Some mornings I wake up feeling as though I’m in some poorly written telenovela. Just when you thought Ignacio and Isabel would live happily ever after, here comes the dramatic music, and a wrench is thrown into the works that tests their love, devotion, and commitment. What do you mean you are not Ignacio, but rather Ignacio’s twin brother Fernando?
While the self-titled good people are trying to stuff the corks back into their champagne bottles and feel as though they wasted the weekend practicing sorrowful looks in the mirror while inwardly gleeful, evidence continues to mount that you can be seventy-four, chunky, and averse to physical exertion, and still survive the dreaded virus we’ve been told will kill us all if we don’t lock ourselves in our basements, and breathe through a face diaper.
Think what you will of this current president, but he has a way of upending a narrative like nobody else. A cough, some shortness of breath, and three days, and a declarative statement, that it’s counterproductive to let fear control your life and dominate you.
These past few days have been very telling. The folks who insist that they bleed empathy and belch magnanimity were the first ones to wish death upon a man, his wife, and anyone else in his sphere that dared not fall in line with their demented ramblings of gender spectrums or disagreed that milking a cow is tantamount to rape.
The mask has slipped, and what we got a glimpse of was grotesque and unnerving. No, these are not nice people. They are not empathetic or magnanimous. They are ghouls who pretend otherwise and put on a show to fool the gullible. They know that if anyone did see their true nature if anyone did get a glimpse of who they really are, they would naturally recoil in horror, but they couldn’t help themselves.
It was too rich, too juicy, to rife with possibilities. They could not contain their glee, and though many a botoxed mouth uttered the requisite thoughts and prayers, the glimmer in their eyes spoke immeasurably more. Reporters were already asking Nancy Pelosi if she’d measured for new drapes in the oval office, somehow skipping over the fact that there was still a Vice President who would take up the reins if anything were to incapacitate the president.
So why talk about this? Because you need to understand the depravity of those who would take the reins of power in this country if the decent folks sit on the sidelines. You need to understand the hollowness and inhumanity that they have devolved into, and once you do, maybe ask yourself what they would be willing to let you endure to achieve their goal.
Do not be indifferent to the present in the hope of a better future. Do not sit idly by because someone you know did the math, and this is it, rapture’s coming, and there’s no point to anything anymore anyway. This is why I’m not a fan of setting dates. If it causes you to be inactive, inert, complacent, or indifferent, it is counterproductive, and dare I say, antithetical to biblical teaching. Work, fight, run, pursue, take hold. Do that which you would do if Christ’s return were a thousand years away, that He might find you laboring, engaged, active, and productive when He does show.
Maybe I’m missing something, but the thought of His return ought to make us more active, not less. When the finish line is within sight, you don’t slow down; you speed up.
With love in Christ,
Michael Boldea Jr.
Posted on 6 October 2020 | 10:58 am
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