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The Importance of Presence

I hope you will read the following editorial piece in its entirety. And then read my added comments that follow.

WILLIAM BENNETT: What Charlie Kirk’s murder tells us about the American mind.

“The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.” William Butler Yeats wrote those words about Europe after the Great War, but they ring with terrible clarity this week as we bury Charlie Kirk, murdered at 31 for the crime of arguing in public. The young man who built an empire of discourse from a suburban garage has been silenced by someone who apparently found bullets more persuasive than words.

But here is what strikes me as I reflect on this tragedy: Charlie Kirk may have been the last American who genuinely believed you could change someone’s mind with a good argument. Think about that. When was the last time you saw someone actually switch positions during a debate? When did you last witness someone say three of the most treasured words in the English language: “I was wrong?”

My younger son understood this belief. He called me after Kirk’s death and shared something that possibly captured our national descent. “Dad,” he said, “I used to be like Charlie Kirk— I used to think people could be persuaded with reason.”

My son learned otherwise during the 2016 election, while in graduate school. He started getting several calls a day from classmates wanting to understand how he could support someone they genuinely believed was the modern-day equivalent of Hitler. These graduate students—educated, intelligent people pursuing MBAs—literally thought Trump was on par with Hitler and were calling my son because they could not reconcile how someone like him could support such evil.

So, in good faith, he engaged everyone who contacted him. From his own account: “I came to business school to learn things like accounting, not to practice defending myself from being called a Nazi. I lost friends through this period, and it ended up being one of the hardest times of my life.”

Let me advance an unconventional thesis: Charlie Kirk died because we have forgotten how to hate properly. G.K. Chesterton observed that “the true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind [or next to] him.” We fight not for hatred of our enemies but love of our fellow soldiers and the ideals of our country. We have inverted this wisdom. We teach our young people to hate their opponents rather than love their own principles. We have made politics a blood sport precisely because we have drained it of transcendent meaning. When you believe in nothing greater than your own righteousness, the only thing left is to destroy those who challenge your certainty.

As my son lost friends, he did something quite understandable. Shortly after Trump’s election, he stopped actively participating in politics—watching the news, talking about it with friends, and reading the articles he used to read daily. “I found myself getting physically uncomfortable when the news came on,” he told me. “Defending yourself against being called a Nazi, racist, sexist, endlessly just for communicating relatively common-sense ideas like boys go to the boys’ bathroom and girls go to the girls’ bathroom, or that throwing Molotov cocktails into police cars is a bad idea (something a classmate of his actually did during the George Floyd protests) just gets really draining after a while.”

My son learned a hard, unfortunate lesson during graduate school, one countless other students have learned in recent years. The modern university, where Kirk met his end, has become the opposite of what John Henry Newman envisioned when he wrote “The Idea of a University.” Newman imagined institutions where “a habit of mind is formed which lasts through life, of which the attributes are freedom, equitableness, calmness, moderation, and wisdom.” Instead, we have created factories of fragility, where students pay $70,000 a year to have their prejudices confirmed and their triggers avoided.

The founders would have recognized Charlie immediately. Franklin with his junto, Hamilton with his newspapers, Jefferson with his correspondence, they all understood that democracy is an argument, not an answer. Madison wrote in Federalist 10 about the dangers of faction, but he never imagined we would solve the problem of faction with assassination.

Here is another unconventional thought: The problem is not that our universities are too political. They are not political in the classical sense of “political” that Aristotle meant when he called man a political animal. The university problem is that they are factories of indoctrination, especially in the liberal arts. Real politics requires engagement with difference, the ability to live alongside those you disagree with, the skill of persuasion rather than coercion. Our campuses have replaced politics with theology, and a particularly intolerant theology at that.

My son concluded his reflection with words that haunt me: “In those moments, having made the wrong choice at that juncture many times before, I hope I have the conviction and bravery to live it like Charlie and live it like Bill.” He meant Charlie Kirk, of course. The other Bill he referenced was his father — me. I am humbled by the comparison but troubled by his confession. While he admittedly tossed his hat out of the ring, and entered the non-political world of finance, he has found his comfort and happiness. But at what cost to our society?

This is what we have done to our young people. We have made the cost of conviction so high that capable, principled people retreat from public engagement entirely. We have created a world where it is safer to be silent than to speak, safer to conform than to question, safer to hide than to stand. There is a certain relief in that. But it does not come without a cost.

The question before us is not whether we will have more Charlie Kirks—young people willing to brave hostility for their beliefs. We will. The question is whether we will have more like my son—capable people who retreat from public engagement because the cost has become too high. Few of the brightest people I know dream of entering politics—they dream of venture capital, private equity, the places where talent can still flourish without ideological inquisition. It makes brutal sense: Make enough money, and perhaps you can affect the change you want to see in society, safely insulated from the mob.

If we cannot make America safe for argument again—not just civil argument, but vigorous, passionate, even angry argument—then we should stop pretending we live in a democracy. In its literal etymological sense, democracy means “power of the people”—today it feels more like power of the perpetually aggrieved. If you are not consumed with rage, you are at home raising your family and going to work. So radical political movements naturally attract the angriest among us, not necessarily the wisest.

Charlie Kirk is dead at 31, but the idea he represented—that Americans can argue their way to truth rather than shoot their way to silence—must not die with him. My son’s generation deserves better than the choice between silence and death. They deserve what Charlie Kirk tried to give them: a place at the table, a voice in the conversation, and the right to speak without being murdered for it. Our children and grandchildren deserve it.

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William J. Bennett joined FNC (Fox New Channel) as a contributor in 2017.The former Secretary of Education under President Ronald Reagan and the nation’s first Drug Czar under President George H.W. Bush, Bennett is one of America’s most recognized voices on cultural, political and educational issues. He also served as a professor at Boston University, the University of Texas, and Harvard University.A native of Brooklyn in New York City, Bennett studied philosophy at Williams College (B.A.) and the University of Texas (Ph.D.) and earned a law degree (J.D.) from Harvard.In addition to his role at FNC, Bennett currently serves as chairman of Resilience Learning and is the Founding Provost of Jefferson Classical Academies. He has written or co-authored more than 25 books, including the Book of Virtues.

A few days ago, I posted a short piece concerning the death of Charlie Kirk. One response I received was extremely unkind from an avowed atheist. His language was rude and discourteous. Usually, I ignore those who many times are trolling social media trying to either prove a point or just be downright vulgar toward anything with which they disagree. The latter is likely in this case.

