant on the government. It is used to incite unquestioning patriotism to frenzied levels, to prohibit travel so that interaction with other peoples is prevented, to grant supreme governmental authority to enact whatever it deems necessary for the “protection” of it’s citizens, and ultimately to provide a distraction for every citizen to keep them from thinking about anything else.

Of course, a government entering into a perpetual state of war is a ludicrous concept. Surely the now 6 year old “war on terror” will ultimately come to a successful conclusion, won’t it? It’s unconscionable to think that anyone would think of using it as a tool for any of the above purposes, isn’t it? And certainly we would place strict limits on any intrusions that might be requested of our own freedoms and constitutional rights, wouldn’t we?

A third reality of Orwell’s 1984 world is the existence of the “Thought Police”, a clandestine government organization whose sole purpose is to seek out those who are having thoughts – any thoughts – that go against party doctrine. I admit, even the name “Thought Police” sounds ridiculous, much less the concept, and I can only imagine what people must have thought in 1949. After all, even today, how could anyone be caught, much less punished, simply for what they were thinking? I would guess that several hundred potential terrorists being held captive at Guantanamo Bay on the grounds of "what they were thinking" might not agree that it is so outlandish a notion.

I know, I know – that’s different. Of course it is, and in all honesty, I have to agree. But that’s how it happens: with a first step. A first justified step. But is it really implausible to foresee that envelope of premeditation expanding over time to include other offenses? If, for example, sometime in the future I make some anti-government statements on a phone call that is being monitored by the NSA, and I also have a gun registered in my name, and my electronic trail shows definite movement towards Washington D.C., can anyone guarantee that I won’t be arrested on the premise that I might possibly intend to perform an act of terrorism against the government?

Because ultimately, all of these things that are mentioned in 1984 work together for one purpose: control. Those who have the power want to keep the power, and they will keep that power as long as they can control the masses, and therefore they will take any and all steps necessary to accomplish that task. While that may sound paranoid, I think we would all be better off not to underestimate how strong the lure of power really is. As a motivator, power trumps even money. After all, if you have power, who needs money?

There is a lot more to 1984 than I can effectively translate here; the similarities between the story’s “Newspeak” language and the vernacular that has evolved out of our own instant messaging & email, the subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) twisting of historical events, the bombardment of our senses with media messages at every turn . . . there are so many parallels it would take another book to adequately compare them all. In Orwell’s world, all of these things intertwine together to create a beast against which there is no power on earth big enough to conquer. I have to wonder why I should believe that these things would create anything different in our own.

So, knowing that the world of 1984 isn’t something that anyone wants (other than those who would be in power), why do we allow movement in that general direction to continue? There are at least 4 reasons.

First is that the movement is too slow, and the various interlocking pieces too unconnected, to really notice. It’s a simple case of letting the camel get his nose in the tent. The initial intrusion isn’t very bothersome, and a good excuse for allowing it can always be made. Later, when a hoof makes an inevitable appearance, this new intrusion by itself still isn’t anything to get all worked up about, and again we are provided with a reasonable justification for it. In addition, there is nothing to make us automatically associate the hoof with the nose; we treat them independently as different things in different places at different times. Finally, as time continues to march onward, we simply forget how things used to be.

There was a time, for instance, when income tax did not exist. In fact, for over half of our country’s existence, we were somehow able to survive without it. It was not until the passing of the 16th amendment in 1913 that a permanent tax on personal income was imposed, and then at only 1% (Note 2). Anyone still paying 1%? I have never known a world without income tax, or what life might have been like before it. And since there has always been income tax in my lifetime, as far as I’m concerned, there has always been income tax. How could I really see it any other way? The truth of the past does not change the reality of the present, so is the truth even really true anymore?

Secondly, we sometimes allow these things to happen because we actually want them, and in some cases even initiate the demand ourselves. The convenience that they provide us today outweighs any potential negative consequences that the future might hold. Sure, a cell phone can be tracked with GPS, but I can live with that as long as I can talk to someone whenever I want right now. Yes, letting an unseen technician access my home through my TV receiver might be a little unsettling if I thought about it, but I don’t feel like trying to fix it myself, and I’m so happy that I don’t have to fix it myself that my mind is too occupied with how happy I am to ponder the ramifications very much.

