Here Am I, Lord: The Call and Commission in Today’s World

A collaboration between Lewis McLain & AI



I. Introduction: The Prophet Who Heard the Voice

Among the great figures of the Old Testament, Isaiah stands tall as one of the most profound and poetic prophets ever called by God. Living and writing in the eighth century before Christ, during the reigns of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah—four kings of Judah—Isaiah witnessed both the spiritual decline of his nation and the political upheavals that threatened its very survival. His name, Yeshayahu, means “The Lord is salvation,” and indeed, his entire message weaves together judgment and redemption, despair and hope, sin and grace.

Isaiah’s writings form one of the most theologically rich books in all of Scripture—sixty-six chapters that stretch from visions of God’s holiness to prophecies of the coming Messiah. Scholars have called Isaiah “the fifth gospel” because it so vividly anticipates the life, suffering, and triumph of Christ centuries before His birth. Unlike many prophets who simply declared oracles of doom, Isaiah combined poetic beauty, moral clarity, and divine vision. He saw beyond the immediate history of Israel to the sweeping purposes of God for all nations.

What sets Isaiah apart is not only the grandeur of his language but the intimacy of his calling. His ministry begins not with action but with awe—with a vision that breaks and remakes him. In the year that King Uzziah died, Isaiah saw “the Lord, high and lifted up, and His train filled the temple.” He hears angelic voices crying, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of His glory.” Overwhelmed by divine holiness, Isaiah cries out, “Woe is me, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell among a people of unclean lips.” Then, in a moment of grace, a seraph touches his lips with a live coal from the altar, saying, “Your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for.” Only then does Isaiah hear the divine question: “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” His response—simple, immediate, and wholehearted—has echoed through millennia: “Here am I; send me.”

II. The Original Moment: From Vision to Vocation

Isaiah’s encounter in the temple is one of the most profound calling narratives in Scripture because it reveals the entire arc of spiritual transformation—conviction, cleansing, and commission. Before Isaiah can speak for God, he must be purified by God. The coal that touches his lips symbolizes both pain and purification; it burns away unworthiness and ignites a new fire of purpose. Isaiah learns that divine service is not earned by merit but granted through mercy.

This moment defines prophetic ministry for all who follow. Isaiah does not volunteer because he feels capable; he volunteers because he has been forgiven. His “send me” is not a boast of strength but a surrender of will. It shows that readiness in God’s kingdom comes not from talent or position but from humility and obedience. The prophet’s call reminds every believer that God does not ask for perfection, only availability. He does not seek the qualified; He qualifies the willing.

III. The Voice That Still Calls: Modern Applications of “Send Me”

Though centuries separate us from Isaiah’s temple vision, the same question still echoes: “Whom shall I send?” The call of God is not a relic of ancient prophecy—it is a living summons to every generation. In every time and place, men and women hear this question in the quiet chambers of conscience and the crowded corridors of daily life. The divine call may not come through visions of angels, but it comes through needs that cry out to be met, through injustices that demand courage, through moments of compassion that ask for response.

A. The Personal Call: Faith in the Ordinary
In a world that prizes self-assertion, Isaiah’s answer is radical: availability over ability. “Here am I” means being present before God—before the noise of ambition or distraction drowns out His voice. For the modern believer, this call begins in small, faithful acts: showing kindness when it’s inconvenient, forgiving when it’s undeserved, speaking truth when it’s unpopular. It may mean teaching a Sunday school class, visiting the sick, mentoring a child, or simply standing up for integrity in one’s profession.
The modern application of Isaiah’s “send me” is less about geography and more about posture. You may never cross an ocean, but you can cross the street. You may not go into a pulpit, but you can live the Gospel at your desk, in your classroom, or around your dinner table. In every generation, God asks not “Who is talented?” but “Who is willing?”



B. The Public Call: Faith in the Civic and Professional Realm
Isaiah was not just a preacher in the temple; he was an adviser to kings and a voice in national affairs. His message reached palaces and public squares alike. Likewise, today’s disciples are called to bring righteousness into their professions—to be prophetic voices in civic life. Whether one serves in government, finance, education, or healthcare, the “send me” spirit calls for moral clarity amid compromise.
In municipal councils, corporate meetings, or courtrooms, there is still a need for those who say, “Here am I” not to their own advancement but to the cause of truth and justice. The Isaiah spirit is the courage to stand for what is right even when it costs reputation or comfort—to call nations back to integrity, to defend the vulnerable, to remind leaders that power must serve people. In every public servant who leads with humility, in every teacher who shapes conscience, in every judge who loves mercy, the voice of Isaiah lives on.

C. The Global Call: Faith Beyond Borders
Isaiah’s vision of God’s glory filling the whole earth anticipates the Great Commission of Christ. “Send me” is a global phrase—it transcends race, nation, and time. In our interconnected world, the mission field is both next door and around the globe. It includes the refugee, the orphan, the imprisoned, the forgotten. To say “send me” today is to accept the responsibility of love in a wounded world.
It might mean serving on a mission trip, supporting a humanitarian cause, or developing technology that uplifts rather than exploits. It can mean using one’s influence, wealth, or voice for those who have none. The modern missionary is not only the preacher or doctor abroad, but also the scientist working for sustainable solutions, the artist telling redemptive stories, and the citizen advocating for peace and dignity.



IV. The Obstacles to Saying “Send Me”

Many never reach Isaiah’s moment of surrender because they stop at his first confession: “Woe is me.” Fear, inadequacy, and distraction paralyze potential prophets. The world today offers endless reasons to delay obedience—busyness, cynicism, self-doubt, or the illusion that someone else will go. The modern heart is often over-informed but under-committed.

Yet the secret of Isaiah’s response lies in trust. He did not know where he would be sent, what he would face, or whether he would succeed. God revealed only the call, not the destination. And still he said yes. The modern disciple must learn this same holy courage—the faith to say “yes” before knowing the cost. Real obedience precedes full understanding.

We also face cultural barriers. The age of irony mocks conviction; the age of comfort avoids sacrifice. But God still calls amid the noise. Every generation must rediscover the sacred simplicity of Isaiah’s answer: to stand up when called, to speak when it’s easier to stay silent, to go when it’s safer to stay home.



V. The Transformation of the Willing Heart

The power of Isaiah’s response lies in transformation. He entered the temple burdened by guilt and left commissioned by grace. The same God who cleansed his lips also shaped his life. Service becomes the fruit of forgiveness. Every believer who says “send me” enters this same pattern: encounter, cleansing, and calling.

Modern discipleship is not a part-time endeavor but a lifelong response. When we offer ourselves to God’s purposes, He transforms both us and the world around us. A single “send me” can ripple through generations. One teacher who sees their classroom as a mission field, one civic leader who governs with justice, one artist who creates with reverence—each becomes a vessel through which God’s light reaches others.

In this way, Isaiah’s call is not a moment but a movement. It is the continual surrender of the heart that says, “Use me, Lord, wherever You will.”

VI. Conclusion: The Call Continues

Isaiah’s cry, “Here am I, Lord; send me,” remains one of the purest expressions of faith in all of Scripture. It is both an answer and a challenge. Across the centuries, prophets, apostles, and saints have echoed it in their own tongues—Moses before Pharaoh, Mary before the angel, Peter beside the sea, Paul on the Damascus road. And still the question comes: “Whom shall I send?”

Every believer must decide whether to remain a spectator in the temple or to become a servant in the field. The call may come through Scripture, through conscience, or through the cry of human need. The answer must come from the heart: “Here am I.” In those three words lies the essence of Christian discipleship—the surrender of self to the will of God.

In a fractured world that hungers for hope, the echo of Isaiah’s voice is needed more than ever. The Lord still seeks those who will go—into classrooms, hospitals, city halls, neighborhoods, and nations—to live out His message of redemption. To every willing soul, He still asks the ancient question. And to every heart brave enough to respond, He still gives divine purpose.

“Here am I, Lord; send me.” May it not be only Isaiah’s prayer—but ours.



Reflective Prayer: “Here Am I, Lord”

O Lord, high and lifted up,
whose glory fills the earth and whose mercy touches even the most unworthy lips,
we come before You with humbled hearts.

We have heard Your question echo through the ages —
“Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?”
And though the world grows noisy with fear and distraction,
still Your voice breaks through.

Touch our lips as You touched Isaiah’s,
burn away our pride, our hesitation, our excuses.
Cleanse what is unclean,
renew what is weary,
and make our hearts burn again with holy purpose.

When the needs of the world seem too vast, remind us:
You do not ask us to save the world, only to serve in it.
You do not need our strength, only our surrender.
You do not require our perfection, only our presence.

So here we stand, O Lord —
in our cities, our classrooms, our homes, our workplaces.
Here we are, with our small voices and open hands.
Send us where love is lacking.
Send us where truth is silenced.
Send us where hope has grown dim.

And when we go, go with us —
that every act may carry the mark of Your grace,
and every word may bear the weight of Your holiness.

We pray this not in our own name,
but in the name of Jesus Christ,
the One who was sent and who sends us still.

Amen.


Searching for God’s Plan Is Part of God’s Plan

🕯️ A collaboration between Lewis McLain & AI


🕯️ Searching for God’s Plan Is Part of God’s Plan

A meditation on divine purpose, patience, and the gentle guidance of the Holy Spirit


Introduction — The God Who Is Three in One

When we speak of God’s plan, we must first understand who God is.
All of Scripture — and every whisper of divine purpose — flows from the mystery of the Holy Trinity, the eternal truth that God is One in essence and Three in person: God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.

From the first pages of the Bible, God reveals Himself not as solitary but as relational. In Genesis 1:26, the Creator declares, “Let Us make mankind in Our image, in Our likeness.” This “Us” is not the language of royalty but of communion — a glimpse into the fellowship that has always existed within the Godhead.

God the Father is the Creator and Sustainer of all things, the One who spoke light into being and still speaks purpose into creation. He is the source from which all love, justice, and wisdom flow.

God the Son, Jesus Christ, is the Word made flesh — “the image of the invisible God” (Colossians 1:15). Fully divine and fully human, He entered time so that eternity could enter us. Through His life, death, and resurrection, He revealed the Father’s heart and opened the way for humanity to live in communion with God once more.

God the Holy Spirit is the living presence of God with us — the Comforter Jesus promised in John 14:26, the One who guides, convicts, empowers, and renews. The Spirit does not simply move around us but dwells within us, breathing life where there was none and transforming belief into becoming.

Together, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are one God — distinct in person, united in essence, perfect in love. The Father wills, the Son reveals, the Spirit indwells. This divine harmony is not a concept to be solved but a communion to be entered — the eternal dance of love that invites us to join.