Deciding to answer him, I pointed to the truth about Charlie that he was just a man of God, sharing the word of God, trying to reach people with the gospel. He came back at me fuming. My second answer was that only a fool has said in his heart there is no God, and after a short time, I blocked him from my feed.

That is what I want to write about after having read Bennett’s piece. You don’t have to be a young person trying to shield yourself from a very unkind, often hostile world, especially if you stand for objective truth in the face of the lies poured out like honey to an unsuspecting, often yearning world.

Like most anyone else, conflict is not something I enjoy—most of the time. Fear of others is not in my playbook. Shying away from controversy is not a strong suit for me, either. But sometimes, now most of the time, I do my best to be kind and still straight forward both in my beliefs and how I present them. The spiritual blindness of the world and the utter ignorance of widely accepted truths from days gone by is shocking.

But the truth is still the truth, even when it is both inconvenient and painful. But the world wants neither. They want their way come hell or high water and they will hurt or kill anyone who gets in their way. That is becoming more obvious every day.

So, as a 72 year old pastor who has seen most every shocking circumstance possible in life, instead of continuing a difficult dialogue, I blocked someone who more than likely would have ignored my attempt to reach him with the truth no matter how many ways I tried. But I didn’t give him that opportunity. I simply stopped communicating. I don’t feel guilty or ashamed, but I do have the sense that I could have done better.

The problem I have with many of the so-called leftists, progressives, marxists, atheists, or whatever they want to be called today, is that their evil seems to be uncontrollable. The more truth they hear, they worse they get and the more outlandish their claims become. Self absorption has so enveloped their minds that there is no room for any idea that disagrees with them.

The words of Jesus rang in my ears and mind after I made the decision to abruptly end my interaction. In Luke 9:5 (also Mark 6:11 & Matthew 10:13), Jesus said, “And wherever they do not receive you, when you leave that town shake the dust from your feet as a testimony against them.”

Sometimes, you just have to count your loses and go on. Leave evil behind. But never, ever give up trying to reach those who will listen. The gospel is still the best message, and I say with great confidence, Jesus still saves.

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Why Did He Have To Die?

A few days ago, one of my very best friends posed a question to me that he had been asked to answer. Why didn’t the Lord protect him [Charlie Kirk] from being shot? I am not sure exactly why he passed that question along to me. I didn’t ask him. But I imagine it was probably because we’ve been friends for decades, we worked together at church for many years, and we have a high level of trust in each other. Maybe more than that, he values my opinion, especially when it comes to serious matter of life.

The man is a real friend. Why do I call him a real friend? A real friend is there to challenge your thinking, build you up in your faith, and listen to your position without judgement even if they disagree. I have no idea how he answered the question. He didn’t volunteer it and I didn’t press him. I simply answered the question the best I could.

The answer is easy and it is understandable if a person is in the word and accepts God as sovereign. This is no trick answer, but it is my answer. “You are asking the wrong question.” The right question is, “What was God’s purpose in allowing Charlie to be killed?”

Perspective matters. We who are believers, persons who have actually accepted Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior and walk with him daily, know in our hearts that God is in complete control of every deed, thought, and action of every human being in the world, those alive, those dead, and those not born yet. As far as God is concerned, there are no accidents. God’s plan is the one and only plan, no plan B, on surprises in heaven.

Knowing that, by faith and faith alone, we are able to comprehend everything has purpose. Understanding God’s purpose is not always easy, but he always has one. He who created the universe with nothing but a word, complex, very small things like DNA and very large things like stars, has plainly shown us that the whole of the universe works exactly as it should, exactly as he planned long before any of us were here.

So, God has purpose. But what about “allowing?” Does God just randomly allow things to happen apart from his plan, his will? Does he just tolerate bad things happening, does he acquiesce to the will of man, does he condone sinful action? No, no, and no. This is where the question and answer gets a little “sticky,” especially if you are a self-willed fatalist, a person who does not recognize God as the final authority in life. You see, some people want to sort of believe God exists. It is OK with them that he hangs around in our conversations, shows up at weddings and funerals, gets celebrated a couple of times a year for Easter and Christmas. That’s OK, but not him being in charge and us being accountable to him.

Anyway, all that begs the question, “Why did he allow it?” Ultimately, he didn’t just allow it, he planned for it. If God is absolutely sovereign, and he is, and there are no accidents with God, and there are not, he had to know in advance it was going to happen. And he did. Even saying that is very unsettling to me. I’ve known God personally in the free pardon of sin more than four decades. I trust him—completely. But I still do not like it when something like this happens, I can’t figure it out, it makes me angry, and all the while I know God knew it was coming and didn’t stop it. I suppose that is one of the gazillion reasons he is God and I am not.

So, on to purpose. By now, after all the tears, anger, disagreements, and lies told in the media, it has become very apparent to everyone with the least bit of common sense that Charlie Kirk’s death happened to draw people to Jesus. Charlie loved the Lord. His wife does. Turning Point USA exists to get the message of the gospel out to everyone, especially young, college age adults. He had no fear proclaiming Christ as Lord, and I pray now that Erika is the face of TPUSA, the testimony and influence will grow even more to show the power of God in the face of evil. His passion for the truth is going to be hard to match. But I bet the organization he founded is up to the task of supporting the work and continuing to challenge the thinking of young Americans.

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Whadayado When The Wheels Fall Off?

You were likely moving when it happened, so stop. After you stop, check on damage. And then ask, what in the world happened that made my wheels fall off. Coulda been one wheel, coulda been more than one. How long did you notice your wheels were loose or did you even notice at all? Is the wheel broken, bent, scraped, or otherwise damaged? How about your car, or whatever the wheel fell off of? That’s a lot of questions that need to be answered pretty quickly so you can get back on the road again.

As you can see from the picture, my problem was with my lawn mower. Although, a couple of years ago, after a friend helped me change out some custom wheels, I was headed down the road one day in my Jeep and all of a sudden I heard a knocking sound. It didn’t make sense until I got out of the car and looked around—loose lug nuts. I turned around and went home, got out my impact drive and tightened the 5 loose nuts. Guess what, I didn’t check the other 4 wheels. It wasn’t long, the next day, that the same sound invaded the inside of the Jeep as I was jetting alone the roadway. Turn around again, went back home, and discovered all 3 of the other wheels were to some degree, loose. I tightened them all up (later I took them all back off to check if there was wheel stud damage, there wasn’t any) and went on my way.

