Forty years ago the writings of Francis Schaeffer delaminated culture, society, and humanity’s longing. Reading his books was akin to pulling the curtain back to reveal the Wizard of Oz.

Dr. Schaeffer’s thesis was that the arts reveal the heart of humanity’s desires.

During my years working in the aftermath of the Communist East Bloc, the societies I delved into were destitute after fifty years of oppression—oppression in the form of constriction upon culture, complete with horrendous human and economic duress, in order to implement Socialistic-Communist ideology on millions of vulnerable souls. While all these countries had rich histories, the Hungarians were the most artistic—and at the time, they had the highest per capita suicide rate in the world.

The arts, just as Dr. Schaeffer demonstrated, are indeed windows into the soul.

My growing-up years transpired during the tumultuous 1960s and 70s. My generation was angry, rebellious—no fortunate one. Consequently, our music was angry and rebellious. Our fashions and art mirrored the same discontent.

Dr. Schaeffer’s thesis was insightful again.

Search the lyrics of today’s rap music. It’s not difficult to grasp the hopeless, hostile attitudes gripping the next generations. There is a reason America’s cities are burning, suicide rates are skyrocketing among young people, and our children are isolating with devices. America’s young men of working age are staying home in huge percentages. Those charged with ensuring the balance of power is maintained in government—the media—have abdicated their professional calling, instead using their platforms to promote bias.

Are we blind? Can what plagues us be discerned? Dr. Schaeffer would say, yes.

In fact, in our descent into cultural darkness, our desperation bleeds over from the bellwethers of the arts into the routines of culture, life, and societal wellbeing. The logic is simple: Desperate people do desperate things—and as desperation escalates, so does desperate behavior.

A case in point: As I have explored in my earlier writings, the right to choose life or death for the unborn has grown progressively more demanding. When Roe was passed in 1974, there was enough medical ambiguity to debate when life in the womb began and when that life became viable. Groups like the Catholic church erred on the side of conservatism, declaring that life begins at conception. At the other end of the spectrum, the argument of choice was that abortion is a woman’s right to choose.

Of course, “It’s a woman’s right to choose…” is an incomplete sentence.

Choose what?

The medical ambiguity of 1974 is now medically clarified.

Today it is possible to see into the womb. A child is viable outside the womb at 22 or 23 weeks. A fetus feels pain earlier yet and is in possession of its own heartbeat around 6-8 weeks gestation. This is not conjecture. This is medically demonstrable.

One would think a civilized society would consider these medical insights, follow the science, and say, “Oh my soul! Abortion is a violent act against our children.”

One would think.

On Election Day 2022, the residents of the State of Montana—a Conservative bastion—voted against requiring medical personnel to render aid to infants born alive at any stage during pregnancy.

Now pause a moment. Consider the sentence you just read.

Ponder: A woman goes into labor, or a woman is having a late-term abortion. She delivers her infant, or the abortion is botched and a living infant is delivered. The great State of Montana just voted 52% to 47% to deny required care for that infant.

Tiny lungs gasping for first breath, lips and tongue searching reflexively for Mom’s nipple, supple skin longing for touch, crying eyes not yet open—is left writhing on a stainless-steel table until life escapes its grasp.

The State of Montana just voted this into law.

What are we coming to?

Want a clear picture of what freedom of choice looks like as an end game? Want to know what the “women’s healthcare” advanced by the media and Planned Parenthood is actually about?

Desperate measures are necessary to assuage souls writhing in desperation. The State of Montana just voted this into law.

Western culture is no longer nuanced. The wizard is no longer cloaked behind a curtain. Alarmingly, we have moved beyond Dr. Schaeffer’s thesis.

Today, our discontent is blatant. We are missing the message, and our failure to acknowledge, take responsibility, and adjust our trajectory is egregious and our societal norms are the new bellwether sounding the alarm.

Look no farther than Montana. Look no farther than a suicide rate among our youth that has quadrupled. Every time you walk into a business with a “help wanted” sign on the door, understand that America’s young men are hiding at home—in triple-digit percentages.

There are two responses at this juncture:

One is to cry, wail, bemoan and then cloister yourself behind a bolted door, another Bible study, reruns of “Friends”, Gin and Tonic before lunch, and pray that Jesus comes back. Quick!

Second: Cry acid tears for the babies, the infirmed and aged (“universal” healthcare is being denied them), the abused, disavowed, disillusioned, destitute, and demoralized. But then!! Then. (Take a deep breath.) Then, through tear-blurred eyes, thank the babies and other sacrificial lambs for their service to society—service in that the loss of their lives may bring us to our senses in this life. Then, calling upon the resident Spirit of God, turn your attention to life in these United States and consider your place within it.

A significant reason you signed up for these articles from Lifetime/PHG is to encourage yourself with a clear message of grace.

If you read carefully, you hear the message of mercy and grace and new identity in Christ in every article. After all, no matter the endeavor in which you engage, from cooking dinner to reading your Bible, every aspect of life rests upon foundational fundamentals. (This is why I wrote Rigorous Grace.) It is essential to effective, efficient, and excellent practice of godly living that you maintain your foundational proficiency.