Third, we are lulled into allowing these erosions of privacy and freedom because they are pronounced as “for our own good”. Like carrots they are dangled in front of us under the auspices of our own protection, personal safety, or health, and like piglets to the sow, we accept them willingly because we have in many cases already forgotten how to think for ourselves.

And finally - and probably most disturbing – there is plain old apathy. We see what is going on and fully realize the significance of it, but we simply turn a blind eye and go about our own business, usually with the justification that there is “nothing I can do about it”. Perhaps more realistic might be “nothing I want to do about it”.

Well Gee, Blaine, thanks a lot for killing my buzz. I was actually having a pretty good day until I read this. Not so fast! This isn’t a doom & gloom article, it’s simply a perspective of a future that might possibly happen. It certainly doesn’t need to.

When I think about all of the truly great changes that have occurred in our history - whether they be physical inventions, policies, practices, laws, or whatever - I can’t help but notice that all of them almost overwhelmingly occurred because there was a problem that needed to be fixed. After all, if there is nothing wrong, there is nothing to make us think anything needs to be different than what it is.

As much as we might complain about the problems that we have in our lives, problems are the catalysts that inspire change. Those who understand that opportunity almost always comes knocking disguised as a problem are usually the ones who are able to take advantage of it (while the rest of us sit back and bemoan our bad fortune).

So if we are headed towards some type of unwanted Orwellian future, all we need to do is first recognize that there actually is a problem. Second, we need to realize that problems have solutions, and finding the solution is actually an opportunity to make things better. And third, we need to take some action to make the solution a reality. If those 4 reasons that I mentioned are in fact how we got into the problem, we simply cannot allow them to continue to happen. We have to start noticing what is happening around us, we have to stop accepting (or even asking for!) things that lead us away from God’s word, we have to start questioning for ourselves what is “for our own good” and what is not, and we have to be unafraid - and willing - to do something about it.

The good news is that that is already happening, and has been for several years. The “silent majority”, tolerant to a fault for so long, has begun to push back. Resistance – peaceful but firm resistance – is taking place all over America.

Regarding education, for instance, if you are homeschooling your children, you have already taken action in joining a growing group of millions of other parents who have politely but firmly said “No, thank you”, and have become part of an even larger group of people who, though they may not homeschool, are in full agreement that our educational system is broken and are also taking action of their own. Like so many things, it may seem like the process is excruciatingly slow, but history will undoubtedly show that it “all happened within a few short decades”.

Women that have left the workforce to be homemakers – a group that is also continually growing - have quietly made their position known to a befuddled and increasingly agitated establishment that they do not wish to participate in someone else’s version of what life should be.

In doing so, they have become role models to other women in that they are leading by example; showing that it is not only possible, but also absolutely acceptable, to move in a direction that your heart compels you to, rather than to be badgered into going down another road by a deafening but ultimately powerless group of people who will tell you with their mouths that they have your best interests at heart even as their hands are busy pushing their own agendas.

Those are just two examples of things – many things – that are already beginning to turn us away from a path that would otherwise lead us into a future similar to the fictional but possible world of 1984. And not to be overly optimistic, but why shouldn’t we think that we can be entirely successful? After all, Jesus told us that with God, all things are possible. In the face of that - if we choose to believe it - Orwell simply doesn’t stand a chance.



Note 1: for more information, go to www.usda.gov/nais/. Additionally, please refer also to stopanimalid.org and NoNAIS.org for alternative viewpoints.

Note 2: only for individuals making more than $3,000 annually. Additional surcharges from 2% to 7% were levied on incomes over $20,000.

In Dependence

(from the book “Finding Liberty”)

I had a disturbing experience the other day. Our little bottom-of-the-line printer that we use in our home office suddenly died. Since this piece of equipment is pretty important in the day to day running of our business, I headed out to Office Depot to pick up the latest & greatest bottom-of-the-line model.