From the Jeep experience I learned one valuable lesson. When someone helps you do something and you are not really sure about their experience in the matter, take a minute or two and check their work.

But this missive is more about my mower. What happened that caused the “tire” to break apart and fall off? If you look closely, you will also notice a bit of paint missing from the side of the mower. That means I got too close to some things like brick walls, fences, curbing, and patios. When you rub up against things that you shouldn’t, something is likely to fall apart.

You can’t see the other wheels, but another one is about to fall off and the others two are as bare as a. . .you know. That means they’ve been used a lot. I’m not sure I would say overused, but at least overlooked. Sometimes, when we are working our tails off, making ends meet, and trying to meet the needs of those around us, we overlook our “tread life.” When we do, we will probably spin out at some point.

God made our bodies for worship and work. We can get too busy doing both. If we don’t rest when we desperately need rest, something we really need to do will get overlooked or underdone. And then the wheels fall off. We feel guilty or someone fusses at us. Our feelings are already running shallow, so we bark back at the person who is just trying to help us understand we need to slow down and smell something fragrant.

I heard it said, and said it myself, “I’ll drive this one until the wheels fall off.” If you’re not careful, it will happen way sooner than you expect.

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On The Road Again

Surely, you are familiar with Willie Nelson’s hallmark song, “On The Road Again.” Even if you are not familiar with the song itself, when you hear it, you say to yourself, “That’s Willie Nelson singing.” His voice is so distinct, his style is his own, and he has been doing it for decades. He has actually played a whole in that old 1969 Martin N-20 he affectionately calls “Trigger.” Every guitar player will understand naming instruments just like some people name their cars or something else that is precious to them. But that is not exactly what I’m thinking about as I write this.

A few mornings ago, I heard my wife talking on her phone. I could tell by her long pauses and occasional laughter that she was either talking to one of her sisters, likely her older sister, or to her niece. Most weeks this will happen a time or two, and most of the time they talk for an hour or more. On this particular morning, with that Willie tune in my head for some reason, I said to myself, “On the phone again!” I almost laughed out loud, but then it came to me that this is part of a very important aspect of life.

Debbie’s family all live about 500 miles from us. We don’t travel a lot, so we see them “once in a blue moon” meaning once or twice a year. I know that when they get on the phone together they are going to talk about subjects that are important and stuff that does not matter at all. But what they say is not nearly as important as that they are saying it—to each other. Nothing in this world, or the world to come, is as important as relationships.

Every morning, after we pry our old bodies out of the bed, brush our teeth, and make our coffee and tea (I’m the tea drinker), we find our study place—hers in a comfy recliner beside our bed and mine in front of my computer in my office—to begin our day reading, studying, and meditating on the Word of God. You might say “In The Word Again” because that is our habit and has been for decades. We can’t pick up the phone, dial some heavenly number, and say, “Good morning God, it’s me. How’s it shakin’?” I wouldn’t put it that way anyhow, but you now what I mean.

But I can hear his voice as clearly as if I was on the phone when I am reading the Bible and thinking about it. For the past couple of years I’ve been working on writing commentaries about Bible books—Philippians and Colossians, in particular. Someone asked me how I spent an entire year writing daily in the very short book of Philippians. It only has 4 chapters, 104 verses, 2,183 words. My answer is always, “When God is speaking, we should take our time listening.”

Just like Debbie’s conversations with her family on the phone, the time we spend in God’s Word is precious. It is illuminating. It is comforting. It is challenging. It is life-changing. I highly recommend it.

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Be Careful Who You Choose

In all my 71 years on this planet, I have never seen a more bizarre political climate. We have heard about the Left and the Right, Conservatives and Liberals, Democrats and Republicans for decades. Now the popular terms are Progressives, Constitutionalist, even Fascist, It’s democracy verses republic, socialism verses capitalism, electoral college verses simple majority. Is there too much globalization or not enough? And what about inflation, interest rates, prices of goods, insider trading, social justice?

Incumbents want to be reelected after decades in office while others want to limit terms. The Supreme Court has come to the forefront as some want to sanction members of the court while others want to “stack” the court. New terms like lawfare and weaponization in government offices are becoming common place. Super PACs and dark money have replaced the simple term lobbyist. There’s information, disinformation, and stacked polls. And what about Student Loan forgiveness, school choice, and income inequality.

We’ve been told that unless we follow the Green New Deal, stop offshore drilling, pay a carbon tax, control guns, and allow dreamers into our country without limits, America is going to burn up and fall apart. The falling apart. . .part. . .I understand. I see it happening all around me everyday.

Black verses white, gay verses straight, rainbows everywhere (used, of course, completely out of historical context), anti-Israel demonstrations, climate activists (terrorists) running on golf courses and through art museums, the rule of law being challenged by those who clearly hate America. Where is it going to end?

My short answer. It is not going to end—at least not at the hands of politicians and government intervention. That has been made clear on many fronts. Law after law after law has been passed federally, in states, and local governments. And yet crime is at an all-time high nationwide and more people are homeless than ever before. Liquor is being given to drunks on the street, dope has been legalized all over the place, police have their hands tied by politicians who dare not walk their own streets.

However, I do know the answer to all this mess. You are not going to like it—at least many who read this won’t. We have to stop all the accusing, beating up and killing each other, stealing what doesn’t belong to us, and lying just to get more hits on social media. All these, and a lot more will only cease when people far and wide recognize there is a better way. His name is Jesus. It’s not what we do but who we know. Jesus and his word changes lives for the better. Oh, I know, you want to scream about the latest pastor who got himself in trouble. He found himself, whoever he is, in trouble because he took his eyes off Jesus. You see, celebrity can destroy influence in the church just like it does in sports. We don’t need anymore celebrities talking about subjects of which they have no understanding.

We need people of influence who know the Lord talking about the Lord and promoting the Lord and his righteousness—in our lives and in our world. If we ever get back to the place where worshiping the true and living God in Jesus Christ is first in our lives, we might just get to enjoy just a little peace like we did when I was a kid. Will it happen. I don’t know. But I know this: be careful who you choose.

“But as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD” (Joshua 24:15.

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Staying Alive!

A number of people have asked me why I like and share just about everything Wondherful (Heather Palacios, http://www.wondherful.com) posts on social media. Here is my why. . .