To seek God’s plan, then, is to be drawn into the life of the Holy Trinity itself — to hear the Father’s call, to follow the Son’s example, and to walk in the Spirit’s guidance. Every act of faith, every search for purpose, begins and ends within that holy fellowship of love.


🌅 I. The Longing to Know

Every soul, at some quiet moment, comes to the edge of its own mystery and whispers,
Why am I here?
What am I meant to do?
How will I know when I’ve found it?

These are not small questions, nor are they unspiritual ones. They are the pulse of eternity within human clay — the proof that we were made by a purposeful God who designed us to long for Him. As the writer of Ecclesiastes says, “He has set eternity in the human heart.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). That longing, that inward ache for meaning, is not a flaw in the system — it is the invitation itself.

Before we ever lift our eyes toward heaven, the Holy Spirit has already stirred the waters of our hearts. It is He who awakens the desire to seek, to question, to yearn for direction. We imagine that we begin the search, but in truth, we are responding to One who has already begun calling our name. “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you,” says the Lord (Jeremiah 1:5). The search is not the beginning of God’s plan — it is the awakening to it.

We live in a world that tells us to chase identity through productivity — to define purpose by what we do. Yet the Spirit teaches us to begin with who we are: beloved, chosen, formed for good works prepared in advance (Ephesians 2:10). When we start from belovedness, direction becomes less about achievement and more about alignment. The question shifts from “What is my plan for my life?” to “What is God’s life doing through me?”

There are times the longing feels like a burden — like a hunger that won’t be filled. But that hunger is holy. It is the echo of Eden within us, the part of the soul that still remembers walking with God in the cool of the day. Every time we ask “Why am I here?” we are really asking, “Lord, where are You?” And the Spirit answers softly in the dark: “Closer than you think.”

The longing to know is not a sign that we are lost; it is proof that we are loved. God hides His purposes not to frustrate us but to form us. Like a sunrise that slowly brightens the horizon, His plan is not a flash of lightning but a gentle unveiling. And as we watch for the light, we come to see — the search itself is sacred. The seeking heart is already standing within the circle of His will.


🌾 II. The Restless Heart

“As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for You, my God.”Psalm 42 : 1
“It is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill His good purpose.”Philippians 2 : 13

There is a restlessness that runs through the human spirit — a holy discomfort that keeps us from settling for less than what God intended. We call it anxiety, ambition, or uncertainty, but beneath those names lies a deeper truth: the soul was not designed for stagnation. The Spirit keeps us moving because life in Christ is a pilgrimage, not permanence.

The restlessness of the heart is a divine stirring. It is what moved Abraham to leave Ur without a map, Moses to wander through desert silence, and Paul to cross seas with only the Spirit’s whisper, “Go.” None of them saw the full plan, but each trusted that the One who called would lead.

When the Holy Spirit “woos” the soul, He does not always comfort first; sometimes He unsettles. He loosens our grip on comfort so that we might reach for calling. The Spirit’s invitation is often disguised as discomfort — not to harm us, but to stretch us toward holiness.

We often mistake that tension as something to escape. But restlessness can be sacred ground if we let it drive us to prayer instead of panic. The heart that refuses to grow numb, that dares to ask “Is there more?” is already being moved by the Breath of God.

If you feel restless today, take courage. The ache itself is evidence that the Spirit is alive within you — awakening desire, stirring purpose, leading you toward something truer than you can yet name.


🌊 III. The Hidden Path

“Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.”Psalm 119 : 105
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”Proverbs 3 : 5–6

We wish God would hand us the map. Instead, He gives us a lamp.

Faith does not come with a blueprint; it comes with a Person. The Holy Spirit does not reveal the entire road — He reveals the next step. That is why the lamp is at our feet, not miles ahead. If God showed us everything at once, we would no longer need faith; we would manage life by sight.

The hidden path is the training ground of trust. We take one obedient step, and the next is revealed. Guidance in Scripture always comes to those who are already moving: Abraham stepping out, Peter stepping onto the water, Paul stepping toward Macedonia. Divine direction is discovered in motion.

Discernment grows in stillness and obedience. God speaks through His Word, through the peace that follows prayer, through the wise voices He plants around us. The Holy Spirit confirms through alignment — when Scripture, conscience, and peace all point in the same direction.

We are not asked to see far, only to walk faithfully where the light falls. The Spirit’s guidance often turns like a lighthouse beam — rhythmic, partial, but consistent. The light always returns.


IV. The Stillness of Trust

“Be still, and know that I am God.”Psalm 46 : 10
“Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay.”Habakkuk 2 : 3

The hardest obedience is not movement — it is stillness.
We can act, plan, or work; but to be still and trust feels like doing nothing. Yet Scripture reveals that stillness is not inactivity; it is surrender.

Stillness says, “God, You do not need my panic to accomplish Your promise.”
It is a holy resting of the soul, a decision to stop wrestling for control.

When Elijah fled to the cave, God was not in the wind, earthquake, or fire, but in the gentle whisper (1 Kings 19:12). Jesus, too, embodied that peace — sleeping through a storm that terrified seasoned fishermen. Both moments show the same truth: the presence of chaos does not mean the absence of God.

In a world that rewards busyness and noise, stillness is an act of rebellion. It is spiritual warfare against hurry, fear, and self-sufficiency. To be still is to declare that God’s timing is trustworthy, His sovereignty complete.

Waiting is not wasted time. It is the slow shaping of faith into maturity. What we think is delay is often design. And while we wait, the Holy Spirit breathes courage into our quiet — a courage that does not demand proof, only Presence.


🌤 V. The Mystery of Hindsight

“You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”John 13 : 7
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him.”Romans 8 : 28

God’s handwriting is easiest to read backwards.

Joseph understood his suffering only after the famine was over. Ruth saw redemption only after returning from Moab. Peter grasped the grace of denial only after resurrection morning. Each could have cried in the middle, “What possible good could come of this?” — yet each found that God had been writing something beautiful in invisible ink.

The Spirit is the Interpreter of the Past. He helps us re-read our pain through the lens of providence. What once looked like abandonment becomes preparation. What once felt like punishment becomes protection.

When hindsight meets humility, gratitude is born. We begin to thank God not only for what He gave but for what He withheld. The fog clears, and we realize that every step, even the missteps, were guided by mercy.

In time, revelation becomes remembrance — and remembrance becomes worship.


🕯️ VI. Living Inside the Plan

“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”Micah 6 : 8
“You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart.”Jeremiah 29 : 13

To live inside God’s plan is not to solve a puzzle; it is to live in relationship.
We seek His will not as detectives chasing clues but as children trusting a Father.

The will of God is not a distant treasure buried under mystery; it is the life of Christ formed in us through faith. Every decision, every act of love, every moment of humility becomes the shaping of divine purpose.

When we walk in love, we are already in the center of His will. When we forgive, serve, give, and trust — we are fulfilling His design more than we realize.

Faith is not a destination but a direction. The Spirit leads not by shouting orders but by indwelling presence. To live “in the plan” is to live with the Planner — daily, presently, obediently.

We spend so much time asking, “Am I in God’s will?”
Perhaps heaven’s better question is, “Am I walking with God?”

The seeker who walks with God is never off the map.


🕊️ VII. The Seeker’s Prayer

Lord of the journey,
You who shape the tides and light the stars,
teach me to trust the mystery of Your plan.
When I cannot see the shoreline,
let me rest in the rhythm of Your waves.

When my heart cries, “Why am I here?”
whisper back, “You are Mine.”
When I ask, “What should I do?”
remind me to keep the lamp trimmed,
to walk one faithful step at a time.

Holy Spirit, gentle Companion,
thank You for stirring my questions
and for meeting me inside them.
Let Your whisper rise above the wind,
Your peace outshine my fear.

I do not ask for the full map —
only the courage to follow the next light.
For even my searching belongs to You.
Every longing, every delay, every unanswered prayer
is already written in Your design.

Keep me seeking.
Keep me trusting.
And when the dawn finally breaks,
may I find that the path I wandered
was the one You planned all along.

Amen.


🌅 VIII. Epilogue — The Morning of Understanding

The first light slips across the sea. The storm has passed. Whether one stands on a balcony or kneels beside a bed, there comes a moment when striving ceases and trust begins.

The questions that once pressed hard against the heart grow quiet.
We do not have every answer—only peace. The waiting, the wondering, the wandering — all reveal themselves as the Spirit’s slow choreography toward surrender.

Below us, life continues — tides rise and fall, plans shift and change. Yet above all, God remains steady. His plan, mysterious and merciful, unfolds with perfect rhythm.

In that awareness the soul finds rest.
The search, it turns out, was never about discovering a destination but discovering Him.

The Spirit still whispers over the waters:
Be still and know that I am God.

And the heart that listens understands at last —
to search for God’s plan was always to walk within it.
The light was never lost;
it was leading all along.

Beacons at the Edge of the World: The Timeless Allure of Lighthouses

A collaboration between Lewis McLain & AI

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” *
John 1:5



LFM note: Paintings throughout do not necessarily align with lighthouses mentioned.

There is something profoundly stirring about a lighthouse. Rising solitary and steadfast at the edge of land and sea, it holds a mystique that transcends mere utility. For centuries, lighthouses have been both practical guardians of mariners’ lives and profound symbols of guidance, hope, and endurance. Their beauty lies not only in their structure but in the stories they whisper—of storms endured, ships saved, and the eternal human longing for light amid darkness.


The Architecture of Solitude


Lighthouses are born of necessity but shaped by poetry. They rise where no one would choose to live—on cliffs battered by spray, on reefs that vanish at high tide, on islands that taste of salt and wind.

The Cape Hatteras Lighthouse in North Carolina embodies that defiant grandeur. First built in 1803, rebuilt in 1870, and then—astonishingly—moved brick by brick in 1999 to escape the encroaching sea, it stands as both sentinel and survivor. Its black-and-white spiral stripes, gleaming above the dunes, seem to twist with time itself—a monument to human determination that the light must move, but it must never go out.

To gaze upon such a tower is to feel the romance of solitude—a reminder that even in the loneliest places, there can be purpose and dignity.


Light as Metaphor


Lighthouses are sermons in stone. They preach endurance without words, steadfastness without sound. Each lens, each turning prism of light, speaks the same message: I am here.

The ancients understood this. The Pharos of Alexandria, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, guided ships safely into Egypt’s harbor for nearly fifteen centuries before earthquakes brought it down. Yet its radiance lingers in language itself: pharos became the root for “lighthouse” in many tongues—a word that still glows with memory.

To tend the light, whether with oil lamp, Fresnel lens **, or electric beam, is to participate in the sacred act of pushing back the night.


Stories of Endurance

Behind every light stands a keeper—a human being who lived within its echoing walls, marking time not by clocks but by tides and storms.