At the checkout counter, the clerk rang up my total and I wrote him a check. He scanned it, pushed some buttons, and then said “Here’s your receipt, and here’s your check back, all voided out for you.”

I looked at the check in my hand for a moment – the one I had just finished writing out - and asked, “You don’t even send these in to the bank anymore?”

“Oh no,” he replied, “The transactions are all done electronically now.”

I rode home in the car very unsettled, asking myself the following questions: If my bank account is going to be debited instantly even when I write a check, why am I purchasing checks and taking the time to fill them out and sign them in the first place? What’s the difference between that and just using a debit card, other than the fact that I’m spending more money and time by going through the motions of using checks?

That’s what disturbed me, because there isn’t one. Funny, my bank never bothered to clarify that particular point to me.

Catherine & I don’t use debit cards for one simple reason: If someone were to steal my credit card information and then use that to make purchases, I can always dispute the charges and refuse to pay them. My money is still mine, and I’m in charge of it. But if someone were to steal my debit card information and then use that to make purchases, the money comes directly out of my own bank account. Sure, I can dispute the charges, but the money – my money - has already been spent. I would no longer be in a position to dispute whether or not I wanted to pay (I already have paid); I would instead be wholly at the mercy of the bank, completely subordinate to their decision of whether or not to restore my funds.

I have never known banks to be very receptive to the idea of giving money to people.

The next day while watching TV, I saw a commercial showing a bunch of people in a store all smartly moving about as they made their purchases; a picture of streamlined efficiency, convenience, and happiness. And then someone came to the counter and wanted to pay with cash, and like throwing a wrench into rotating machinery, everything crashed to a halt. Cash? You want to pay with cash?

The commercial – for whatever credit or debit card it was promoting – was obviously trying to tout the convenience & ease of using it’s product. But the underlying message it was telling anyone who saw it was very clear and very direct: Cash is bad, plastic cards are good. If you use a card, things run smoothly, quickly, and everyone is happy. If you use cash, you just mess things up for everyone else. You are behind the times, archaic & un-cool, and your insistence on using money shows a complete lack of courtesy for others.

Everything these days seems to be oriented towards “faster”, “easier”, and “automatic”, and with regards to money, it seems as if the movement - if that is what it is – is pushing harder and harder to get everyone to buy into their methods. Visa is now promoting it’s “smart card”. Just wave it at the scanner as you go by; no need to waste all that time signing your name on a receipt. Everybody wants you to do your business online; pay your bills, do your banking, send in your tax return. “Save a stamp!” they say. “It’s so much easier and convenient for you!” Or even better, “We’ll pay your bills for you! Just sign up and all of that will be debited from your account each month automatically!”

So much of our purchases are now done without the exchange of any actual cash, that using cash has actually become more of the exception than the norm. During the holidays I was in line at a K-Mart picking up a few gifts for the kids. A lady in line several places ahead of me made a large purchase and paid cash for it. It was amazing how everyone in line – including me – was just kind of staring at her as she peeled away twenty dollar bills from a wad of cash in her hand. And I know that all of us were thinking the same kinds of things: “Boy, that’s a lot of cash.” “Why is she making such a large purchase with cash?” “Where did she get all that cash?” It was so weird to witness! But the really crazy thing was that even though people after her made purchases that were far in excess of hers, nobody batted an eye when they used their credit cards!

Have we become so separated from reality that purchasing something outright instead of borrowing to pay later is now considered strange and abnormal? Doesn’t that seem a little backwards?

We live in a world today where you could – quite easily – go through your entire existence and never actually see or touch any money at all. Ever. Every purchase you make could be made without any cash whatsoever, and more and more, paying without cash is becoming the preferred way. Is there a day coming when that will be the only way? A day when not only will cash no longer be accepted, but will not even exist?
That is a day to fear.

I’m going to take you on a little trip here, and throw out a little factual information and quite a bit of speculation. It may seem a little paranoid, and I’ll admit that it does to me as well. But whether or not you give any credence to the “whys” of what I’m going to explore, it doesn’t change the outcome of the “whats”.