Early in my life I was involved in drugs, including alcohol. No doubt, permanent damaged occurred physical and emotional. I saw a lot of death, and not a small part of it the result of suicide.

Some have heard my testimony about the night I came to Christ and faith and was saved by his marvelous grace. I had just driven the family car over an embankment with the hope of ending my life—the problem—my wife and almost two year old child were in the car with me. I abandoned them on the side of the road (thankfully Debbie was able to get the car going and drive home about 20 minutes away) and began to walk aimlessly until I arrived at a bridge overlooking a dam and a gorge about 100 feet below me. This was my first time coming close to killing myself.

I stood at the edge of the bridge, reviewed my life—it didn’t take long—and decided the pain and anguish of life wasn’t worth the effort. I was all alone. Or so I thought. In the midst of the confusion and chaos going on in my head, Holy Spirit showed up in power. I already knew he was working on me because that awful scene with the car was because I was under such great conviction for being lost and refusing God.

At the end of my proverbial rope, and with no knot at the end, I was quickly slipping toward the “jump.” And then it happened. God drew me to himself, showed me in a split second my lostness and need. My response, thank God, was to repent and believe. I expressed my sorrow for my sinfulness to God the best I could, and in my spirit cried out to God to save me. He did! But that’s not the end of the story.

Less than 3 years later, while pastoring a small church in East Tennessee, I was faced with what I thought was an unbearable situation because some of the leadership in the church had turned against me. I was young and stupid, they were old and stupid. One warm spring morning, I left the loft of our beautiful log house, walked out to the workbench in the garage, and laid down my Smith and Wesson 38 revolver in front of me. I stared at it for what seemed an eternity and decided it would be better for everyone if I rid the world of myself. Once again, I was all alone. Or so I thought. Debbie sensed my pain, discovered were I was and what I was contemplating, and after some well deserved yelling on her part, I came to my senses. The really scary part of this episode is that I was a pastor. Green yes, but saved and secure. Why had I done this.

Many years later, after my first stint at seminary, witnessing fear in the eyes and words of some of the students who were much younger than me, and listening to their own stories of loneliness, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Every person I’ve ever talked to about suicide who, thank God, did not take their own life, have something in common. We felt all alone. I guess it is like being in a room full of people thinking every one of them is looking at you. You don’t hear anything, you can’t feel much, and even though the room is full you feel alone.

I have news for you. You are not alone. I am here. Heather is here. Others who care about you deeply are here. And we are not going anywhere. Reach out to me, reach out to a friend, reach out to Heather, your pastor, someone. But please, do not give up on yourself. Your life is too important to someone else for you to leave them.

I have a P.S.. You are probably still wondering how I know Heather Palacios. Her husband, Raul, is a pastor at Church by the Glades in Coral Springs, FL. My son was on staff at that church several years ago. Debbie and I had the joy of visiting with the Palacios family in their home. Frankly, I’ve never gotten over that brief visit. They are as real as Christians come. That’s why I share over and over.

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Zone Bleue

Zone Bleue (French for Blue Zone) was a special traffic zone in the inner city of Paris in the decades after World War II. It was restricted to cars and delivery vehicles that required very little space on the street. Think Fiat 500. I had a very tall friend, 6’5 as I recall, who drove one of those for years. I had no trouble getting in and out of it but it was a treat just watching him fold himself into that small car. The neat part was that he could park it just about anywhere and we rarely had to walk far from a spot to a store.

In America, we have parking restrictions, believe it or not. You would never know it if you watch how people conduct themselves in parking lots. And how about those shopping carts–that’s a whole other story.

I live near a fairly sizable strip shopping center housing half a dozen shops, a few of them pretty large with hundreds of parking spaces from which to choose. Of course the first few spaces nearest the entrance doors are set aside and marked as handicap spaces. The usual color to signify handicap is blue, sometimes red. Red is, for sure, the color used by government to mark prohibited space primarily for emergency vehicles.

Just about every time I go over to this shopping center, a local police officer is sitting at one end or the other of the strip, obviously watching out for those who park near the curb that is clearly painted red with the words, NO PARKING — EMERGENCY VEHICLES ONLY. I bet you can guess or you have seen with your own eyes that message is ignored, a lot.

A day or two ago, I was sitting in my truck waiting for my girlfriend of 53 years, to whom I have been married for nearly 52 years, to come out of one of the stores in that strip. I usually do not park anywhere near the entrances because I do not want my truck to get banged up with doors opening and carts slamming. On this occasion, though, I was able to back into a space that afforded me some sense of security and a clear view of people parking across from me, especially in the handicap spaces.

Before I paint the picture for your mind that I’m thinking about, let me say I know the person behind the wheel of a car with a handicap tag is not always the one with a limitation. That kind of makes this little story even more poignant, in my opinion. As I sat waiting, a beautiful, very expensive, black crossover pulled into the first handicap space. I could not see anything through the windows because the tint job was clearly darker than what is allowed by law. A female bounded out the door of the car and proceeded into the same store where my wife was shopping. A few minutes later, she walked briskly from the store to the car, opened the rear hatch to set a large box in the back. That is when I saw the handicap card hanging from the rearview mirror. I could also see now that she was alone. Alone mind you, with what appeared to be a perfectly legal handicap parking placard, but one that she clearly did not need.

She stood there for a minute and then another equally nice black and expensive SUV pulled in beside her in yet another handicap space, same blacked out windows and probably even more expensive than the one she was driving. The rear hatch of the new parker opened and low and behold, another legal looking handicap parking card. The person who emerged from this car was familiar with the first driver, equally as capable of walking, and picked up a box from her rear compartment and put it beside the box already in the other car. Both women proceeded to grab their purse, close their hatches, and head of down the strip I can only assume to merrily go shopping.

Sad. A travesty, no. Breaking the law, yes. But worse than that, these two, mindful or not, showed a complete lack of respect for others, especially for those who have physical limitations.

But there is a part to this story that is even worse than their display of disrespect and ignoring the law. Their conduct was an ever so brief commentary about our society as a whole. Greed, selfishness, and having no regard for others, are symptoms of the chaos facing us every time we leave our homes. Godlessness, a clear lack of morality and self respect are are clearly destroying what was once a great country.

There is a cure and it quite simple. But people are too busy to stop and recognize their need. They need a good dose of Jesus, not in name only, but in a way that changes their hearts so that their behavior follows what they say they believe.