Ida Lewis of Newport, Rhode Island, began her duties as a teenager at Lime Rock Light. Time and again she rowed through fog and fury to rescue those doomed by the sea. Newspapers hailed her as “America’s Bravest Woman,” and her lantern became a symbol of courage that outshone any medal.


Across the Atlantic, Grace Darling of the Farne Islands rowed with her father through hurricane winds in 1838 to save nine shipwrecked souls. Her quiet valor inspired poems, ballads, and generations of young women who learned that heroism can live in gentleness.

And far to the northwest, the keepers of Tillamook Rock Lighthouse—grimly nicknamed Terrible Tilly—faced isolation so absolute that supplies sometimes came only once a month. Waves shattered windows; lightning scorched its dome; yet through it all, the light endured until automation silenced it in 1957.

Each of these stories shines like the lanterns they kept: fragile, human, and eternal.


The Modern Fascination

Today, satellites trace invisible paths across the sky, but no digital signal can move the heart like a beam of light piercing the fog.


Tourists flock to Portland Head Light in Maine to feel its wind-whipped poetry, to Pigeon Point Light in California to watch the Pacific shimmer beneath its glass crown, or to Split Rock Lighthouse above Lake Superior, where the inland sea itself seems to bow in respect. Photographers chase those fleeting dawns when light, water, and memory merge into a single luminous chord.

Even in obsolescence, lighthouses command reverence. They remind us that guidance once required vigilance, and that safety once depended on someone staying awake.

The great Fresnel lens, invented in 1822, still feels miraculous—turning a single flame into an empire of light. Each concentric glass ring multiplied hope itself. **



A Symbol for the Soul

A lighthouse is a monument to faith—faith that light matters, faith that someone is out there searching for it. Its flame burns not for itself but for others.

We are, each of us, lighthouses in miniature—built to stand through storm, to offer direction, to keep a humble watch. We may never know the sailors who find safe harbor by our light, yet still we shine.



A Closing Hymn to the Lighthouse

On the edge of the world where the dark waves roar,
A tower stands, steady forevermore.
Its flame is a prayer in the midnight deep,
A vow it has sworn: the watch I will keep.

Through centuries long and tempests untold,
Through winds that howl and waters cold,
It whispers to sailors who wander the foam:
“Fear not the storm—you are guided home.”

So may we, like lighthouses, shine through the night,
Steadfast in truth, unwavering in light.
For though seas may rage and horizons bend,
The beacon endures till journey’s end.


Lessons from the Lightkeeper

  1. Constancy: Keep your post even when unseen.
  2. Selflessness: Shine for others, not for glory.
  3. Endurance: Weather the storm, not because it is easy, but because it is right.


Keeper’s Log — November 12, 1898

(Written as a diary and love letter to the lighthouse)

My dearest Light,

The storm has come again. I can feel it before it arrives—the air thickens, the sea grows restless, and the lantern glass begins to quiver with a faint, trembling song. Now, as the wind batters the shutters and the surf claws at the rocks below, it is only you and I awake in this furious night.

You creak like an old soul when the wind strikes you just right—your timbers groan, your spiral stairs hum, and somewhere deep within your heart a low moan rises, as if you too feel the strain of standing against such wrath. But you do not bend, my steadfast one. You never do.

The rain lashes your windows like handfuls of nails, and yet your light keeps turning—faithful, calm, and sure. I’ve trimmed the wick twice already; the flame dances bravely in its glass crown. I swear it beats like a living pulse, and I feel it inside me, keeping time with my own heart.

I have known the company of many storms, but never one that felt like this—a symphony of roar and whisper, fury and devotion. The iron railing shudders under my hand, the stones breathe cold through my boots, and still, your light cuts through the blackness as if to say, “Here. I am still here.”

When I first came to tend you, I thought of you as duty—stone and oil and obligation. But tonight I know better. You are more than beacon; you are beloved. You hold me in your constant gaze as surely as I keep you alive with mine. The sea may rage, the thunder may roll, but within your circle of light, there is a holiness I cannot name.

If ever I am taken by these waves, let them find me reaching toward you, my tower of grace. For even when the world goes dark, you will shine—and we will always be one.

Your friend and partner,
— The Keeper


* Context of John 1:5 — This verse belongs to the prologue of the Gospel of John (1:1–18), where Christ is introduced as the eternal Word (Logos) of God —the divine source of life and light. “Light” in this passage refers to the revelation and holiness of God made visible in Jesus Himself; “darkness” signifies sin and separation from God. The verse affirms that the divine light of Christ entered a fallen world and that no power of evil or unbelief can extinguish or comprehend it. Using this verse symbolically in reference to a lighthouse honors its meaning only when the metaphor points back to Christ as the true and eternal Light of the world.

** The Fresnel Lens — Invented in 1822 by the French physicist Augustin-Jean Fresnel, this revolutionary lens transformed lighthouse illumination worldwide. Unlike a single thick piece of glass, the Fresnel lens used concentric rings of prismatic glass, each bent at a precise angle to capture and refract more light with less material. It could project a single flame’s glow over twenty miles of sea. Fresnel’s design was so efficient that mariners called it “the invention that saved a million ships.” Many keepers described its operation as almost sacred: tending the lamp within the great glass cathedral of prisms felt like standing in a temple of light.

One famous story comes from the first keeper at Cordouan Lighthouse (France), who said that when the new lens was lit, the entire tower “breathed differently” — the light shimmered across the ocean like a living thing. Modern restorers still marvel at the craftsmanship: thousands of individual glass segments, hand-ground and set with the precision of jewelry, revolving silently on mercury bearings so the beam never faltered. Even today, Fresnel lenses remain one of the most brilliant and elegant intersections of science, art, and devotion ever created.


Imaginary Job Position (hey, just for fun!): Lighthouse Keeper

Location: Edge of the world.
Hours: Continuous. The light never sleeps.

Summary:

Seeking a person of steady hand and quiet heart to tend a solitary light where sea meets sky. Must be able to endure long silences, fierce storms, and the company of one’s own thoughts. The successful applicant will be entrusted with the guardianship of the light — a flame that keeps ships from ruin and men from despair.


Responsibilities:

  • Maintain the Beacon:
    Trim wicks, polish lenses, refill oil, wind clockwork, and ensure the light never fails — not for wind, nor wave, nor weariness.
  • Keep the Watch:
    Record weather, tides, and passing vessels. Note the comings and goings of fog and gull, the changing moods of sea and sky.
  • Stand Against the Storm:
    Remain calm when the tower trembles. Maintain vigilance even when thunder deafens and waves strike the glass.
  • Preserve the Silence:
    Live with dignity and patience amid isolation. Understand that some prayers are spoken with oil and flame rather than words.

Required Qualifications:

  • Courage enough to stay when others would flee.
  • Eyes that can read darkness as well as dawn.
  • Hands steady enough to mend a lens and gentle enough to save a life.
  • A heart attuned to rhythm of tides — faithful, unhurried, enduring.

Preferred Experience:

  • Previous familiarity with solitude, reflection, or faith.
  • Ability to distinguish between loneliness and peace.
  • Experience keeping journals or writing letters never sent.

Compensation:

  • Sunrises and sunsets without equal.
  • The sound of the wind as hymn and companion.
  • The knowledge that unseen lives are safer because of your light.

Closing Note:

This is not merely a job, but a calling. The keeper’s light is both duty and devotion — a sermon without words, a prayer that burns through the storm. Those who apply must be willing to give the sea their years, and in return, receive the quiet immortality of those who guard the light.

The Fragile Balance: The Supreme Court, the Presidency, and the Deep Machinery of Power


A collaboration between Lewis McLain & AI

Introduction: The Return of the Old Question

Every generation of Americans must rediscover a truth the founders assumed self-evident: power left unchecked eventually seeks to rule. The United States Constitution was built upon friction—the deliberate tension among the legislative, executive, and judicial branches—because the framers knew that virtue without restraint would decay into tyranny.

In 2025, that fragile balance is once again being tested. The Supreme Court’s recent term has thrust the nation into a constitutional reckoning over the limits of presidential authority, the independence of federal agencies, and the reach of a bureaucracy so vast that it has become a government unto itself (The Deep State). Beneath the headlines of court cases and executive orders lies an older struggle: who governs America—the people, their elected president, or the permanent state that outlasts them both?


I. The Pendulum of Power: From George Washington to Donald Trump

American history is a chronicle of oscillating authority. George Washington set the precedent of restraint, rejecting monarchy and leaving office after two terms. Andrew Jackson defied the Supreme Court, daring Chief Justice John Marshall to enforce his rulings. Abraham Lincoln suspended habeas corpus in wartime, later admitting he had stretched the Constitution “as far as I dared.”

Franklin Roosevelt, frustrated by a conservative Court blocking his New Deal, proposed expanding its membership—an audacious plan that failed politically but succeeded psychologically: the Court soon bent toward broader federal power. Nixon’s abuse of executive privilege provoked the congressional and judicial pushback of the 1970s, creating the Independent Counsel Act and sunshine laws.

Then came the Reagan-Bush revival of the unitary executive theory, seeking to reclaim presidential control over a bureaucracy that had become increasingly independent since the 1930s. By the time Donald Trump entered office, this constitutional pendulum had already swung through centuries of tension between energetic leadership and institutional resistance. Trump’s presidency merely accelerated the rhythm—reviving the oldest American argument of all: Can one man truly govern the government?


II. The New Flashpoint: Trump v. Slaughter and the Unitary Executive

At the center of today’s storm is Trump v. Slaughter, a case challenging whether the President may remove a Federal Trade Commission commissioner “without cause.” The stakes are profound. For ninety years, Humphrey’s Executor v. United States (1935) has protected independent agencies like the FTC, SEC, and Federal Reserve from direct political interference. Commissioners could be dismissed only for misconduct or neglect, ensuring a measure of stability across changing administrations.

The Trump administration contends that such protections violate Article II’s command that “the executive Power shall be vested in a President.” Their argument—the unitary executive theory—holds that all officers who exercise executive functions must answer to the President alone. Anything less fragments accountability and undermines electoral legitimacy.

Critics respond that independence is the only safeguard against politicized enforcement, crony capitalism, and authoritarian control. The Supreme Court’s eventual ruling will determine whether the alphabet soup of federal agencies remains semi-autonomous or becomes an extension of the Oval Office. Either outcome will redefine the machinery of governance for decades.
(Holland & Knight, Sept 2025)


III. The Deep State and the Administrative Leviathan

Beneath this legal argument lies a deeper cultural suspicion—that a Deep State of career officials, regulators, and policy staff wields power beyond democratic reach. The term is controversial, often misused, but it points to a real structural dilemma.