Some of this will play into things that people have said for years regarding conspiracies, secret societies, and hidden agendas; I don’t know what’s true and what’s not any more than the next guy, but I can observe what is happening even if there is no way to positively confirm why. So humor me a little; all I want to do is spark your own brain into doing some thinking of it’s own; you’re just as capable of that as I am. I would ask though, that as you’re considering these things, please keep the following thought in mind: If you’re crossing the street and you get hit by a car and die, would it really make any difference to you whether the driver of the car did it on purpose or if it was a complete accident?

The Federal Reserve
In 1913, the Federal Reserve Act was passed by congress and signed by President Woodrow Wilson, thereby transferring the power to control the creation & management of currency from the US government to a private corporation of bankers. The plan itself was originated by a group of 7 of the richest men in the world at that time. As of December 2006, the US national debt is over 8 trillion dollars. More than 40% of that is owed to the Federal Reserve. (Perhaps connected or perhaps not, 1913 was also the year that the 16th Amendment was passed by Congress, imposing a federal income tax on the wages of US citizens).

Think about that for a moment. The Federal Reserve is a private company - not a branch of the United States government – run by a small group of elite bankers. Can you even begin to imagine how much power this company has over the United States? Start with the simple things, like inflation. Since we haven’t been on the gold standard in decades, any money that is printed has nothing behind it; it is created out of thin air. Put more money into circulation to increase the supply, and the value of the US dollar drops, creating inflation. Take money out of circulation and the opposite happens. That’s a lot of power for a small group of private citizens to have over everyone else. But that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

If the US government needs more money than they take in from taxes to pay for whatever social programs, defense spending, or pork projects they deem necessary, where are they going to get it? The Federal Reserve, of course. So the US borrows money from the Fed which, of course, it now owes back to the Fed. As stated earlier, the US government now owes the Fed roughly $3,400,000,000,000 (plus or minus a few hundred billion, but what’s that between friends?).

Forget for a moment that the government doesn’t actually do anything to make money for itself and that that bill is in fact owed by the citizens of the United States; believe it or not, that’s not what is really unsettling about it. The really disturbing part is this: If this group of bankers wanted something from our government, could our government say “No”? I mean, if the Fed holds the threat of not only calling in this current debt, but also to refuse to loan any more, could the government of the United States realistically stand it’s ground and refuse them if they demanded something?

I’m not saying that the Fed would do something like that, but I feel it’s important to understand in no uncertain terms that they absolutely could if they wanted to.

So would they ever use that leverage for a self-serving reason? To decide, I think you would have to question the motives of these Fed architects when they came up with the idea in the first place. Why did they want to create the Federal Reserve? I guess it’s possible that they were simply a group of financial experts who realized that they had much more expertise in managing money than Congress did, and so, out of their concern for the continued well-being and prosperity of this great land, they offered their services to our country. But if that were really the case, why would such noble & patriotic men have allowed us to get into such tremendous debt? Is that how they handle their own personal finances? My guess would be “probably not”.

So if they didn’t create the Fed for benevolent reasons, is it possible that they did it for malevolent ones? And if this group of bankers controlling the money supply did want something, what could it possibly be? When you already have more money than you could ever use, what else is there?

"Give me control of a nation's money and I care not who makes the laws." - Mayer Amschel Bauer Rothschild

“Whoever controls the volume of money in any country is absolute master of all industry and commerce.” - President James A. Garfield

“I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous to our liberties than standing armies. If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their currency, first by inflation, then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around [the banks] will deprive the people of all property until their children wake-up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered. The issuing power should be taken from the banks and restored to the people, to whom it properly belongs.” – Thomas Jefferson

This may be a stretch, but think for a minute about all the fictional “superhero” & James Bond villains from comics, cartoons, and movies. Think about all of the true life villains of history: Genghis Khan, Attila the Hun, Napoleon, Hitler, & Stalin. Think about the great empires that have risen and fallen throughout history. Whether real or imaginary, they all have a few very important things in common:

1) They wanted absolute power.
2) They tried to gain it and keep it by force.
3) They ultimately failed.