But if celebrating your new identity in Christ, resting in His tender mercy, finding comfort in your forgiveness, your heavenly destination, and being cloaked in God’s grace do not translate to every breath you take, then your faith does you NO earthly good, not to mention your fellow man.

Just as culture is conveying in primary colors its dilemmas, so is Christianity. The health of the church is now black and white. The faithful tell researches that the church and its message are no longer relevant. Meaning: What the faithful hear on Sunday does not transfer to Monday.

Thus, a faith practically applied is paramount.

It is simply not good enough for Lifetime/PHG to tell you to walk in the Spirit, to pray, to resist the temptations of the flesh, etc. No, to do our best by you and before God, it is our commitment to stay with the issue until it can be practically applied. Once done, collectively the force of the Gospel in us and through us is—can be—exponential. Woohoo!

Thus, the question is not whether or not you are a new creation in Christ. It is not whether or not you are secure in Christ, redeemed, set apart to Him alone, or whether or not your future in heaven is a foregone conclusion because of Jesus’ sacrificial effort on your behalf. No, the question is…

Where to from here?

What now?

What do you do as a citizen, mixing and mingling in a culture rife with angst, screaming—literally hear that abandoned infant on the clinic table—for love, redemption, security, and a way forward?

Stay with me now. Your prayer each morning is not, “Oh God! Save me. Come quick?”

Granted. There’s nothing wrong with, “Maranatha,” but until Jesus saddles His white horse, your prayer as a redeemed soul is confidence now, not desperation.

“Father God. It’s me, Pres. My eyes are bleeding tears. Sickness is in my soul, Papa. Oh, my. But another day is dawning. Never in my lifetime has the world convulsed such in its longing for redemption. Father, will you use my tears to help me see clearly, speak as you give me counsel, and be your arms loving, reaching, assisting, guiding? I thank you for your security, acceptance, and place in your family. Brother Jesus: I’m grateful that nothing can alter who I am and whose I am. But from this place of confidence, please give me your wherewithal to live and keep my wits about me. Amen.”

It's a good prayer, an essential, daily prayer. Yet, there is discontent in my soul. Unrest. Disconsolation.

I’m still plagued: Why our babies?

From the early days of human history, sacrificing our children is a recurring theme. From slitting their throats on the high-place altars in the Old Testament, to tossing children into the volcanoes of Hawaii, to abortion as healthcare, to abandonment of infants beside roads in China—and now on hospital tables in Montana—millions of infants have laid down their young lives to help us, the adults in the room, come to our senses.

Where to from here?

As the redeemed of the Lord, we step into the world with an applied faith, crystal clear about what’s at stake: The world is writhing and wriggling and wailing and gasping for a Savior. Our children are a living-dying metaphor of what our lives are apart from God.

Am I advancing the cause of evangelism? Yes, but let me offer a clear vision of what that means before I let you go.

First, as a person of grace, you are a recipient of the Gospel, salvation—the necessary aspects of being made right with God (cf. Rm. 5:12ff). While wonderful and remarkable, this is not the advanced depth of the mature Christian life. This is the beginning point of the Christian life—the basic necessity for justification in the mind of God. As the beneficiary of God’s mercy (His lovingkindness), “Where to from here, Father?” is your responsive prayer.

Second—and theology applied: Years ago, Bill Bright, Founder of Campus Crusade, was held up as the evangelist to model myself after. Dr. Bright believed any conversation that lasted two minutes or longer was a divine appointment. The insistence of those mentoring me in the faith was: Be like Dr. Bright.

Except, Dr. Bright was a profound extrovert—an evangelist by calling. I’m a profound introvert—a mentoring coach by calling.

To this exception, my spiritual guides applied desperate shame: “People are hell-bound while you wait longer than two minutes to engage them with the Gospel. Brother, if they go to hell, you’re to blame.”

It took a long time for me to calm down, to compose myself, to have a conversation with God about His vision for me in this world. In the end, it was a simple revelation.

He reminded me that He didn’t need me to do anything for Him. How could he? Whatever Father may be, He is not destitute.

Rather, His interest is that I participate in what He’s doing in me and around me.

Then, the practical application: Be me. Just me, dedicated to living in the power of the Spirit. Loving, caring, engaging—and doing so honestly, genuinely, and sincerely.

Here’s the deal: I don’t engage deeply with anyone about anything in the space of two minutes. My style is like fine wine or expensive bourbon: I age with you, grow on you, add depth and breadth and complexity to your life. I make your life more robust. That’s me—and I don’t happen in two minutes.

So when I pray, “Father, live through me today,” the above paragraph is what I look like, filled with the Spirit, engaging the world around me, being redemptive, salt and light in an unsavory and dark place.

Ask yourself this question: What is your relational style day-in, day-out? Whatever that is, unless you are a pimp, pusher, or head of the cartel, then the demeanor in which you live each day is likely the style of how the Holy Spirit will demonstrate redemption through you. Be you. Trust the Spirit in you, to live through you. Then, get off your knees and step into the world, with your eyes open and your head on a swivel, looking for Father to show up and invite your engagement with Him.  

I hope I’ve made my case: The world is screaming for assistance. You are equipped. You are called. You are secure.

Now! Now! Ooh rah!  

Rock ‘n roll—and keep your wits about you. Today is your finest moment. Get after it—while the good folks in Montana are shoveling snow.