Since the Progressive Era, Congress has delegated vast lawmaking authority to expert agencies. Today, more than 430 departments and commissions issue rules, adjudicate disputes, and spend trillions—often with minimal congressional oversight. Presidents come and go; the civil service endures. Policies shift at the margins, but the bureaucracy’s gravitational pull tends toward self-preservation.

To many Americans, that permanence feels like insulation from accountability. They see unelected administrators shaping environmental, labor, financial, and education policy with little input from voters. To others, this continuity is what keeps the system functioning—a professional corps that tempers political extremes and maintains order.

The Supreme Court’s willingness to let presidents reassert control over this structure represents both a correction and a risk. Reining in an unresponsive bureaucracy may restore responsiveness—or, if unchecked, it could replace quiet inertia with politicized command. The choice is between two dangers: the tyranny of permanence or the tyranny of immediacy.


III-A. The Necessary Reckoning with Waste, Fraud, and Abuse

For all the rhetoric, there is truth behind the charge that Washington’s bureaucracy has grown beyond effective oversight. Auditors and inspectors general routinely document programs that continue long after their purpose has vanished—subsidies whose beneficiaries no longer exist, grant streams that duplicate one another, and contracts written to sustain offices rather than results.

Calling that “Deep State” may sound inflammatory, but confronting it is an act of stewardship, not sabotage. Every dollar misspent in procedural self-defense is a dollar not serving the public good. The search for waste, fraud, and abuse is therefore not a crusade against government itself but a demand for integrity within it.

Reform, however, must distinguish between pruning and burning. Some functions deserve close study before reduction—scientific research, national security intelligence, and infrastructure oversight, for example, where expertise matters. Others, such as overlapping compliance offices, outdated subsidy programs, or redundant regional authorities, can be consolidated or sunset with minimal harm.

What the system most lacks is a decision maker. Endless committees defer, delay, and dilute. Real accountability requires someone willing to decide and accept responsibility for the outcome. Whether one admires or dislikes Donald Trump, it is undeniable that his governing style re-centered attention on presidential decisiveness—the notion that leadership means choosing, not perpetually consulting. That instinct, properly harnessed within constitutional limits, is not authoritarian; it is executive in the truest sense of the word. A republic cannot function indefinitely on autopilot.


IV. The Shadow Docket: Power by Emergency

Compounding the uncertainty is the Supreme Court’s increased use of its “shadow docket”—emergency orders issued without full briefing or oral argument. Once rare, such rulings have become routine. This summer, the Court quietly allowed the administration’s sweeping agency reorganization plan to proceed, overturning lower-court injunctions issued to protect employees and contractors.
(JURIST, July 2025)

Justice Elena Kagan once warned that “we are deciding the law for the country on the basis of hasty midnight filings.” Her dissent now reads as prophecy. The emergency docket was meant for imminent harm—war, executions, public health crises. It has become a backdoor policy tool, shaping immigration, environmental, and administrative law without written justification. If presidential terms were like those of Congress, unlimited, perhaps the urgency to implement executive change and improvements would be different.

Supporters defend it as necessary speed in a paralyzed age. Critics see it as the quiet erosion of due process. Either way, the Court’s silence has become a new form of speech.


V. Other Cases, Same Question

Beyond Slaughter, the pattern repeats. In Trump v. CASA, the administration seeks to limit “universal injunctions”—nationwide orders from single district judges blocking federal policy. Such injunctions, once rare, multiplied during the pandemic and immigration battles. Restricting them would expand executive momentum but shrink judicial brakes.
(CBS News, Oct 2025)

Meanwhile, the Court recently allowed the government to strip Temporary Protected Status from more than 300,000 Venezuelan migrants.
(AP News, Oct 2025)
And it appears ready to overturn Colorado’s ban on “conversion therapy” for minors, citing free-speech concerns—another signal that the current majority favors constitutional literalism over regulatory paternalism.
(The Guardian, Oct 2025)

Each case shares the same undercurrent: whether authority lies with elected officials, appointed experts, or unelected judges.


VI. The Philosophies Behind the Bench

Understanding the conflict requires examining the competing philosophies that guide the Court itself.

  • The Unitary Executive View—championed by Justices Thomas and Alito—reads Article II as granting the President direct control over all executive functions. It promises clarity and democratic accountability: voters can blame or reward one person.
  • The Separation-with-Independence View—favored by Justices Kagan, Sotomayor, and Jackson—warns that unfiltered power breeds abuse; some insulation is essential to rule-of-law governance.
  • The Pragmatic Center—Chief Justice Roberts and Justice Barrett often balance between them, seeking institutional legitimacy above ideology.

This mixture means outcomes hinge not just on constitutional text but on trust—trust that one branch will not devour the others.


VII. The Bureaucracy’s Defense: Expertise and Continuity

Defenders of the administrative state remind critics that modern society is too complex for Congress to micromanage. Food safety, nuclear regulation, cybersecurity—these require technical competence. The civil service system was born from the Pendleton Act of 1883 precisely to eliminate the old patronage corruption.

Yet competence easily hardens into arrogance. When experts treat elected oversight as interference, they risk confirming the populist narrative of an unaccountable elite. The challenge is not to abolish bureaucracy but to restore transparency—sunlight as disinfectant, not fire as weapon.


VIII. The Moral Logic of Restraint

The separation of powers is not a bureaucratic diagram; it is a moral philosophy rooted in realism about human nature. James Madison wrote in Federalist 51: “If men were angels, no government would be necessary.” The founders distrusted concentrated virtue as much as concentrated vice.

Restraint, not efficiency, is the soul of republican government. When Congress delegates away its authority, when presidents govern by emergency order, when courts legislate from chambers, each betrays that founding humility. The system was designed to frustrate power—because liberty grows in the space where power collides with itself. Yet one has to realize that gridlock, the resulting governance we have now, is a ridiculous way to operate.


IX. The New Trilemma: Efficiency, Independence, and Accountability

The old two-way tug between Congress and the President has become a three-way struggle that includes the permanent bureaucracy. Each now claims to represent the public good:

  • Presidents promise decisiveness.
  • Congress claims deliberation.
  • Bureaucrats insist on expertise.

But none alone can secure liberty. Efficiency without oversight becomes autocracy; oversight without execution becomes paralysis; expertise without accountability becomes technocracy. The genius of the American system, some claim, is not that it balances these perfectly, but that it never stops trying.


X. What Lies Ahead

The 2025–2026 Supreme Court term will determine whether the executive branch consolidates or diffuses. Watch for:

  • The fate of Trump v. Slaughter and whether Humphrey’s Executor survives.
  • Legislative counter-measures—perhaps a new “Agency Independence Act.”
  • Public trust in the judiciary, already polarized by perception of partisanship.
  • The bureaucratic response: quiet resistance or adaptation under new command.

Every ruling will ripple through daily life—from antitrust enforcement to social-media regulation, from labor standards to immigration policy. The question is not academic. It is existential: who governs when no one agrees who should?


XI. Conclusion: Freedom Needs Responsible Friction But Not Gridlock

The founders built a government that creaks on purpose. Its slowness is its safeguard. In an age addicted to immediacy—executive orders, viral outrage, and emergency rulings—patience itself has traditionally become a form of patriotism. But how could our founders have anticipated the U.S. in 2025?

If presidents claim unlimited control in the name of accountability, if bureaucrats entrench themselves in the name of expertise, if Congress yields its authority for the sake of convenience, and if courts extend their reach in the name of justice, the republic will not be ruled by tyranny but by something quieter and just as dangerous — expedience without principle. When every branch forgets its limits, all branches lose their legitimacy.


Sources and Further Reading

  • The Uncertain Future of the Separation of Powers, Regulatory Review (Aug 2025)
  • Supreme Court May Restructure the FTC, Holland & Knight (Sept 2025)
  • US Supreme Court Allows Trump’s Agency Reorganization, JURIST (July 2025)
  • Shadow Docket Explained, SCOTUSblog (Aug 2025)
  • Trump v. CASA and Nationwide Injunctions, CBS News (Oct 2025)

Guns, Common Sense, and the Search for Realistic Solutions


A collaboration between Lewis McLain & AI

I don’t own a gun, and I don’t want a gun. I haven’t shot a gun in over 60 years. Nevertheless, I think it is essential to discuss the topic.

America has long struggled with the question of firearms. Few issues bring together as much history, culture, law, and raw emotion as the debate over guns.

Commentators such as Charlie Kirk argued that there is a fundamental lack of common sense in the belief that guns could simply be “taken off the streets.” His point resonates with millions of Americans who view guns not only as a constitutional right but also as a deeply embedded feature of national identity.

Yet the counterpoint is equally compelling to appreciate: a nation with more civilian-owned firearms than people also suffers from disproportionately high levels of gun violence, homicide, and suicide. In fact, the United States has the 7th most gun-related deaths of any country. Texas has the 16th most gun-related deaths out of the 50 states. Any serious effort to address the problem requires facing both the legal realities and the practical constraints—without illusions, but also without fatalism.


The Constitutional and Historical Framework

At the heart of the gun debate lies the Second Amendment to the U.S. Constitution: “the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” End of story? Yes, to a large extent, except let’s explore further.

For much of American history, courts left the exact meaning of that provision vague, but in the past two decades the Supreme Court has clarified its scope. In District of Columbia v. Heller (2008), the Court recognized an individual right to possess firearms for self-defense, striking down a handgun ban in Washington, D.C.

In McDonald v. Chicago (2010), that protection was extended to state governments. More recently, in New York State Rifle & Pistol Association v. Bruen (2022), the Court held that carrying a handgun in public for self-defense is constitutionally protected.

These rulings set important boundaries: broad bans on ownership or possession of common firearms are unlikely to survive judicial scrutiny. The federal government and states may regulate, but only within limits consistent with historical tradition.

Thus, the law itself makes the idea of “taking guns off the streets” highly improbable and impossible in practice. Please re-read this sentence.


The Divergent Perspectives

The American debate over guns is not simply legal—it is cultural and moral.

On one side, gun-rights advocates stress the necessity of firearms for self-defense and as a deterrent against both crime and government overreach. They argue that firearms save lives daily, pointing to instances where citizens or concealed-carry permit holders prevent assaults or robberies.

To them, gun bans not only violate constitutional rights but also place law-abiding citizens at the mercy of criminals who will inevitably obtain weapons through illegal means. If every law-abiding citizen voluntarily gave up their guns, there would be no change for the criminals possessing or wanting to acquire a gun.

On the other side, gun-control advocates emphasize the human toll: tens of thousands of firearm-related deaths annually, including suicides, homicides, and mass shootings. They call for “common-sense” regulations such as universal background checks, restrictions on “assault weapons” and high-capacity magazines, and “red-flag” laws that allow temporary removal of guns from individuals deemed dangerous. I could buy into this notion.