Absolute power. Totalitarian control. Some people just have a thirst for it, and history is littered with the corpses of Pharaohs, Kings, Dictators, and Generals who have aspired to become gods among men. Is there any reason to think that that’s not still true today?

“We will have a world government whether you like it or not. The only question is whether that government will be achieved by conquest or consent.” - Paul Warburg, chief architect of the Federal Reserve Act.

So assuming that you wanted absolute power, how would you go about it if you already knew the dismal track record of those who came before you that had tried to get it and keep it by force? Maybe you don’t try to get it by force. Maybe you take a different approach. Instead of imposing your will over people, maybe you get them to subjugate themselves to you of their own free will. Maybe you put yourself into a quiet “behind the scenes” position where you have strong influence over governments and their policies, and then slowly & methodically lead everyone to where you want them to be. Dependant on you and under your absolute control. And by the time any of them realize what has happened (if they even do), none of them will be in a position to do anything about it.

Crazy? Maybe. Maybe not. Nations and empires have a way of rising and falling, and history shows that time and again they have all followed the same general cycle:

1. People in bondage gain spiritual faith
2. Faith evolves into courage
3. Courage brings about liberty
4. Liberty results in abundance
5. Abundance progresses to selfishness
6. Selfishness turns to complacency
7. Complacency devolves into apathy
8. Apathy leads to dependence
9. Dependence brings the cycle full circle back to bondage

How dependant are we today? Most Americans do very little for themselves; for the most part, we work for other people, so that they can give us money, so that we can buy things from somebody else. If we were brutally honest, we would have to clarify even further to say that not only do we do very little for ourselves, but in fact we couldn’t do very much even if we wanted to (which, of course, we don’t).

We have become so dependant on the things that are done for us by something or someone else that the knowledge of how those things were done by our ancestors before us has been lost. We couldn’t do them if we wanted to. We don’t know how. The very technology that has made our lives so easy has also put shackles on what options we have left.

Grocery stores provide our food. Utility companies provide warmth and light for our homes. Machines wash our clothes, cut our grass, and transport us around. Ask yourself the following questions, and please use the term “survive” in it’s most literal sense:

Could you survive today without electricity?
Could you survive today without the use of a bank?
Could you survive today if you had no car?
Could you survive today if you were not able to purchase things from stores?

These aren’t questions we ever seriously ask ourselves, because these things are so much a part of our lives that our lives simply wouldn’t work without them, at least, not the way we have become accustomed to living them. We’ve always had these things available to us so we take it for granted that they always will be. Sounds like a rather complacent attitude, doesn’t it?

And if someone were to intrude into the entertaining convenience of our lives and start bringing up questions that were a little disturbing to think about, would we even bother to listen, or are we already gripped in the death throws of apathy?

National Identification Cards
On May 11, 2005, President Bush signed into law the creation of what is called “Real ID” to take effect in May of 2008. In the interests of protecting US citizens from the threat of terrorism and to aid in the control of illegal immigrants, all US citizens will be required to have a US identification card. The card will be tamper proof, will carry your vital information (age, sex, etc.), and will contain some method of positive identification (possibly a fingerprint). Without this ID card, you will not be able to travel on an airplane, open a bank account, or be the beneficiary of any government services (including social security). The Department of Homeland Security has the authority to add additional requirements.

“Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.” – Benjamin Franklin

This is just scary. Every American will be required to have this card, and if you don’t have one you will technically not exist. It’s truly an offer we can’t refuse. How would we be able to live our lives as we have grown accustomed to if we cannot use a bank? In today’s world - quite simply - we can’t. The overwhelming majority of Americans today cannot survive without the use of a bank. It’s not even a choice. I mean, what would we do? What could we do?

Absolutely nothing. To refuse one of these cards – even if that can be done without criminal repercussions - would be to permanently alter the convenient routine of our lives. We have been trained to avoid unpleasantness and inconvenience, and the vast majority of us have allowed ourselves to be put into a position where we simply will not be able to say “No”.

