In Word or Deed

Photo by Zoltan Kovacs on Unsplash I've seen quite a few posts on social media lately insinuating that any Christian who has anything to say against illegal immigration is being hypocritical. They point out that the Bible tells us to care for the homeless and those in need and so we are guilty of ignoring what we claim to believe. Some even go so far as to claim that this behavior is a telltale sign of our inherent racism and selfishness, that all of our so called righteousness is nothing more than a now crumbling facade. While I don't doubt that there are plenty of people to whom this rightfully does apply, allow me a brief defense of my own position on this particular topic if you don't mind. I would say that the issue of immigration, illegal or otherwise, as well as the whole refugee issue comes down to two distinct levels of responsibility; the individual and the national. Let's talk about the personal responsibility first. As an indivi

Photo by Heather Mount on Unsplash Do you have a life's purpose? Is there something beyond or above yourself that influences your choices? I ask because it would seem that the current of modern culture is moving more and more toward the idea that the ultimate ethic is my own freedom and choice, with the only overarching ethic being that we should support the rights of other people to also follow their own desires. While this doesn't seem too terrible an idea at the start it does lead us down a rather unfortunate rabbit hole. Modern man is more and more losing the ability to live for anything beyond himself and what he finds comfortable, enjoyable, or agreeable. Really, this is just the natural outworking of pluralism and the post-modern mentality. We've taken away any idea of a meta-narrative, of an overarching truth that explains and pertains to every aspect of life. There is no objective truth in the philosophy of modern man and thus there is onl

Photo by Samuel Zeller on Unsplash I used to think that everyone else was lucky. They all had passions, they all had dreams. In others I saw consuming desires that propelled them into their futures. Some wanted to be doctors others engineers, others soldiers, while I sat to the side and didn't know what I wanted to be. I used to think I was broken, that some crucial part of me was damaged or simply missing or that I'd failed to pick it up along the way. Now that I'm a bit older I've begun to wonder, was I just hoping for something to make the decision for me? Is there any inherent merit in a passion that you did not choose and a life that merely carried you along? I can't help but think that maybe what I saw as a self-propelled desire was really the outworking of a personal decision to pursue a goal. Was I longing for something that nobody actually possessed? I like to write, I love it even. I genuinely enjoy sitting down and putting tho