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Choices

In 2024, for most of us, maybe all of us, there will be a lot of choices to make. I sincerely hope that you and I make the right choices, but I doubt we will, at least every time. Making a choice is kind of like driving up to a fork in the road. You must decide which way to go, left or right. Or, you decide to turn around and go back the way you came. That might be the way to go, especially if you don’t know for sure which is the right turn. Sometimes, when you get to that fork in the road, the choice is really easy because you have been to that same fork many times and you already know the right way to go. But, also sometimes, you face that same fork in the road knowing which way is the right way to go and once again you take the wrong turn knowing the negative consequences you face going down that road.

Making choices is only ever easy if we are prepared to make the right choice. And believe me, you can be as prepared as you can be and still make a wrong choice. I have done it over and over. By the way, life does not just happen and we are not just along for the ride waiting for someone else to make choices for us. Even in not making a choice, we are choosing to make a choice. Now that is heady.

I know a lot of people who live reckless lives. It appears they are always making wrong choices. They get in trouble a lot, they almost never have enough to get by, and they seem really sad and unsure most of the time. That is not fate, and it is not a matter of circumstance, it is the result of wrong choices. Some might say, “Well I can’t help it, this happened to me because. . .” You still have a choice after something happens that was unfortunate or just plain wrong. You can choose to be a victim of circumstance or you can choose to rise above it and stay on the right track or get back on the right track. The choice is always yours.

I was in a jail one time (not as a prisoner, thank God) talking to a guy who had been there for many years. He had just been in a fight and was pretty beaten up. We were talking about the choices he had made in life, especially the bad choices he had made, and he said something that has stuck with me all these years. He said, “I’m all beat up because I made a bad choice.” Why was that a significant statement? Well, you might think being in jail puts you in a predicament where you can no longer make choices. That is not true. Wherever you are in life, choices are staring you in the face all the time. On this particular occasion, I spoke to this rugged looking, foul talking, disrespectful man, and decided to try to help him make sense of what life he had left. I wanted to help him make a right choice for a change.

As we talked, he realized I didn’t have to be there having that conversation. I chose to be in that jail, at that time, with a message of hope for him. I told him it didn’t matter where he had been or what he had done, hope was still available, in fact, right on the horizon. At first, it didn’t make a bit of sense to him, but as I started sharing about my faith and where I had come from, he began to realize that the hope I was talking about was real and it was a matter of a choice I had made many years ago.

I told him how I nearly ended my own life out of frustration and almost took the lives of my infant son and wife as a result of my bad choices. I let him know that my life had not been anywhere near perfect since I decided to follow Jesus Christ, but the more I walk with him the better it gets and the more good decisions I am able to make. This dear man began to listen intently as he heard more about Jesus, his sinless life, sacrificial death, and glorious resurrection. He began to understand his dire need of a savior and how he deserved to die and go to hell but didn’t have to do that. You see, in his mind he was already making good decisions. He decided to listen, he decided not to argue, he decided not to dismiss the message. . .and finally, he decided to make the best choice he will ever make in this life. He decided to receive Jesus Christ as his own Savior and Lord. He approached God in repentance, truly sorry in his heart for the godless life he had lived to that point, and he decided he didn’t want to live that way anymore.

He made the right choice.

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Wham, Bam, Thank You, Ma’am

Another year has come and is almost gone, society seems to be deteriorating at a pace not before seen in history, politics is still politics as usual, more eyes than ever before are blinded to truth, and the majority of people are passing the time as if nothing is really wrong. How do I know this? Isn’t it obvious.

People are spending money like they have it to spend, but the evidence shows that personal debt is at an all time high (at least in the US). It is not just individuals and families who are charging their lives into bankruptcy, government is working overtime to give my grandchildren debt they will never be able to repay. And, then, taxes. What in life is not taxed, some things are taxed multiple times. I paid taxes on my income. I pay taxes on my individual retirement. I even pay taxes on my Social Security earnings that were taxed to hell and back while I was working. Now, the tax money coming out of the pockets are working Americans is being spent on non-Americans who absolutely do not deserve to be here. There are plenty of free loaders right here in the US who were born here, don’t work, don’t have any intention to work, and have their hands out to government to spend our tax dollars into which they haven’t invested a single dime. Wham, Bam, and no thank you, please.

It is high time for the working class to tell the bums to get off their duff and do something that contributes rather than sit around getting fat and enjoying a life they don’t deserve. In this number, we must remember to include many, if not most, of the politicians around the country who have gotten rich passing laws that benefit themselves and not us.

The bloat in the federal bureaucracy is sickening. Anyone with at least half their thinking ability intact, who is paying attention, knows it. Print and spend, print and spend, claim they are saving for the future, claim they are creating new jobs, claim they are protecting our country–it is all lies.

The solution to all this is really not that difficult. It may be very, very hard to implement, painful to many, but doable anyway. Close the border[S]. All of them. Build a wall, build something–and stop the ILLEGAL immigration from every nation on the earth. Do not accept those who are already here. Ship them back to where they came from, and don’t let them back in under any circumstance. Some will say that is cruel. Those people are stupid on so many levels.

Close the border, and close loopholes–loopholes that allow government to spend what they don’t have, loopholes that allow criminals to continue doing crime without any fear of punishment, loopholes that punish honest, working people who just want to live quietly and protect what they have, loopholes that leave the starving hungry while bums and illegals feast, loopholes that allow unelected bureaucrats mandate anything.

Close the border, close loopholes, and close down the government–not all of it, but much of it. Lock the doors, throw away the keys, and don’t ever let them back in. In particular, close the Department of Education; that would only leave 14 more to deal with. The people who run that department are doing nothing to educate children, period. A comprehensive overhaul of the remaining gangs would go a long way toward saving trillions for average Americans. That leaves 430 agencies to deal with, the largest and most destructive being the Environmental Protection Agency, which, by the way, is independent. It gets bigger and bigger and protects less and less.

The EPA, in its independent charter, is like the Federal Reserve banking system. The FRS doesn’t need anyones approval to do what they do. It was organized to prevent “panics” like the Great Depression and more recently the meltdown around 2008. Sadly, it has become a behemoth that does not and cannot guarantee financial liquidity in the economy, it has created worldwide instability of monetary systems, and has worked arm-in-arm with the handlers in the executive branch to create debilitating inflation when its charter was to prevent the very situations that are running rampant.