But is that a bad thing? We already have other forms of ID; driver’s licenses, social security numbers . . . so what if I have a card that positively identifies me as me? It proves that I’m an American, and keeps those pesky illegal aliens from taking a piece of my pie. Terrorists won’t be able to run amuck and hurt me or my family. Identity theft will be almost impossible, which means my money will be safe. This doesn’t sound like a bad thing at all. In fact, I want one!

. . . maybe you get them to subjugate themselves to you of their own free will . . .

The first problem with the National ID card is that you don’t have a choice. Does that sound like an ideal of a free country? The second and much more important issue is what that card will inevitably evolve into.

Even if you have put yourself in a position where you could live without a bank and choose not to accept one of these cards, don’t think you’re out of the woods. What are you going to eat? If you raise animals for food, you’ll have to have them – every single one - registered with ID cards to be in compliance with the National Animal Identification System (NAIS). Those tags cost money, and you can only get them from the United States government. No ID card, no government service, and without NAIS compliance, you’re breaking the law by having unregistered animals that may be a threat to our nation’s food supply.

Maybe you can hunt & fish for your food. Not without a hunting and fishing license you can’t. To do so without a license is to break the law. Off to jail you go, troublemaker.

Maybe you can just forego meat altogether and grow your own food. That would probably work, as long as you don’t get any genetically engineered seed in your garden. Those seeds are patented, and any plants that carry cells from a genetically engineered seed that are grown without a license are the property of the manufacturer, and you can be sued for patent infringement. And it makes no difference how those seeds got on your land or if you even knew about it.

Even if food isn’t a problem, how would you cook it? How would you get paid? How are you going to pay for your mortgage? Your utilities? How will you get a driver’s license? How will you do anything?

About the best that you could hope for is that you have some skill – either a service you perform or a product you make – that you could sell for cash. That assumes, of course, that no judicial action is taken against you and that it does not become illegal for people to do business with “non-card carrying citizens”.

But even if you would be willing to put yourself into that position, what if it makes no difference? Because here’s where everything swings back around full circle to what was so disturbing to me in the very beginning: What happens if there comes a day when cash is no longer accepted?

Ahhh! Checkmate.

Regardless of why all of this is happening, whether it is planned or just a random chain of events, there seems to be at least one logical termination point where all of this could be leading: a cashless society. A world where your ID card is everything. Because it will be “you”, it will be your ID card, your passport, your driver’s license, your ATM card, your debit card . . . your everything card. Without it you will be nothing. That’s a frightening place to be.

We live in a world today where we are constantly allowing our rights to be carelessly thrown away as if they are of no value. We continue to relinquish more and more of our freedoms & civil liberties to the government out of our own fear, complacency, and convenience – a government which may itself be governed by another – and in doing so we are unwittingly permitting it to change it’s role from “servant” to “master”.

But it doesn’t have to be that way. None of this can happen without our consent; but by that I don’t mean each of us individually, I mean all of us collectively. Not thousands, but millions – tens of millions - of people need to stand up and simply say “No”.

“ . . .But the proles [the masses], if only they could somehow become conscious of their own strength, would have no need to conspire . . . They need only to rise up and shake themselves like a horse shaking off flies . . .” - Excerpt from 1984, by George Orwell

If we do nothing, however, if we consent and allow ourselves to reach the point of becoming a cashless society - when every transaction for anything is merely an electronic shift of numbers - we will also take that final step into total and complete slavery. Yes, slavery. Because just as these cards can be activated, they can also be deactivated, and when your very ability to survive depends entirely on the existence of that card, will it be possible for you to do anything against the will of those who control it knowing that they can, at their convenience, turn you off?
Think about that. Think hard. When everything is virtual, nothing is real. In a cashless society, the emperor will truly have no clothes, yet we will have no choice but to extol the virtues of his garments, because to do otherwise would be to risk the disapproval of those who control the power of that card. They could ask us to do anything – absolutely anything at all – and we would have no choice but to comply.