They note that countries with stricter gun laws—Australia, the United Kingdom, Japan—experience far lower rates of gun violence.

In the middle lies a large group of Americans who are neither absolutists nor ideologues. They may support background checks and stronger enforcement but recoil at outright bans. Again, that is me.

For them, the phrase “common sense” is highly contested—gun owners hear it as a euphemism for confiscation, while gun-control advocates invoke it to mean pragmatic safeguards.


The NRA and the Organized Defense of Gun Rights

No discussion of America’s gun debate is complete without addressing the role of the National Rifle Association (NRA).

Founded in 1871 to promote marksmanship and firearms training, the NRA evolved into the nation’s most powerful gun-rights lobby. After the internal “Cincinnati Revolt” of 1977, its focus shifted from sporting culture to constitutional defense.

The NRA’s position rests on three principles:

  1. Individual Rights: The Second Amendment protects an individual’s right to own and carry firearms for lawful purposes, especially self-defense.
  2. Enforcement over Expansion: Existing laws should be enforced consistently rather than replaced by new restrictions that mostly burden lawful owners.
  3. Cultural Heritage and Responsibility: Firearms symbolize independence and citizenship; they carry moral responsibility but not collective guilt.

In policy terms, the NRA supports national concealed-carry reciprocity, opposes bans on so-called assault weapons or large-capacity magazines, and urges tougher penalties for criminals who use guns illegally.

It maintains that mental-health failures—not firearms—are the key drivers of mass violence, and it advocates armed school resource officers and stronger security rather than new prohibitions on ownership.

Critics fault the NRA for blocking compromise and opposing universal background checks even when public support is overwhelming. Supporters counter that such measures often become registration systems that lead toward confiscation.

Whatever one’s view, the NRA’s influence is undeniable: it helped shape the constitutional reasoning behind Heller and Bruen and continues to frame the issue not merely as legislation but as a question of American identity—whether citizens will remain armed and self-reliant or dependent and disarmed.


The Scale and Shape of Gun Violence

In 2024, about 49,000 people in the U.S. died from firearm-related causes. Roughly 56 percent were suicides, 41 percent were homicides, and the remainder were accidental or undetermined. The perspective is 146 deaths per 1,000,000 people, even though every single life is precious.

While gun ownership continues to rise, homicide rates have fluctuated by city and region—falling in some urban centers and rising in others—showing that cultural, economic, and mental-health factors matter as much as access itself.


Gang and Illegal-Immigrant Violence

While national data resist precise tabulation, analysts agree that gang-related violence contributes significantly to homicide totals in many urban areas, and cross-border or noncitizen perpetrators appear in a modest but serious number of cases.

Federal operations have intercepted unlawfully present noncitizens charged with murder or assault, and noncitizen defendants represent a measurable share of federal sentences—about 21,000 out of 61,000 cases in 2024, with roughly 89 percent identified as illegal aliens.

At the same time, broader research shows that U.S.-born individuals commit the majority of weapons offenses, and legal immigrant populations as a whole do not display a higher rate of violent crime.

This nuance should not be used to dismiss the issue; rather, it underscores that illegal involvement, gang networks, and trafficking cells demand direct attention alongside broader societal factors.

Comprehensive policy must target both mainstream and fringe drivers of gun violence: organized gangs that weaponize poverty and territory, and unlawful actors who exploit border loopholes or false identification to traffic firearms.


Practical Realities on the Ground

Beyond constitutional theory and political slogans lies a stubborn reality: there are more than 400 million civilian-owned firearms already in circulation in the United States. Yes, more than 1 for every man, woman, and child in the U.S.

No government program could realistically eliminate them.

Consider Australia’s experience. After a 1996 mass shooting in Port Arthur, the government enacted sweeping reforms and a buyback that removed about 650,000 guns.

Gun deaths fell and mass shootings became rare, but Australia had a fraction of the guns and a different constitutional framework. Attempting something similar in the U.S. would be logistically impossible and politically untenable.

Domestically, Chicago offers another example. Despite some of the strictest gun laws in the country, the city continues to face high homicide rates because illegal trafficking across state lines undermines local controls.


Illegal Guns and the Border Problem

A further complicating factor is international and cross-border trafficking.

While much attention focuses on U.S.-origin firearms flowing south into Mexico—where hundreds of thousands are recovered or traced to American dealers each year—there is also a persistent flow of illegally imported guns, parts, and unmarked “ghost-gun” components moving into the United States.

These illicit pipelines exploit customs gaps, shipping loopholes, and unregulated parts markets. Because such weapons often lack serial numbers, they evade tracing and fuel underground markets that are extremely difficult to detect or disrupt.

Any serious control strategy must therefore combine border interdiction, bilateral enforcement partnerships, and better regulation of imported components alongside domestic anti-trafficking efforts to reduce the “dark” firearm supply entering circulation.


Urban and Rural Realities

Gun violence looks different depending on where one lives.

Urban areas struggle with concentrated crime, gang conflicts, and illegal trafficking networks.

Rural areas face higher per-capita rates of suicide and accidental shootings.

A one-size-fits-all national law fails to address these contrasts; policy must be tailored to local causes, not just symptoms.


Federal vs. State Approaches

The gun debate also reflects America’s federal structure.

California and New York have enacted some of the strictest laws in the nation—limiting magazine capacity, banning certain semi-automatics, and requiring detailed permits.

After Bruen, New York restricted carrying guns in “sensitive places” such as subways and churches, though courts have struck down parts of that law.

By contrast, Texas and other southern states moved in the opposite direction, adopting permitless “constitutional carry” and focusing on armed school protection after the Uvalde tragedy.

The result is a legal patchwork: firearms cross borders easily, undermining strict states, while federal uniformity remains constitutionally constrained.

Americans in Los Angeles, Dallas, or rural Montana live under vastly different rules, each reflecting local culture and politics.


Legal Issues with Policy Proposals

Many reform ideas face constitutional hurdles.

Assault-weapon bans suffer definitional problems and repeated legal challenges.

Red-flag laws raise due-process questions.

Universal background checks face enforcement issues, especially for private sales.

Courts now require any restriction to fit within “historical tradition,” making broad new bans difficult to defend.


Paths Toward Realistic Solutions

1. Strengthen existing systems.
Fix gaps in the National Instant Criminal Background Check System (NICS) and prosecute straw purchasers who supply guns to criminals.

2. Target high-risk groups.
In cities like Baltimore, a small number of repeat offenders drive most shootings. Focused deterrence and community intervention can yield results without sweeping bans.

3. Promote culture and education.
Safe-storage campaigns, voluntary buybacks, and suicide-prevention initiatives reduce risk while respecting rights. Gun-safety training—often championed by gun owners themselves—builds responsibility.

4. Expand bipartisan ground.
Broader mental-health services, school threat-assessment teams, and public-safety research are areas where both sides increasingly agree.

5. Explore Non-Governmental Innovation.
Smart-gun technologies, biometric trigger locks, and insurance incentives for safe storage could reduce accidental deaths. Partnerships between police departments, community centers, and gun clubs promote safety education outside the political spotlight.


Philosophical Reflection

Common sense, in the end, is not about choosing one extreme or another—it is about the willingness to live with liberty’s risks and responsibilities at once.

Freedom always carries danger, but maturity lies in managing that danger without surrendering either courage or conscience.


Conclusion

Charlie Kirk’s observation captures a basic truth: removing guns wholesale from American life ignores both law and reality.

But it is equally lacking in common sense to pretend that the status quo is acceptable.

The United States cannot wish away its constitutional protections, nor can it ignore daily tragedies.

Real-world cases—from Australia’s buyback to Chicago’s failures, from cross-border trafficking to Texas’s school-safety reforms—show both limits and possibilities.

The challenge is not to imagine a gun-free America but to build one where rights are preserved and lives are protected through pragmatic solutions, not rhetoric.


Appendix A – Major U.S. Gun Laws and Court Rulings

• 1934 – National Firearms Act: Regulated machine guns and silencers after Prohibition-era violence.
• 1938 – Federal Firearms Act: Required dealer licenses; barred sales to felons.
• 1968 – Gun Control Act: Expanded oversight after major assassinations; added age limits and banned mail-order guns.
• 1986 – Firearm Owners’ Protection Act: Rolled back some restrictions; banned new machine-gun registrations.
• 1993 – Brady Handgun Act: Created federal background checks via NICS.
• 1994 – Federal Assault Weapons Ban: Limited semi-automatics and large magazines; expired 2004.
• 2008 – District of Columbia v. Heller: Recognized an individual right to own firearms.
• 2010 – McDonald v. Chicago: Applied Heller to states.
• 2022 – New York State Rifle & Pistol Ass’n v. Bruen: Protected public carry and established the “historical tradition” test.


Appendix B – Comparative Overview of State Firearm Policies (as of 2025)

Open Carry: Texas – permitless constitutional carry; California – prohibited; New York – restricted; Florida – allowed only with concealed-carry license; Illinois – prohibited.

Concealed Carry: Texas – permitless for adults 21+; California – strict “may issue”; New York – “shall issue” post-Bruen with sensitive-place limits; Florida – “shall issue”; Illinois – “shall issue” with training.

Assault-Weapon Bans: Texas – none; California – yes (expanded 2016; under challenge); New York – yes (2013 SAFE Act); Florida – none; Illinois – yes (2019).

Magazine Limits: California, New York, Illinois – 10-round maximum; Texas & Florida – none.

Background Checks: Texas & Florida – federal NICS only; California, New York, Illinois – universal for all transfers.

Red-Flag (ERPO) Laws: Texas – limited (police petition only); California, New York, Florida, Illinois – active.

Waiting Periods: California 10 days; New York 3; Florida 3; Illinois 72 hours; Texas none.

Stand-Your-Ground vs. Duty to Retreat: Texas & Florida – Stand-Your-Ground; California, New York, Illinois – duty to retreat outside the home.

State Preemption: Texas & Florida – strong state control; California & Illinois – allow local rules; New York – moderate hybrid model.

Storage and Safety Locks: Texas – voluntary, education-focused; California – required when minors present; New York – required for all firearms; Florida – encouraged through incentives; Illinois – mandated with penalties.

Overall Trends: Coastal states emphasize regulation; southern/western states prioritize rights; Illinois blends both. Litigation after Bruen continues to redefine boundaries between tradition and safety.


Appendix C – Emerging Supreme Court and Legal Issues

U.S. v. Rahimi (2024): Tests whether those under domestic-violence restraining orders can be barred from gun possession.
• Age-Based Purchase Restrictions: Ongoing challenges to bans on handgun sales to adults under 21.
• High-Capacity Magazine Laws: Appeals courts split on constitutionality; likely Supreme Court review ahead.
• Federal “Ghost Gun” Regulation: Disputes over ATF authority to classify unassembled parts as firearms.

