faith for faith

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Many times, “wrongful death” is at the root cause of a lawsuit, but what happens in the case of a “wrongful birth” charge?

In West Palm Beach, Florida, a couple sued a doctor and an ultrasound technician for negligence. The two claimed that they would have aborted their son, who was born with no arms and only one leg, had they known about his disabilities beforehand.

There’s not much more commentary that can be given on a judicial system that will award such a vast sum of money because a life was born (rather than murdered through abortion), and yet will let a man live who raped and murdered his 10-month-old stepdaughter. Imagine how you would feel if you were the child when you were old enough to comprehend that your parents preferred you to be killed, and they have a 4.5 million dollar check highlighting the intensity of that desire. Unbelievable.

It seems that the longer I live, the more the populace of this “great” country of ours resembles the judgment against humanity in Romans 1:18-32. And I’m not talking about an incident in New York City, another in San Francisco, and another in New Orleans on Mardi Gras, but I’m talking about at least two very striking incidents in Raleigh … in one day, nonetheless. First, a man who rapes and murders his 10-month-old stepdaughter somehow manages not to be condemned to death, and second, a female “pastor” declares that she will not perform any more heterosexual marriages until homosexual marriage is legal in North Carolina. Good grief.

I suppose I shouldn’t expect any different. I mean, presuming that the Bible is true, I should expect that the majority of this country’s citizens would be quick to shed blood, would desire to trade that which is natural for that which is unnatural (or at least support it), and would desire that justice not be done. And considering that we have been murdering millions of infants for decades, are infatuated with homosexuality, and are ignoring the blood of a 10-month-old child crying out from the ground, well, I say that we’ve pretty much arrived.

Because of these things, among many others, I’m not proud to be an American. In fact, I’m disgusted. And if I do, for some reason, find myself being proud to be an American, I loathe it. For I know that when all is said and done, America will be a small, rank spot of piss and blood on the fabric of history.

One thing, among many, that is different now I’ve given up big city living in Raleigh for the sake of low-budget living in Wendell is the frequency with which I run into people I know on a quick run to the grocery store. In fact, I can scarcely think of such a trip without running into at least one person I know. Couple that with my after work unwinding ritual involving a single cold beer, well, that’s a potential combination for “witness” combustion.

In fact, one of the big no-nos in the religion of the South is buying alcohol, especially in a place where you can be seen buying alcohol. Which reminds me of a joke: What’s the difference between a Baptist and a Presbyterian? A Presbyterian will say hey to you in the liquor store.

Joking aside, there is a serious reality underlying the brown-bagging / teetotaling disposition toward Christian practice in the religion of the South, and it all falls under the umbrella of “Preserving One’s Witness.” Scarcely have many bothered to define what this “witness” is, though it’s preservation could mean the salvation (or not) of one’s very soul.

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