Willful Belligerent Unknowing

    Outside the building’s stone black walls, the crowd had assembled. Not yet a mob. Not yet. A mob has a purpose. These were only waiting for instructions to strike. The austere apartments towered above them. I could push through the crowd. Retreat to soulless safety. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back again.

    “Listen up, you liberal twat. No American Christian has ever embraced socialism as a guiding principle. It has no place in this country. No value.”

    “But it was a socialist who wrote the Pledge of Allegiance,” I remind them. I was having my lunch, eating an apple on bus bench. “A Baptist minister, Francis…”

    “I don’t know where you studied history, sir, but I suggest you take another course from a different source. You couldn’t be further from the truth.

    The agitations of the crowd surged and rolled. They surrounded me on the bench. Knocked the half-eaten apple from my hand.

    “The United States of America is the protector and defender of freedom and democracy.”

    “But the US of A has a history of toppling democratically elected governments around the world.”

    “Liar!

    “Costa Rica, Syria, Guatemala Iran. Chile… I could go on.”

    “No! You’re not going to convince us to jeopardize our freedom and security with your leftist lies.”

    We don’t see. So we don’t know. Won’t see. It’s not ignorance but a willful, belligerent unknowing. Open eyes and shuttered minds. The lights shining in darkened corners have been snuffed. My people are destroyed for a lack of knowledge.

Hosea 4:6

Oh, You Can't Get to Heaven

 

    I got a chance to be the bad uncle at church this morning - sharing a silly song with the kids. Start the video at the 14:30 mark.

 

Golden Godliness

    Hog butcher, gold digger, the United States is the greatest country in the world. Say it again. Say it more. Robber baron, arms dealer, the United States is the greatest nation in the history of nations. A model of hard work humility, and honest golden worship. Decent men and proud women living lives of good fortune. The envy of the world.

    Look to the unrivaled military straddling the world, land and sea and air and space. Our marching millions. Look to the unparalleled wealth accumulated in cities of glass and steel. Global power, high above all nations of the earth just as God promised in those pivotal Old Testament prophecies.

    But, and hear this, only two in ten will affirm it. Only two in ten will say Amen. Two in ten who understand that America stands a golden head above the other nations. All others are America hating blasphemers who do not understand that gain is godliness. And that we will take it all.

1 Timothy 6:5

Cain and the Capitalist Cult

    The curdled sky unplaceable through the smoke of burning cities
    day and night disfigured, bulldozed earth in a heap of spoil
    Cain stands screaming in the field of blood,
    “Am I my brother’s keeper?” 
    Patron saint of the Capitalist Cult.

No Man Is an Island, or The Implications of Store-Bought Milk

    “Let it go down in history as a scattering of ash: Rugged Individualism is a myth.” The walls shifted. The ceiling pulled back. Wooden furniture splintered on the floor. The words were my own. I spoke them gently; it was my friend who burst in to bring down the roof.

    “I wouldn’t expect anything else from someone like you.”

    “Someone like me?” I asked.

    “Commies like you who admire socialists.” Paintings fell from their frames. The windows fell open. The front door fell off its hinges.

    “Ah…” I said. “I think maybe you’ve got that backwards, but it’s still true. We are stronger together.”

    “People just need to take accountability for their station. Grow your own food and you’ll never have to worry about another government recall. I grow my own. Why don’t you?” My shelves shuddered to the floor, spilling books into a heap.

    “There’s no pure independence. We are, each one of us, interdependent. We rely on each other.”

    “I raise chickens and trade eggs for pork. We have a cow and we tried pasteurizing our own milk, but we’ve mostly returned to store-bought milk. Our water comes from a well. I make diesel from used oil and fryer grease. I won’t be a slave to other producers or to the government.”

    “Hold up a beat,” I interrupted. “You buy milk?”

    “Well, we had trouble controlling the pasteurizing temperatures. The point is, either control your own resources to meet your needs or you depend on others. Choose your path. Choose wisely.”

    The whole house lurched on its cracked foundation.

    “Okay. Okay. Slow down there, Garfunkle. No man is an island. I said it before and I’ll say it again. Rugged Individualism is a myth. We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing.”

    My friend scoffed a laugh and looked around. “This place is falling apart. You should do something about that. Take accountability for your place.” I sighed and picked up my copy of Donne’s devotions from the floor as he made his exit.