Wham, Bam, no thank you, ma’am. Right now America needs a hero, a patriot, someone with some guts to do the right thing knowing it is going to hurt. As a new year dawns, I sure hope someone is up to the daunting task.

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Sexual Identity

A few days ago, someone ask me about the sex and gender debate. I’m not sure that person liked my answer. I’m going to share it here so there is no question where I stand on the matter.

My answer, quite simply, is that there is no difference. Gender fluidity, as it described today, is nothing more than perversion. My old 1958 Webster’s School Dictionary defines perversion as “a turning away from truth or propriety.” This is exactly what is happening in the world now.

Perverts, or those who have turned away from truth–not their truth or a truth but the truth well established by real scientists many centuries ago–are wielding a societal sword of chaos in an attempt to get rational people to begin thinking irrationally. In other words, truth becomes error and error becomes truth.

Except, in this discussion, the argument is not about “error” but about absolute denial of anything scientific and reasonable. No amount of surgery, makeup, clothing or anything else can make a man a woman or a woman a man. Period.

The whole idea of a “birthing person” as opposed to a woman who gives birth is ridiculous. The people who support such a description have, at some level, lost their minds. Where they lost them I have not a clue. But it is obvious their agenda is not one to help people understand their true identity as a person but, rather, to confuse them. People are confused enough when they know what they are. They don’t need any more help.

The presence of men in women’s sporting events is no less stupid–yeah, that’s right, stupid. Men and women are substantially different in many ways. You can deny it all you want. It’s still true. Generally, men are stronger and faster whether you like it or not. Pitting males against females in any sport and calling it fair is a travesty.

Make no mistake, though. The argument is not about individual rights no matter how loud the ludicrous left shouts. The endgame for this bunch of miscreants, along with much, if not all government agencies and public press, is control. They talk a good talk about diversity and fairness. But that is not what they want. They want to control everything you do so you are required to go to them for permission–permission to act and permission to disagree. And if you disagree with their faulty thinking, you are the one who is wrong, not them.

So, what do you do? Do you keep quiet and let it “run its course?” I think not. The time to stand up and speak out against this foolish turn of human events is now. If not now, later will be too late and your children and grand children will be duped into believing it is OK to be a pervert. It is not. So there.

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It’s Just A Twig

Over the course of several days, I worked in my yard to get rid of a hedge row. With a front loader on a tractor, chain saw, pick ax, shovels, and a hatchet, I managed to delete the unmanageable bushes from the landscape. After hours of cutting and pulling, what is left is an apocalyptic looking area about 100’ long and 15’ wide. There are still a lot of dead roots sticking up and a few craters left by yanking out stumps.

After several days of rain, a few sunny days, and then more rain, I ventured out to see what steps are necessary to restore the area for sod and new, more manageable evergreens. This part of the yard, right beside the driveway, looks pretty bad right now. But as I surveyed the area, I saw something a bit strange—a small, actually tiny, conifer peeking up through the ravaged dirt.

Having no idea how the little pine got there, I decided to rescue it. I’ve always wanted to start a Japanese style bonsai from scratch and this is a close as I’ll ever get. I dug around the little root stem, very careful not to break it. Now, it is planted in a small black container with fertilizer. I’m optimistic it will live.

Why did I do it? Life. . .even though it is tiny and I’m not quite sure how to support it, it is alive and I’m going to do my best to help it mature into a mighty tree, albeit one I try to shape into what I want it to be.

This brings to mind the whole process of human babies coming into the world. As small as they are, and as much as they cannot fend for themselves, every one of them deserves the opportunity to live. It doesn’t matter how they came to be. . .they have life, and their life should be honored, not ended.

Just like my little tree, babies have to be nourished and their lives shaped by those who bring them into the world and raise them as sons and daughters. We must be careful to educate them, first at home and then in whatever schools in which we enroll them. We must teach them how to respect the lives of others, the importance of family and community. And most of all, we must tell them about God in Jesus Christ.

The twig may become a tree, but sooner or later it will grow old, begin to decay, and it will die. Likewise, every human who lives faces death sooner or later. As I grow older and all the aches and pains of the aged creep upon me, I realize my responsibility to share what I know with younger generations. God has been good to me, way better than I have been in return. One thing I know for sure—Jesus Christ came into this world to provide an abundant life for all who trust him. And he came to offer a place to live for me and all who know him when we die.

My little pine is just a twig today; what it will become only God knows for sure. What I have become is a man who trusts the Lord Jesus Christ without reservation. I’m looking forward to heaven and living forever in the presence of a loving God.

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I’m an Extremist

I just found out that I’m an extremist, a real threat to the American way of life. Just a few years ago I discovered that I’m also a deplorable because of what I believe.

Apparently, a nuclear family, that is, one with a married mother and father that has children being reared in their home, is dangerous and un-American according to a politician who currently holds office in South Dakota. She made the claim because Family Heritage Alliance, also based in South Dakota, believes that “the safest place for kids are in families that have a married mom and dad.”

This state house rep gives as her credentials being a “patient experience specialist.” That means she sat behind a desk and welcomed patients into a medical office to fill out their paperwork.” That is one powerful resume’ for injecting your useless opinion about families into the American discussion of what is right and wrong in society today.

I’m sorry, but this is just wrong. The worst part is that it made national news. This sort of pandering to the far left political machine does nothing to strengthen an already weak America. It only adds fuel to the system that wants to destroy everything that made America strong.

Moral Piracy

In the movie Captain Phillips, the US cargo ship Maersk Alabama, which is 508 feet long, over 80 feet wide, with a deadweight tonnage of over 35 million pounds, was attacked by Somali skiffs that are open hull boats about 30 feet long, with a narrow beam, usually weighing under 1,000 pounds. When you think about the vast difference between those types of vessels, and the fact that cargo ships sit high above the water line even when they are fully loaded, and the boat that attacked Maersk had a pirate crew of 4 while the Maersk had a crew of 20, how in the world did the Somalis board and overpower the ship and crew?

The first reason is that when you are on a big boat sitting tall in the water, you feel safe. The security you feel is obviously false, but it’s still present in the minds of those on the big boat. Secondly, you represent a big, powerful company and they always do their due diligence to make sure you are safe, right? And third, can 4 or 5 pirates do that will hurt you on that big, safe boat?