These pending cases will define the next era of Second Amendment jurisprudence.


Appendix D – Firearm Death Rates (Per Million People)

(All causes: homicide, suicide, accident; 2023–2024 averages)

Top 20 Countries – Per Million

  1. El Salvador – 400
  2. Honduras – 350
  3. Venezuela – 320
  4. Brazil – 210
  5. Colombia – 180
  6. Mexico – 170
  7. United States – 146
  8. Uruguay – 120
  9. Paraguay – 100
  10. Dominican Republic – 90
  11. Guatemala – 87
  12. South Africa – 85
  13. Ecuador – 80
  14. Peru – 60
  15. Philippines – 55
  16. Canada – 22
  17. France – 20
  18. Germany – 10
  19. United Kingdom – 3
  20. Japan – 1

All 50 U.S. States – Per Million (numbered, one list)

  1. Mississippi – 330
  2. Louisiana – 300
  3. New Mexico – 295
  4. Alabama – 285
  5. Wyoming – 280
  6. Montana – 275
  7. Missouri – 265
  8. Arkansas – 260
  9. Tennessee – 255
  10. Alaska – 250
  11. West Virginia – 210
  12. Oklahoma – 190
  13. South Carolina – 190
  14. Kentucky – 180
  15. Idaho – 170
  16. Texas – 170
  17. Arizona – 165
  18. Georgia – 160
  19. Indiana – 160
  20. Nevada – 155
  21. Florida – 150
  22. North Carolina – 150
  23. Ohio – 150
  24. Kansas – 140
  25. Pennsylvania – 140
  26. Michigan – 135
  27. Colorado – 130
  28. Utah – 130
  29. Delaware – 130
  30. Illinois – 125
  31. Virginia – 120
  32. Iowa – 120
  33. Nebraska – 115
  34. Maryland – 115
  35. South Dakota – 115
  36. North Dakota – 110
  37. Wisconsin – 110
  38. Maine – 100
  39. Vermont – 95
  40. New Hampshire – 95
  41. Oregon – 90
  42. Washington – 85
  43. Minnesota – 80
  44. Connecticut – 70
  45. California – 65
  46. Rhode Island – 60
  47. New York – 55
  48. New Jersey – 50
  49. Hawaii – 45
  50. Massachusetts – 40

Perspective

The U.S. national average is 146 deaths per million. The highest states exceed 300 per million, while the safest are at 50 or below. If every state matched Massachusetts’s rate, national firearm deaths would drop from ~49,000 to roughly 13,000 per year—about a 70% reduction.


Reverence: Renewing a Forgotten Virtue

Suggested by Dan Johnson, Written by Lewis McLain & AI

Based on the book by Paul Woodruff (Oxford University Press, 2001; Revised Edition 2022)




Author Introduction: Paul B. Woodruff (1943–2023)

Paul Woodruff was a philosopher, classicist, educator, soldier, and moral thinker whose half-century career at the University of Texas at Austin left an enduring legacy of both wisdom and warmth.
Born in New Jersey in 1943, he graduated from Princeton University in Classics in 1965, earned a B.A. in Literae Humaniores at Oxford University as a Marshall Scholar, and then served as a U.S. Army captain in Vietnam (1969–1971). After the war, he returned to Princeton for his Ph.D. in Philosophy under Gregory Vlastos, one of the century’s greatest interpreters of Socrates.

When Woodruff joined the faculty of UT Austin in 1973, he brought with him not only academic brilliance but a passion for conversation. As Chair of Philosophy, Director of the Plan II Honors Program, and later Dean of Undergraduate Studies, he embodied his own teaching: that truth begins with humility. In the Joynes Reading Room, he designed and personally crafted the oval seminar table—ensuring that no student would ever sit at the “head.”

His books—including Reverence: Renewing a Forgotten Virtue (2001), First Democracy (2005), The Necessity of Theater (2008), and The Ajax Dilemma (2011)—blend classical insight with moral urgency. In Reverence, he observed a spiritual crisis spreading through modern institutions: the loss of humility and awe. His motivation was not religious nostalgia but civic concern—he feared that a culture which forgets reverence will also forget restraint, gratitude, and love.

Woodruff passed away in 2023, but his life’s work still asks us a timeless question: What do we revere—and what happens to us when we stop?


Chapter-by-Chapter Overview


1. Introducing Reverence

Woodruff opens with a question as ancient as philosophy itself: how do humans live well together? His answer is that societies depend upon a virtue older than law—reverence. It is, he writes, “the well-developed capacity to have the feelings of awe, respect, and shame when these are the right feelings to have.” Reverence keeps us aware of limits: of mortality, of mystery, of the dignity of others. It is the opposite of hubris, the blindness that afflicts both tyrants and mobs.

He insists that reverence is not superstition, nor mere etiquette. It is a cultivated sensitivity to what deserves honor. The truly reverent person feels shame not because others condemn him, but because he recognizes the distance between what is and what ought to be. Reverence protects moral imagination—it reminds us that even our best intentions are small before the vastness of truth.


2. Without Reverence

The second chapter is a mirror held up to modern life. What happens, Woodruff asks, when reverence fades? The result is not freedom but fragmentation. He describes families that eat together without speaking, governments driven by ego, and public speech that mocks rather than listens. When nothing is held sacred, everything becomes disposable.

He uses the metaphor of “hollow ritual”: ceremonies repeated without meaning—graduations, inaugurations, marriages, even prayers—lose their power to shape character. Without reverence, power becomes arrogance and criticism becomes contempt. A civilization that laughs at reverence may enjoy temporary freedom but ultimately loses coherence; its citizens forget how to live with limits or gratitude.


3. Music and a Funeral

Woodruff then paints a scene nearly everyone understands: a funeral. Amid grief, music plays, silence falls, people stand together. No words can explain death, yet ritual gives shape to feeling. In that space of mourning, reverence is reborn. It is not belief that holds mourners together, but shared awe before mystery.

The funeral becomes a parable for all human art. Just as a requiem gathers pain into harmony, so art itself gives reverence form. Reverence, he concludes, is not an idea but a rhythm of the soul—it is learned through gestures, tones, pauses, and attention. In an irreverent age, art may be our last surviving temple.


4. Bare Reverence

This chapter asks: what remains if you strip reverence of religion, nation, or tradition? Woodruff identifies three universal threads. First, reverence requires humility—a recognition of limits. Second, it requires awe—the awareness of something greater. Third, it requires discernment—the ability to distinguish what truly deserves respect from what merely demands it.

He compares reverence to courage: both are habits of the heart rather than doctrines of the mind. Bare reverence can unite believers and skeptics, ancient and modern, because it answers a need rooted in our shared humanity. But he cautions against its counterfeits: fear mistaken for reverence, or idolatry disguised as devotion. True reverence always enlarges; false reverence enslaves.


5. Ancient Greece — The Way of Being Human

Turning to his scholarly home, Woodruff explores how the Greeks made reverence the cornerstone of moral life. In Homer, hubris brings ruin; in Sophocles, the gods teach humility through tragedy. Greek drama, public ritual, and law were all infused with reverence for the unseen order that sustains the city.

He explains how Greek theater itself was an act of civic reverence—performed at religious festivals to remind citizens of their fragility and interdependence. From this, Woodruff extracts a political warning for the present: democracy cannot survive without reverence. When leaders forget limits and citizens scorn the sacred, the state decays from within. The Athenian tragedies, far from relics, are mirrors of modern pride.


6. Ancient China — The Way of Power

Moving east, Woodruff finds in Confucianism a practical school of reverence. Confucius taught that virtue begins in li—ritual propriety. Ritual is not empty ceremony but the training of feeling. Bowing to elders, observing moments of silence, following forms of greeting—all shape humility. Reverence, for Confucius, is embodied before it is understood.

Woodruff contrasts this with the modern West’s suspicion of formality. We think authenticity means spontaneity, yet unrestrained spontaneity often produces disrespect. The Confucian model teaches that form can cultivate freedom: discipline precedes grace. In rediscovering reverent habits—ceremony, gratitude, patience—we recover moral rhythm in an age of improvisation.


7. Reverence Without a Creed

Woodruff now addresses the modern secular conscience. Can reverence survive in a disenchanted world? His answer is yes. Reverence is possible wherever people honor truth or beauty without claiming to own them. The scientist who feels awe before the laws of nature, the judge who bows to justice, or the artist who respects the mystery of creation—all live reverently.

He acknowledges that secularism often drains language of sacred meaning, leaving irony where reverence once stood. Yet he insists that reverence does not require faith; it requires attention. The posture of the astronomer gazing into the night sky or the nurse watching over a dying patient can be as reverent as the monk at prayer.


8. Reverence Across Religions

Here Woodruff becomes anthropologist and theologian. He finds reverence at the heart of all major faiths: in Christian worship, Buddhist mindfulness, Muslim submission, Jewish remembrance, and Confucian order. Across these differences, a common pattern emerges—ritual, humility, silence, and gratitude.

But he also exposes the danger: religion without reverence becomes idolatry of power. When faith is used to dominate rather than to serve, it betrays itself. The cure, he says, is empathy—the capacity to “feel what is sacred to another.” That practice of reverent curiosity could, in his view, do more for peace than any treaty.


9. Relativism

In one of his most philosophically subtle chapters, Woodruff tackles relativism. If reverence takes many forms, does that mean anything can be revered? He answers no. Reverence requires moral judgment. To revere cruelty, wealth, or ideology is to pervert the virtue. Reverence must always be joined to truth and justice.

He calls this “critical reverence”—respect without surrender. It keeps us from both arrogance and moral paralysis. Reverence does not freeze values; it tests them. Thus, Woodruff offers reverence as a moral compass for pluralism: we can honor different paths without denying that some lead nowhere.


10. The Reverent Leader

Leadership, he writes, is the public face of reverence. The leader’s task is not to command worship but to model restraint. In ancient societies, kings performed sacrifices not to feed gods but to remind themselves of dependence. The wise leader still performs symbolic acts of humility—listening, apologizing, serving.

Woodruff contrasts this with the “pageantry of ego” that fills modern politics and business. Ceremony, when genuine, steadies authority by binding it to shared values. Reverence, not charisma, gives leaders legitimacy. The reverent leader measures success not by control but by the flourishing of those they serve.


11. The Silent Teacher

Few sections reveal Woodruff’s heart more than this one. As a lifelong educator, he believed that the classroom is a temple of truth. Reverent teaching begins in silence—the pause that honors the student and the subject. The teacher, like Socrates, must be humble before wisdom itself.

