Questions
I receive a lot of questions. They come in the form of emails, private messages, subpoenas, etc. I cannot answer them all, but I am able to answer a few.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
I receive a lot of questions. They come in the form of emails, private messages, subpoenas, etc. I cannot answer them all, but I am able to answer a few.
George Washington cautioned in his Farewell Address that “reason and experience both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious principle.”
The day is Christmas. The era is ancient. The tiny farming village is located 50 miles from the big city, deep within the Apennine foothills. A young shepherd is guiding a flock of sheep down mainstreet. He’s talking to the sheep like they are people.
Every few years, somebody dusts off that 2007 YouTube-special “documentary” Zeitgeist like it’s forbidden knowledge smuggled out of the Vatican basement.
Christmas means many things to many different people, especially among the World’s major religions
A supermarket checkout line. Cheesy holiday music is playing overhead. Not the fun kind of cheesy music, but the kind once heard in Kmart á la 1973.
It’s hard to choose my favorite Christmas movie. Each time I try to pick one, I’m afraid I’ll shoot my eye out.
Someone once said life is short, but that’s not quite right. Life isn’t just short — it’s strategic. It’s the brief stage where humans decide whether they want to be restored imagers of God under Christ, or remain in rebellion with the powers who oppose Him.
Obviously, the Christian message about the Creator and Sovereign of the Universe sending part of himself to be human and experience his own creation is the hallmark of December.
All the kids were sitting criss-cross on the floor in a big hotel lobby, some sipping from paper cups of hot chocolate, most wearing pajamas.
She was a foster kid. Grew up in a group home. A place where you basically lived in a bunk. If you were lucky, you got to shower before the other kids drained the hot water tank.
The Christmas season was the busiest time of year for delivery-persons. Drivers saw a major uptick in workload. This did nothing to improve John’s sunny disposition.
My wife and I read aloud from our little Episcopal book, standing before our Advent candles, using solemn voices. The dogs were seated around our feet, trying to interpret our human words, listening closely for words like: “Ham.”
Letters from the children of Christmas Past. RHINELANDER, WI—1933. Dear Santa Claus, I am sorry I haven’t wrote before but my pet dog got his leg broke and I thought we would hafta have him killed but he will get well. …I am nine years old and bring me, dear old Santa, what you think …
This year, let’s slow down amid the frenzy of the Christmas season, seek the quiet light of God’s presence, and rediscover the peace and wonder of Christ’s birth.
Six years ago. The Waffle House was packed. There were customers everywhere. Shoulder to shoulder. Sardine-like. I don’t know how the waitress managed to find a place for us at the counter.
Things in America have changed since I was a boy. We were feral children during Christmas breaks. We were dangerous. We lived without helmets. We had BB guns. We ate saturated fat. And we were never, ever inside.
Christmas supper. The little girl beside me ate ferociously as though she had not eaten in 13 years when in fact she had already eaten two breakfasts, one Christmas lunch, half a bag of tortilla chips, a quarter of a cheese log, and various holiday snacks which all featured onion dip as a main ingredient.
Let’s face it: Christmas as we know it is a pagan festival dressed up in Christian clothes, with some glittery tinsel for good measure.