The pirates are never the problem. The problem is lack of preparation, knowing how to respond, having a plan in place, and executing the plan effectively. Those ships move along slowly and the din of sea and engines dulls the senses to just about everything.

And so it is with morality. Morality refers to a set of principles or a code of conduct that determines what is considered right or wrong, good or bad, appropriate or inappropriate within a particular society, group, or by an individual. It involves intentions, decisions, and actions. It is based on philosophy, religion, culture, and individual values handed down through generations.

People with high morals generally act in the best interest of those around them; i.e., the majority. People with low morals almost always act within a very small sphere of influence and could care less about the greater good.

What has happened in Western culture, North America in particular, is that individuals and small groups with perverted morals have begun to influence the greater good by attacking like the pirates. They started small and worked their way up. They smiled and cooperated for a while to get their foot in the door. Then they began to redefine terms to suit their agenda. Then, when the “big” guys weren’t paying attention, they brought out their big guns for a takeover.

Admittedly, they have done a pretty good job. Thankfully, the people who live quiet lives, work hard, and care about their neighbors, have awakened to the moral perversion. Companies, individuals in small town, and even celebrities are calling out the hijackers.

What is going on around us in a society of otherwise peaceful people, is a bunch of thugs and sexual deviants who want their way regardless of who they hurt. They are like the sexually aberrant men in the biblical story of Sodom, from which, by the way, we get the word sodomy. The mindset was give us what we want, period. If you don’t, we will tear down your door and take it anyway.

And so it goes in every society that forgets God. Oh yeah, here it comes. The mythical creature in space who looks down an punishes. No, not really. Instead, the great God of the universe who loves mankind and wants what is best for him/her. As has been said many times, the moral slide in America began when prayer was removed from schools and further perpetuated when Americans fell for the lie of separation of church and state.

But there is always hope if those who believe in morality stand up and defend the historic meaning of the word against those who seek to destroy it.

Losing Your Way

Have you ever been somewhere unfamiliar only to discover you were lost? No phone, no map, alone, in the dark, just about out of gas, hungry, tired, and cold because it’s snowing all around and the temperature is hovering at about 10 degrees? Now what? How do you handle it?

You didn’t mean to lose your way, did you? In fact, it was just a moment or two ago that you thought you knew where you were and you’d soon arrive at your destination. And then, before the cold air got you, a cold chill ran down your spine from the realization you were in a pickle.

OK, your lost, cold and hungry. Step One: I have no idea what step one is because I’m lost, I’m scared even though I don’t want to admit it, and there are some shady looking characters outside my window that I just know want to hurt me, or worse.

OK, back to Step One. Step One: get a grip. You’re lost; we’ve established that. Step Two: get help. Oh no, I’m not asking those people who don’t look like me for help. They will take everything I have, beat me to a pulp, and leave me for dead.

Wait. Back to Step Two. Ask for help. Otherwise, you might sit here in the cold and freeze to death. Your options are very limited. OK, OK, I got this. . .no you don’t; you’re a mess and you just don’t want to admit it.

Step Three: Listen to the help that is offered. Unh-uh, nope. I’m not getting out and going with those people. I’ll freeze alone, first. Wait, wait, wait. Step Three requires a clear head. Settle down and consider the help that has been offered.

Step Four: At this point, people who really seem to care about your welfare have offered assistance—take it. When you are in a mess, you can use all the help you can get. And sometimes, you have to look out beyond the immediate need and think about the future.

Step Five: When the nice people who offered to help take you to a safe place until morning, you get warm food and a place to crash, and then they help you dig your car out and get on your way—with goodies and a smile—be sure to say, “Thank you.”

I’ve been in that kind of situation more than once and it is a bit scary. But I want to tell you about another manner of losing your way, even though you’ve been following a good path for some time.

Almost every time, losing your way does not happen suddenly, it is a gradual thing. One day everything is fine and then, all-of-a-sudden, everything is messed up. Nope. It wasn’t all-of-a-sudden, it was a gradual series of events that led you to where you realized you were no longer in control. . .because you lost your way.

A couple of years ago, I was diagnosed as a diabetic, mild, yet I had arrived at that magic sugar number where you are diagnosed whether you like it or not. I tried to deny it, but the facts were all there in a neat logistical spreadsheet for my viewing pleasure. It’s kind of like driving down the highway in the middle of a sunny day, not paying attention to the map, oh, excuse me, the GPS, and your wife says, “You missed your turn.” You respond, “No I didn’t, I know what I’m doing.” Then, a few minutes later, you are backtracking while she just smiles in victory and without saying a word, you know she is thinking, “ITYS.” I don’t even want to spell it out.

My mind is extremely analytical, overly mathematical, and more than a little bent toward OCD. I couldn’t change my health by complaining. I had to do something. Immediately, prescription medication was ordered (I still don’t like it) and a dietary plan needed to be developed. Against my “better” judgment, a visit to a nutritionist was made, attended, and life-change began to happen.

It’s funny (not ha-ha funny—you know what I mean). You can call it fate if you like, dumb luck, whatever; the truth is, God sent me to a divine appointment with a young lady half my age who knew her stuff. At one point she dragged out a plastic plate with plastic food and showed my how to do portion control, choose the right carbs, proteins, ad nauseam. But she was right and I knew it. My problem was not diabetes, my problem was me.

Truly, I had no idea what was going on in my body. But elevated sugar levels along side thickening arteries, a failing heart valve, and having had multiple cancers, got my attention. So, I went to work and had great success lowering all the numbers that were high and, for the first time in my adult life, actually had low cholesterol.

All of that brings me to this past Sunday. My oldest granddaughter was college bound in a couple of days and the only time we could get together with the family was Sunday evening. Debbie, my wife, and I headed to the grocery store and bought a gallon of neapolitan ice cream, Oreos (and for goodness sake, an Oreo is two black cookies with white creamy stuff inside that’s about as thick as the cookies), and then we ordered three (3) large pizzas. We already had a beautiful banana bread that my sweet granddaughter had made.

So, the family arrived, we prayed, thanking God for all his goodness, and we dug in for the duration. I had 3, 4, or 5 slices, for the life of me I can’t remember—wink, wink, banana bread with all three flavors of ice cream, and about half a sleeve of Oreos with a glass of milk.

It got late, the family left, we cleaned up, and I was sick as a dog. What happened? Did I eat “a little to much?” Sunday night really didn’t have anything to do with it. Over the course of the last two or three months, I managed to lose my way. Add a little sugar here, add a little more there, ignore the warning signs as just indigestion and the increasing waistline as just a little gas.

