Zark Christmas

Merry Christmas!

After four gruelling years, hope is beginning to show on the horizon. The best gift of all. The last few years have felt like pure totalitarian punishment: forced vaccines, unlawful imprisonment, crime gone wild, inflation, war, strife, depravity galore, mad supervillains run amok, and even the prospect of alien drones (!). But normalcy is on the horizon.

Normalcy in the form of not one but many God-fearing men and women, entering public life to clean up the mess left by their predecessors. Predecessors who appear to have been inspired by God-hating atheism. Their lack of respect for God led them to think they could accurately identify problems in nature that they could fix. Things like gender, climate, disease, and even the thoughts of fellow humans.

The arrogance of the left, and willful defiance of God’s will, was stunning. The fact it was allowed to happen, and the resulting disaster, should be a permanent reminder to never allow it again. For most of my life, I was willing to abide by the convention that almost anything can be tolerated, so long as it was localized to the individual doing it, and didn’t infringe on others.

What I learned is that some things, like corruption, prostitution, crime, or moral debauchery, cannot be contained. They will grow until they are stopped. They will grow again if not uprooted, and the roots reduced to ash.

I look forward to the New Year in a way I never have before. Before, I didn’t know why any given year could be better than another. For the past four years I’ve been hoping the next year wouldn’t be worse than the last one, and was disappointed every time. 2025, I feel, will be different.

Thinking about this reminds me of my favorite memory from when I was young.

In 1977, I was eleven years old. My best friend was a tall skinny kid named Dayton. I wore his hand-me-downs, though they didn’t fit, because my mom couldn’t afford to buy clothes. Dayton’s family were Christians. I was an atheist. My opinion was that the Bible was a science fiction story designed to trick gullible people into passivity. At least, that was my opinion then.

Dayton’s family lived in the Santa Cruz mountains on a 12 acre lot. Dayton’s dad, George, was building their house by himself, from scratch. He’d already dug out the foundation and built a garage to store their things. Meanwhile, they all used a small RV as a house. If they wanted to watch TV in the garage, they had to pour gas in their generator for electricity. For light, they used kerosene lamps.

I was at Dayton’s for the July 4th weekend that year. My mom dropped me off, and for the next three days I looked forward to a lot of fun on Dayton’s 12 acres. On Sunday morning, instead of the canned fruit cocktail or beans I might get at home, Dayton’s mom, Sara, served eggs and sausages (as many as I wanted), milk, and orange juice. It was a good meal, and one I still remember fondly. That, and Sara’s smile.

“Andy, we’re going to a picnic in the mountains today, at our church. You boys are going to have a great time,” she said.

My heart sank. Dayton looked at me like I was an evil sinner. He knew I was an atheist. I explained to Sara my theory about the Bible and science fiction. Nothing I said perturbed her, nor was I able to get out of the occasion. I was going to church for the first time. My fantastic weekend had just turned into something irritating and somewhat ominous. Dayton’s family was smiling, but I wasn’t. As far as I was concerned, this was bad. Very bad.

The church, the Mountain Bible Church of (I think) Los Gatos, California, was an old-fashioned white building with a steeple. It sat in a small clearing on a mountain top, and was surrounded by a lawn and huge trees. I don’t remember the sermon, but I remember something about that day, place, and the people around me: it was normal.

The smiles were genuine, the abundant food was good, the games we played after church were fun, but more than anything else, I felt safe for the first time in my life. For a few hours, nestled deep in the Santa Cruz mountains, safe because I was surrounded by Christians who believed in God, understood their obligations to Him, and were making an effort for a needy child (me).

It was the greatest day of my life.

I didn’t start changing my mind about God until much later, but the memory of that day was always in the back of my mind. It was an example I couldn’t forget, of what was possible with cooperation, a good heart, and most of all, good guidance based on Biblical principles.

This is why America will be great again. Because people capable of administering that good guidance, who both fear and love God, are about to restore our nation.

Merry Christmas.