“None are so hopelessly enslaved as those who falsely believe they are free.” - Goethe

Absolute power is obtained when you have absolute dependence. And what better way to gain that than by having the ability to simply turn someone off if they don’t do what you want them to do?

If this is all happening according to some plan, you really do have to admire the simplicity of it’s design. In fact, one of its only few flaws is the actual card itself, since it still has the ability to be lost or stolen. But I would have to believe that that will only make the next logical step - that of having your ID microchip surgically implanted into your body - much easier for acceptance in the future. Don’t laugh; this technology already exists today, and believe it or not, there are already people who are volunteering to have it done. Of their own free will.

I can almost see the credit card commercials of the future now . . . Just wave your hand at the scanner as you go by; no need to waste all that time trying to get that card out of your pocket . . .

And should that day come, how then will we interpret these words?:

And he causes all, the small and the great, and the rich and the poor, and the free men and the slaves, to be given a mark on their right hand, or on their forehead, and he provides that no one should be able to buy or to sell, except the one who has the mark, either the name of the beast or the number of his name. - Revelation 13:16-17

I know that to some, I must sound like a paranoid nut, and in all honesty, I hope it turns out the be that way. I hope that the Fed is just a bank going about the business of making money. I hope that the people in our government – at all levels – aren’t just a collection of pawns who have been bought & paid for by the highest bidder. I hope that common sense and basic human decency are not extinct. But hope, while a wonderful thing, is not much of a strategy.

Regardless of what validity my rambling speculations may or may not have, what I said about the creation of the Federal Reserve is true. The “Real ID” identification cards were signed into law 2 years ago, the cycle of rising & falling nations has been repeated over and over, and the NAIS exists right now.

Monsanto has been quietly suing independent farmers for several years for patent infringement with the courts ruling in Monsanto’s favor, saying that it makes no difference how the seed got on the farmer’s land – whether it got mixed in with other seed by accident, blew off of a passing truck, or even was cross pollinated by insects – the plants, and all succeeding generations of plants, belong to Monsanto. Most farmers settle out of court, with part of the settlement being that they are not allowed to discuss it.

Knowing that all of these things are real, does it make any difference whether the speculation as to why they are happening is right or wrong? I’ll ask again: If you’re crossing the street and you get hit by a car and die, would it really make any difference to you whether the driver of the car did it on purpose or if it was a complete accident?

Either way, you’re still dead.

Since I wrote this, I’ve given a lot of thought as to what my motives were in doing so; I know what I wrote and I know that I felt compelled to write it, but why did I feel compelled? What am I trying to prove by painting such a gloomy picture? What gives me the right to speculate on the future?; I’m no prophet. And what “forward moving” purpose does it serve?

My first thought was, “Well, maybe we should be a little disturbed by all of these things so that we can start to do something about it.” But while there may be some truth to that, the more I thought about it, the less important it really seemed. And too, did I really want to use the magazine as a political sounding board where I can impress my views and fears on everyone else? I honestly have no desire for anyone to think I’m “important” or “wise”, or “right”.

So I kept thinking about it, and eventually, it dawned on me.

This isn’t about government, or conspiracies, or doom & gloom, or any of that nonsense. It’s much, much simpler than that. This is about faith. More specifically, what we put our faith into. Because by putting ourselves in a position where we are dependant on banks, utilities, insurance companies, the government, corporations, and all the rest, we are in fact putting our faith in them to provide for us, and every time we move a little more of our faith into yet another man-made institution, we move ourselves a little further away from God.

Funny that we should do that, because all of those things are “of man”, and last I checked, mankind was a rather imperfect and unreliable creature. Is it any wonder then that things may go awry, whether on purpose or by accident? And should we be surprised to realize that if we had allowed God to drive that car that I’ve mentioned a couple of times, we wouldn’t have been hit in the first place?

In the end, there is nothing wrong with allowing ourselves to be in a state of dependence. The danger is when we put ourselves in dependence to anyone or anything other than God.

(author's note: if you enjoyed this article and are intrigued by the subject matter, look for Blaine Staat's shocking new novel "What So Proudly We Hailed", coming in the Spring of 2008 from Linear Wave Publishing).