Monday morning, after telling Debbie I wasn’t going to check my sugar on Sunday evening sort of as a joke, I got out the test strip, the finger pricker, and the monitoring device. 165. Now I was really scared. Never in my life has my sugar ever been that high. But anytime you face and face and face a situation, over and over, up and down, victory and defeat, the never-ending-circle, you sometimes just mindlessly give in to “enjoy life” all the while killing yourself from the inside out.

Food does it, drugs do it, social media does it, and on and on. But losing control does not mean the end of the world—unless you lose it and leave it lost. My postscript to this is that after 6 days of “teetotaling,” (no added sugar, no bread, no potatoes), my sugar is back under control, my focus on health is regained, and I’m off to the race of life once again with a smile and a thankful heart.

For anyone reading this who feels lost in the world, not because of some bad habit or the inability to follow a roadmap, but because you feel empty inside, you feel like you have no power to live life fully, or you just want to give up, I have one piece of advice. Don’t give up. Never look down on yourself, always look up for help, never give in to whatever hurts, and always be willing to give out to help someone else.

Whether you realize it or not, your perusing this missive is no accident. God put this on my heart to tell you that Jesus really does love you—so much, he died for you and defeated death to give you life. The theology I teach is really simple. Jesus SAVES. If I can help, let me know.

Blowing in the Breeze

A few days ago, as I drove down a main thoroughfare in my community, I saw hundreds of pages that appeared to to have been torn from a book flying in the wind. It was near a busy intersection. When I saw the cover, I immediately knew someone had destroyed, or at least tried to destroy, a bible.

Counting me, there were 5 people in the street busily picking up the pages by the handful. I don’t know if the others knew it was a bible or not. I’m not even sure why any of us were scurrying about picking up pages like it was some sort of assignment to rescue top secret papers for the NSA.

When I reached the curb with my wad of crumpled paper, a young person, probably 12 or 13 years old, asked what it was that I seemed determine to save. I told him that these were the pages from a bible that had apparently been torn apart and scattered. With a somewhat puzzled look in his eyes, he asked me why? Why did I find it necessary to walk into a busy intersection to retrieve what I could buy at a big box store for only a few bucks.

Frankly, I did not have a good answer. In fact, I was sort of thinking the same thing. Why did I, along with others, do this? For me, when I saw the cover of the book flipping and flopping across the street, it did become a mission of sorts. I was glad to see others joining in the rescue.

As are as I could tell, we got most of the pages before they disappeared into one of many surrounding parking lots. It was then that I discovered why I was there. This young man, joined now by some other youngsters, said to me, “I’ve never owned a bible.” He said it as if he were looking for permission to take the pages off my hands. I told him I was very sorry to hear that and I would be happy to go buy him one. With a youthful shrug of his shoulders, he looked up at me and replied, “I think I’d like to have what’s left of this one, if you don’t mind.”

My heart was crushed and full of joy at the same time. By now, I knew Mark’s name and he knew mine. I knew he had never attended church in his short life and he knew I was a retired pastor. I handed him the pages that appeared to be a lot of the New Testament, including my favorite book, Philippians. He was ready to go and I asked him if I could give him something else. He said sure. I pulled out my wallet and handed him an invite card to my church along with a $20 bill. “Take you buddies across the street for ice cream,” I said, “or just keep it for yourself and maybe buy a whole bible.”

I received a big hug from a young person who seconds before was a total stranger. But not anymore. I didn’t get the opportunity to tell him about the love of God in Jesus Christ, but if he looks into those wrinkled pages, he’ll find it for himself. Maybe he’ll show up at church and I can introduce him to some other young people who, like himself, are trying to figure out life–and at the same time have a real, abiding love for God.

Maybe I’ll never see him again. But at least for a little while he is holding the word of life in his hands. If he keeps it and reads it, he’ll be able to figure out what life is really all about. I sure hope so.

Finally, as I pondered what had happened, the words of John in the New Testament came to mind. Jesus encountered a man named Nicodemus. Nicodemus was a very religious man, but not a man of faith. Part of their discussion goes like this, “This man came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him.” Jesus answered him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?” Jesus answered, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not marvel that I said to you, ‘You must be born again.’ The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

Even a breeze has purpose. Sometimes it is just to carry the word of God into the hands of someone who has never been touched by its power.

VAMSA2025

I was sitting in my office this morning reading through news highlights, thinking about a lot of the stuff going on in our country right now, and it occurred to me that the solution to a lot, if not most, of this chaos is pretty simple.

So, I offer to you my solution which is called the Voting Accountability and Military Security Act of 2025. Any member of Congress is welcome to take this and use it as long as you promise not to expand it, modify it, or screw it up with amendments.

VOTING ACCOUNTABILITY & MILITARY SECURITY ACT OF 2025

Section One: Voting Accountability

All persons voting in Federal, State, & Local elections shall be citizens of the United States able to prove their citizenship and residency with appropriate documentation including but not limited to a valid Social Security Card, a valid Driver’s License with photo ID, birth certificate, or other identifying documents.
All persons voting will be required be gainfully employed and contributing to Social Security (unless opted out) and up to date on Federal employment tax payments.
No person receiving Federal Welfare funds will be allowed to vote unless they have documentation verifying that they are unable to work due to physical limitations verifiable by a physician.
All persons who are non-citizens will not be allowed to approach or enter any voting location.

Section Two: Military Security

All citizens [cited in Section One, Number 1], who are between the ages of 18 and 25, will participate in a military conscription process to begin on January 1, 2026.
Only persons who are found to be physically incapacitated will be excused for conscription.
All persons included in #1 may, at their discretion, volunteer for service in the United States Army, United States Navy, United States Air Force, or United States Marines prior to or during the process of conscription.
All persons entering military service as the result of conscription will serve for a minimum of two years after which any service will be considered voluntary.
All persons who serve for the two years of conscription will, at the end of their service, if they decide not to continue their military service, receive $50,000.00 toward the trade education certification of their choice. Any amount of this fund not used toward trade education will be returned to the United States Treasury.
All persons cited in Section Two, #1, who refuse military service, will be denied voting rights, the ability to receive any Federal funds for any purpose, and their names will be added to a federal registry available to all employers.

Now, I’ll just leave this here and await the responses and comments. I can hardly wait!