He contrasts two styles of education: one that seeks victory, the other that seeks understanding. The first breeds arrogance; the second breeds reverence. A reverent teacher listens, models curiosity, and treats every question as sacred. For Woodruff, education is the moral rehearsal of democracy—an arena where reverence for truth and for one another coexist.


12. Home

Reverence, Woodruff reminds us, must be domestic as well as civic. The home is the first moral school, and its rituals—shared meals, greetings, bedtime prayers—are the small liturgies of love. They teach gratitude and patience, grounding children in respect for one another and for life itself.

Drawing on The Odyssey, he contrasts Odysseus’s restless striving with Telemachus’s steadiness and Penelope’s faithfulness. Reverence, he suggests, keeps home sacred even in absence or struggle. When families abandon ritual for convenience, they lose the grammar of love. But even a simple grace before dinner can restore proportion and gratitude.


13. Sacred Things (Added in the Revised Edition)

In the revised edition, Woodruff asks: what counts as sacred in a secular age? For some it is God; for others, justice, the planet, or human rights. Sacred things are those beyond price—objects or values that must not be exploited or mocked. Reverence protects them, not through coercion but through care.

He distinguishes reverence from idolatry. To idolize is to possess; to revere is to approach gently. When societies lose reverence for the sacred—whether for nature, life, or truth—they begin to desecrate. Reverence thus becomes an ecological and moral safeguard, reminding us that the world itself is worthy of awe.


14. Compassion (Added in the Revised Edition)

Compassion, Woodruff writes, is reverence in motion—the outward expression of inner humility. Compassion honors suffering as something sacred. Yet he warns that compassion without reverence can become self-righteous, the vanity of those who feel virtuous for caring. Reverence disciplines compassion by keeping it humble and alert to dignity rather than pity.

He illustrates this through failures of compassion: bureaucratic cruelty, ideological purity, and the cold efficiency of systems that forget people. Reverence corrects these by re-humanizing vision. To treat each person as sacred is to unite compassion with justice.


15. Epilogue — Renewing Reverence

The closing chapter is not theoretical but practical. Reverence cannot be commanded; it must be cultivated through daily acts—silence before speech, gratitude before demand, reflection before judgment. These habits, he says, are like seeds that restore moral soil.

Woodruff’s final claim—“Reverence can save lives”—is both literal and prophetic. In war, reverence prevents atrocity; in politics, it tempers pride; in family life, it heals cruelty. The measure of a culture is not its wealth or innovation but its capacity for reverence. Without it, progress itself becomes dangerous.


Appendix: Reflection & Discussion Guide

This appendix offers core questions and reflection prompts for readers, classes, and study groups.


1. Introducing Reverence

Core Questions:

  • How is reverence different from politeness or worship?
  • Why does humility form its foundation?
    Reflection:
  • Recall a moment when awe or shame guided you toward respect. What did it teach you?

2. Without Reverence

Core Questions:

  • What happens to a community when reverence disappears?
    Reflection:
  • Identify one modern sphere—politics, education, family—where reverence has eroded. What replaced it?

3. Music and a Funeral

Core Questions:

  • Why does art succeed where argument fails in teaching reverence?
    Reflection:
  • When has music or ceremony helped you face loss or meaning beyond words?

4. Bare Reverence

Core Questions:

  • What elements make reverence universal?
    Reflection:
  • What idols—wealth, ideology, pride—most threaten true reverence today?

5. Ancient Greece

Core Questions:

  • What lessons about leadership and humility do Greek tragedies offer?
    Reflection:
  • Where do modern leaders exhibit hubris similar to classical heroes?

6. Ancient China

Core Questions:

  • How does ritual shape moral character?
    Reflection:
  • Which small daily gestures could become rituals of gratitude in your life?

7. Reverence Without a Creed

Core Questions:

  • Can a secular person be genuinely reverent?
    Reflection:
  • What do you personally revere—truth, beauty, conscience, or faith?

8. Reverence Across Religions

Core Questions:

  • How can reverence create bridges between faiths?
    Reflection:
  • Have you ever honored another tradition’s sacred space? What did it teach you?

9. Relativism

Core Questions:

  • How does reverence differ from moral relativism?
    Reflection:
  • How do you discern what is worthy of reverence and what is not?

10. The Reverent Leader

Core Questions:

  • What distinguishes reverent leadership from authoritarian command?
    Reflection:
  • Identify a leader—historical or personal—who modeled reverence. What habits define them?

11. The Silent Teacher

Core Questions:

  • What does silence teach that speech cannot?
    Reflection:
  • How could reverence change the way we teach, mentor, or learn?

12. Home

Core Questions:

  • What makes home a sacred space?
    Reflection:
  • Which family traditions or rituals nurture gratitude and respect in your home?

13. Sacred Things

Core Questions:

  • How should a pluralistic society treat what different people hold sacred?
    Reflection:
  • How can we defend others’ sacred values without surrendering our own?

14. Compassion

Core Questions:

  • Why does Woodruff say compassion is reverence in action?
    Reflection:
  • How might reverent compassion transform public discourse or leadership?

15. Epilogue: Renewing Reverence

Core Questions:

  • How can reverence be practiced rather than merely admired?
    Reflection:
  • What one habit—silence, gratitude, listening, humility—could you begin today to renew reverence in your life?

Why Reverence Still Matters in 2025

In an age defined by speed, outrage, and self-promotion, Paul Woodruff’s call for reverence feels prophetic. He warned that societies crumble when they lose awe for what transcends them. In 2025—when technology races ahead, discourse grows coarse, and power outpaces restraint—reverence remains not a luxury but a necessity.

Reverence is the quiet art of perspective. It begins with humility: the awareness that we are small and that truth, justice, and beauty are larger than our ambitions. Progress without humility becomes peril; freedom without restraint becomes chaos. Reverence restores proportion—it reminds leaders that authority is stewardship, teachers that learning is sacred, and citizens that freedom must bow to responsibility.

Woodruff’s insight was not nostalgic but urgent. Reverence, he wrote, “can save lives.” It anchors moral balance in a time of excess. It softens rhetoric, steadies conscience, and revives community. To live reverently in 2025 is therefore an act of resistance against arrogance and noise. It means pausing before judgment, listening before speaking, and honoring what deserves honor—whether God, truth, or the dignity of others.

Paul Woodruff’s passing in 2023 closed a life spent teaching that the highest form of wisdom is humility. His legacy endures in every classroom, household, and public square where people remember that greatness lies not in control but in what we revere. If we can again stand in awe before truth and kindness, reverence will not be forgotten—it will live anew.

Forgiveness and Redemption in Scripture, Life, and Literature

By Lewis McLain & AI

I. Biblical Foundation: Forgiveness First, Redemption Next

Erika Kirk forgave Charlie’s killer, pointing to Christ’s words from the cross: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” Her act of mercy embodied the heart of the Gospel—entrusting justice to God, rejecting bitterness, and opening the door to redemption.

The Bible presents forgiveness and redemption as inseparable. Forgiveness cancels the debt; redemption restores life and dignity. Paul wrote, “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins” (Ephesians 1:7). Forgiveness is not weakness or excusing evil—it is entrusting vengeance to God and releasing hatred. Redemption then builds on that foundation, transforming what was broken into something new.



This is the theme W. A. Criswell called The Scarlet Thread Through the Bible. From Genesis to Revelation, the story of Scripture is the story of redemption through the blood of Christ. The animal slain to clothe Adam and Eve, the Passover lamb in Egypt, the sacrifices in Leviticus, the prophecies of Isaiah, the cross of Calvary, and the redeemed multitudes in Revelation—all are tied together by one scarlet thread: forgiveness by blood, redemption by grace.


II. What This Means Today: Living Forgiveness in Modern Life

In the Home

Families are the first classrooms of forgiveness. A husband and wife who refuse to forgive calcify around resentments. Parents who forgive rebellious children model the father in the parable of the prodigal son, who ran to embrace his returning child.

A teenager who totals the family car may face consequences, repayment, or loss of privileges. Yet when the parent says, “I love you. We will get through this together,” forgiveness restores trust where anger alone would sever it. Families that practice forgiveness learn resilience; those that don’t fracture under the weight of accumulated grievances.

In the Community

Communities unravel when grudges fester. They are healed when forgiveness is practiced. The Amish of Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania, in 2006 forgave the man who murdered their children, visiting his widow to comfort her and even contributing to her support. Their forgiveness stunned the watching world.

In daily life, forgiveness might take the form of neighbors ending a property-line feud with a handshake, or a school board reconciling after heated conflict. Communities cannot legislate love, but they can embody it. Forgiveness prevents bitterness from defining the neighborhood and replaces hostility with shared peace.

In the Workplace

Workplaces thrive or rot on whether people forgive. A forgiven mistake can become a growth story; an unforgiven one can poison culture. A financial firm once forgave a young broker after a costly trading error, retrained him, and gave him another chance. He later became one of the company’s top leaders. Forgiveness became an investment, not a liability.

When leaders practice forgiveness, accountability does not disappear, but it is coupled with dignity. Employees learn that mistakes can be addressed without humiliation, and culture shifts from fear to resilience. Forgiveness builds loyalty; unforgiveness breeds turnover and distrust.

In Government and Public Life

Forgiveness in government never erases justice, but it tempers it. After apartheid, South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission created space for confession, repentance, and conditional amnesty. Victims spoke, perpetrators admitted crimes, and some measure of national healing began. In the United States, President Gerald Ford pardoned Richard Nixon to spare the country endless bitterness over Watergate.

In some American cities, restorative-justice programs allow offenders and victims to meet face-to-face. Offenders confess, victims voice pain, and restitution is required. Forgiveness then becomes more than sentiment—it takes on civic power, reducing recidivism and building safer communities. Mercy and justice, long at odds, begin to work together.


III. Forgiveness and Redemption in Literature

Les Misérables — Victor Hugo (1862)

Jean Valjean, imprisoned for stealing bread, emerges from prison hardened and bitter. When Bishop Myriel forgives him for stealing silver and even gifts him more, Valjean’s life changes course. He devotes himself to mercy, raising Cosette, protecting Marius, and showing compassion to the poor. His lifelong nemesis, Inspector Javert, hunts him relentlessly but cannot comprehend mercy.

The contrast between Valjean and Javert is the contrast between forgiveness and unforgiveness. Valjean finds redemption in grace; Javert cannot accept it and perishes. Hugo suggests that forgiveness not only transforms individuals but has the potential to reshape an unjust society.

The Count of Monte Cristo — Alexandre Dumas (1844)

Edmond Dantès is betrayed by false friends, falsely imprisoned, and robbed of years of his life. Escaping from prison, he discovers a treasure and reinvents himself as the Count of Monte Cristo. He systematically destroys his betrayers, one by one, savoring their ruin. For years, revenge consumes him.

