Text: A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for the disciple to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household. (Matthew 10:24-25)

Context: In the immediate context, Jesus was teaching his twelve disciples about what to expect (Matthew 10:1). He was teaching them that they were chosen, commissioned, that they were to be courageous, and that they were being sent into conflict. The four C’s: chosen, commissioned, courage, and conflict. 

Connection to Our Day: When I step back and reflect upon our day, and I try to understand the spiritual darkness overtaking the land, and I see utter stupidity conquer institution over institution, and I see my own nation possibly choosing socialism/Marxism to its own ruin, it grieves me beyond words. If anyone has ever traveled to countries who were/are socialist-Marxist, what you see is poverty, the elimination of human rights, corruption, deprivation, government, government, government, and human suffering. Sometimes I find myself wishing folks would actually travel and see how much of the rest of the world lives. Then they would understand why people long to become Americans. I don’t see folks forming crusades and marching into Venezuela, Russia, or China. But the sheeple just go on and ingest lies of politicians who fake their accents to pimp voters, and Satan smiles. It just seems some folks refuse to learn anything. They don’t think until it’s too late, and the enemies are not just at the gate, but have destroyed the gate and overtaken their home.

Encouragement/takeaway: Because the nature of the battle is primarily spiritual/theological, the Christian must have courage. Why? Because he/she is sent into conflict. Listen to Christ’s words again: “It is enough for the disciple to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household” (Matthew 10:25). We undercut our efficacy if we minimize the overt spiritual battle we are in. Remember Paul’s words: “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12). Believers are to expect slander, expect suffering, endure hardship, but serve faithfully in the midst of all that. That’s the process. That’s the design. Christ was crucified, dear reader. He wasn’t crowned with laurel leaves but mocked with thorns pressed into his scalp and spat upon by the mobs of the mindless. We need to get real about what’s in our faces and have courage amidst the conflict. 

It happened again.

When I got off the plane, I had a couple of hours until my next flight. I was in Concourse D, which I like, because it has Grindhouse Killer Burgers in it. The burgers are good; the breakfast is good; and in my experience, the service is good (a not altogether common occurrence in the Atlanta airport). When I stepped up to the counter, a friendly lady with a black ponytail greeted me and thanked me for my service (I was in uniform).

“Would you like a menu, sir?” she asked.

“No, ma’am. Thank you. I can already tell you what I want.”

I gave her my order and looked around the place while waiting for my breakfast.

Several travelers were sitting at small round black tables and staring into their laptops and smartphones. Another man was at the end of the bar, with a glass of beer in front of him. He looked at me and saluted me from his barstool. I nodded in return and thanked him.

He was wearing a black t-shirt and the sleeves had the U.S. flag on both sides and “This we’ll defend” on the back side.

A few moments later the friendly Hispanic woman returned with my sausage and egg breakfast sandwich. “Your meal has been taken care of, sir,” she said.

I looked again at the man with the beer at the end of the bar. He nodded at me again, as we both understood something.

Thank you, sir. I have a strong sense we are aligned.

‘Twas another blessing to be back in Iowa with fellow soldiers. Was able to break bread together, pray for them (though they may’ve not known), teach a curriculum re personality, communication styles, and how we tend to react under duress, and it was all, once again, a blessing.

I get it–trust me–that the world has, generally speaking, gone bonkers–wonky, in fact–but I am a soldier to my core and I know and love my brothers, and they’re not bonkers. In fact, as always, they are the bulwark: they are driven, driven, driven, and they’ll finish the job. (Don’t ever underestimate your local patriot-soldiers; they’re a bulwark against what’s coming, against what’s already here.) When the government is large, the citizen is small, and your local citizen-soldier understands this and is out to preserve liberty from the ground up. He has not forgotten his roots.

After I taught today, I went and walked/ran for several miles in the beautiful parks of Iowa:

Iowa, you’ve great parks. Blessings upon you! And thank you for your great soldiers.

*I hope you will indulge my Beatles pics. I’ve been an unapologetic Beatles aficionado since my stepdad turned me on to them when I was a boy and he let me have his vinyl copy of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. After I memorized that album, I was hooked for life.

*The Beatles Invasion was a band that covered scores of the Fab Four’s tunes. I was on the edge of my seat, singing nearly every word aloud (my apologies to those within earshot).

“You say you want a revolution? Well, you know …”

*Puppy love is just the best (above).

Above, my friend Ann and I relished a day with huskies as we got to play with the dogs that either have run the Iditarod, or aim to. If you love dogs, and you appreciate those who live with, feed, nurture, and train these delightful and powerful creatures, I highly recommend the dog tour in Juneau. Ann and I had a blast. We got pulled on a ‘wheeled sled’ the dogs use in training; plus, we got an education in what all goes into dogsledding and the grueling regimen of man and his best friend.

Two of my buds let me capture their mugs on the seas. What great guys.

Some of us took to the rainy streets in Ketchikan.

“It was 20 years ago today …”

My peeps …

David, my bud, and some girl I really really like …

Oops, she’s back:-)

“We hope you have enjoyed the show . . .”

I caught David kissing on some girl. Shh … don’t tell.

Some good folks, right there …

On the ship in British Columbia.

D. and R. dancing the night away …

It is hard for me to say what I more enjoyed–spending time with dogsledders and their dogs (and puppies we got to hold) or the train ride through spectacular spaces, but here’s a sampling of the latter:

On the last leg of our journey back to Seattle from Alaska, we sailed to Victoria, British Columbia. It was a beautiful sunny day, and we were all on the deck, enjoying fellowship, sunshine, food, and music. (You can hear us and others talking on this short video.) My old iPhone does not do justice to the beauty, but here is a snippet nonetheless:

And here is Seattle at night (courtesy of my friend Ann):

Every wondered why it’s called Glacier Bay? Well, it lives up to its name:

It was so strange on the last flight home. The woman next to me had her ankles, legs, and thighs covered in tatoos of vines, weeds, and (perhaps) flowers, but it was her large hands and fake fingernails that discomfited me most. I don’t know what it is, but when I see something that is designed to be feminine and beautiful but it is twisted into images of foreboding and spiritual darkness, I get what Momo and Granddaddy called the “Heebie-Jeebies.” It’s a country way of saying, “Yikes! Look out! Darkness is here!”

When a woman’s fingers are pressed with fake nails of black and dark green, and the tips are pointed like those found in portrayals of the witches muttering in Macbeth, “Fair is foul, and foul is fair,” it’s ominous and darkness unfolds, as in the great tragedy. I looked over at her face. It was replete with piercings and steel loops and chains. There were piercings in her nose, above her eyebrows, between her nostrils, and more.

I was reading Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina on the flight back, but the pointed black tips to my left scratched mental scenes more from Macbeth than from AK into my thinking. I remain a Luddite, I suppose, where women are to be feminine and men are to be masculine, but as I see more and more in today’s unraveling culture of death and destruction, where we literally see men with beards walking around with purses and makeup and skirts and heels, and I–once again–understood why Romans 1 is just judgment for creatures who refuse their Creator.

The above is admittedly a sobering tone, and the subsequent posts will be mostly lighter fare. But we are in a strange time, and some folks have already long ago chosen the path of what Scripture calls folly, destruction, and suppression of the truth.