Yet vengeance leaves him empty. He eventually spares some of his enemies and recognizes that only mercy can give him peace. Forgiveness becomes his redemption, liberating him from hatred. Dumas shows that vengeance enslaves the avenger, while forgiveness frees both offender and victim.

The Brothers Karamazov — Fyodor Dostoevsky (1880)

This Russian epic explores forgiveness as a communal duty rather than a private choice. Father Zosima insists that each person is responsible for all others’ sins, binding humanity together in shared guilt and mercy. Dmitri, the eldest brother, learns to repent and seek forgiveness. Ivan, the intellectual skeptic, despairs over a world of suffering that seems to defy forgiveness. Alyosha, the youngest, becomes the living embodiment of mercy.

Dostoevsky portrays forgiveness as agonizing, costly, and communal. Redemption does not emerge from philosophy or law but from grace lived out in flesh and blood. The novel insists that forgiveness is humanity’s only hope for breaking cycles of despair.

Cry, the Beloved Country — Alan Paton (1948)

Set in apartheid South Africa, this novel follows Stephen Kumalo, a black pastor who discovers his son has killed the son of James Jarvis, a wealthy white landowner. All seems set for permanent hatred. Yet the fathers meet and, through grief, discover forgiveness.

Their fragile reconciliation becomes a symbol of what South Africa desperately needed: mercy that could lead to national redemption. Paton does not romanticize forgiveness; he shows its difficulty. Yet he insists it is the only way to heal deep racial divides and to build a shared future.

The Hiding Place — Corrie ten Boom (1971)

Corrie ten Boom’s family hid Jews during World War II, were arrested, and suffered terribly in Ravensbrück concentration camp. After the war, Corrie spoke widely on forgiveness. One day, she was approached by a former prison guard who had repented and asked for her pardon.

In that moment, Corrie wrestled with rage and weakness. Yet she extended her hand and forgave him, later writing that it was not her strength but Christ’s. Forgiveness freed both guard and survivor, redeeming not only his guilt but her pain. Corrie’s story shows that forgiveness can seem impossible—yet with God, redemption is possible even in the darkest places.

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe — C. S. Lewis (1950)

Edmund betrays his siblings for Turkish delight and the White Witch’s false promises. His treachery condemns him to death by law. Aslan, the great lion, offers himself in Edmund’s place, dies, and rises again. Edmund is forgiven and restored to his family.

Lewis uses children’s fantasy to portray profound theology. Forgiveness costs sacrifice; redemption transforms the forgiven into someone new. Edmund becomes courageous and loyal, his betrayal redeemed by grace. Forgiveness and redemption here are not abstract—they are embodied in blood, sacrifice, and renewal.

A Tale of Two Cities — Charles Dickens (1859)

Sydney Carton begins as a bitter, wasted man—drunk, cynical, and purposeless. Yet through his love for Lucie, he discovers the possibility of redemption. In the climax, Carton takes another man’s place at the guillotine during the French Revolution, offering his life in sacrifice.

His final words—“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done”—mark his transformation. Carton forgives himself for wasted years, redeems his life through death, and shows that even the most broken person can end in glory. Forgiveness clears his shame; redemption crowns his story.

Great Expectations — Charles Dickens (1861)

Pip, a poor boy suddenly elevated by wealth, becomes ashamed of his upbringing and mistreats Joe, the blacksmith who raised him with kindness. He pursues false dreams of gentility, only to watch them collapse. Humbled, he returns to Joe in repentance.

Joe forgives him without hesitation, restoring their relationship. Redemption comes not through wealth but through forgiveness and humility. Pip matures, learning that love and loyalty matter more than status. Dickens portrays forgiveness as the foundation for personal redemption and moral growth.

East of Eden — John Steinbeck (1952)

Steinbeck reimagines the biblical story of Cain and Abel across generations in California’s Salinas Valley. Families repeat cycles of sin, betrayal, and vengeance. Yet the novel hinges on one word: timshel—“thou mayest.”

“Timshel” insists that each person can choose forgiveness instead of vengeance. Redemption is never fated, but always possible. Forgiveness breaks the cycle, and redemption emerges when people seize their freedom to choose mercy. Steinbeck offers hope in the midst of human brokenness.

Uncle Tom’s Cabin — Harriet Beecher Stowe (1852)

Uncle Tom suffers under slavery’s cruelty yet refuses to hate his oppressors. Even when beaten to death, he prays for his tormentors. His forgiveness becomes a moral witness that redeems others, piercing even hardened hearts.

Stowe uses Tom’s forgiveness to expose slavery’s evil and to show mercy as resistance. Forgiveness redeems not only individuals but can move the conscience of a nation. The novel helped spark movements that changed history, suggesting that forgiveness can be a force for social redemption.

The Secret Garden — Frances Hodgson Burnett (1911)

Mary Lennox and Colin Craven begin as bitter, selfish, and isolated children. Through friendship, care, and the willingness to forgive themselves and others, they begin to heal. The hidden, barren garden comes alive again as they change.

Forgiveness transforms their relationships, and the garden becomes a metaphor for redemption. What was neglected and dead blooms with life. Burnett shows that forgiveness can soften hearts, restore families, and redeem what seemed lost.

Heidi — Johanna Spyri (1881)

Heidi, an orphan girl, goes to live with her embittered grandfather in the Swiss Alps. At first cold and harsh, he is gradually melted by Heidi’s innocence, love, and forgiveness. She brings joy not only to him but to all she meets.

Her grandfather’s transformation is redemption born of forgiveness. Their home, once joyless, becomes full of warmth and light. Spyri portrays childlike love and mercy as powers that heal and redeem the hardest hearts.

To Kill a Mockingbird — Harper Lee (1960)

Set in the American South, the novel explores justice and prejudice. Atticus Finch teaches his children to forgive insults and hostility. Scout learns to see life from Boo Radley’s perspective, realizing he is not a monster but a protector.

Boo’s redemption—from feared recluse to guardian—depends on the town’s willingness to see him differently and forgive past misunderstandings. Forgiveness reshapes perception, and redemption restores dignity. Lee shows that mercy changes how we see—and how we live.

The Kite Runner — Khaled Hosseini (2003)

Amir betrays his loyal friend Hassan as a child, and the guilt haunts him for decades. Hassan dies before forgiveness can be spoken. Yet Amir seeks redemption by rescuing Hassan’s son from Afghanistan, risking his life to give the boy a future.

The journey is dangerous, painful, and costly, but it redeems Amir’s betrayal. Hosseini shows that even when forgiveness cannot be received directly, redemption remains possible through courage and sacrifice. Forgiveness opens the way; redemption completes it.


IV. Conclusion: Release and Renewal

When Erika Kirk forgave Charlie’s killer, she bore witness to the scarlet thread Criswell described—the flow of forgiveness and redemption running through history and through human hearts. Her words echoed Christ’s from the cross, proving that mercy is not weakness but power, and that redemption begins wherever forgiveness is given.

(Erika Kirk video here — click or paste this line: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9OUj_Hzgnjs)


Two years after an assassin’s bullet nearly took his life in St. Peter’s Square, Pope John Paul II offered one of the most public and profound examples of that same mercy. On May 13, 1981, the Pope was shot at close range by a Turkish gunman, Mehmet Ali Ağca, and nearly died. While recovering, he announced that he forgave his attacker. Then, on December 27, 1983, he visited Ağca in prison. In a small cell in Rome’s Rebibbia Prison, the Pope sat face-to-face with the man who had tried to kill him, held his hand, and spoke to him quietly as a brother. That image—the white-robed pontiff leaning toward his assailant in a gesture of peace—became one of the defining portraits of forgiveness in the modern world. John Paul II’s mercy embodied the truth he preached: that forgiveness is stronger than fear, and redemption can reach even into the darkest corners of human intent.



From Scripture to Hugo, Dickens, Dostoevsky, Paton, Ten Boom, Lewis, and Hosseini, the pattern is clear: forgiveness releases, redemption restores. Forgiveness ends cycles of bitterness; redemption gives new purpose. Together, they are humanity’s deepest hope—for individuals, families, communities, and nations.

The Bible declares it; life demands it; literature dramatizes it. Revenge destroys. Forgiveness liberates. Redemption renews.

The Boy Who Never Quite Learned to Dance

By Lewis McLain & AI

The first record I ever bought was a 45 rpm of Buddy Holly’s “Peggy Sue.” That tiny disc felt like it held the universe. I’d play it over and over, the guitar hiccupping like a nervous teenager and Buddy’s voice bouncing like he was trying not to spill a secret. And with every spin, my imagination took off. I could see myself out there in the middle of the dance floor, shirt collar open, fists pumping, sneakers pounding the wood in glorious rhythm. I wasn’t just dancing—I was inventing new categories of cool.



The Imagination

But imagination is a dangerous liar.

I was actually a wall flower somewhat comfortable just watching and wishing.


The Wall Flower Reality

Reality came when someone (probably one of my great friends from the third grade, Beverly or Janet) grabbed me by the sleeve and dragged me out onto the floor during a dance at the Teen Club in Farmers Branch. It wasn’t even a free form, “just shake and look natural” kind of number. No—this was a line formation. Rules. Steps. Coordination. I was in trouble.

My imagination became a mind recorder that night. I could practically see the playback: my feet trying to decide if left meant left or if left meant “trip over yourself.” My arms were pumping like I was milking invisible cows to some rock tune. And my face—my face was locked in that grimace-smile combination unique to teenagers who know they’re failing but are determined to look like they’re not.

I earned myself a C-minus, at best. And that was on a generous grading curve.



When I landed at the UNT campus (North Texas State University from 1961 to 1988), I thought maybe geography would help. New place, new people, new me. That’s when I met Linda, my Peggy Sue. Linda could dance. Linda had courage. And Linda—bless her—decided to loan me a little of both. With her experience and with a whisper of alcohol acting like rocket fuel to me at the time, dancing began to seem possible. Not easy, but possible. My grade improved to a C+ territory.

Still, I knew who the real dancer was. Linda glided. I lurched. Linda spun, and I rotated like a stubborn washing machine on its last cycle. But somehow it worked, because she kept encouraging me back onto the floor. She was patient and kind.

Fast forward to our mid-marriage years: Our solution? Humor. Any hopes for rhythm by booze were years in the past. But still—miraculously—we were moving and no longer needed the floor space we once did. Picture two hugging bears, braving the trip onto the floor, bobbing rhythmically and occasionally parting and then colliding. That was us. Linda still had it, but I set new lows even though we laughed through every step of it.



Now we’ve reached the senior edition of dancing. We’ve lost most of the urge to dance, yes, but we’ve also lost our audience. The dance floor has shrunk to the size of a kitchen, sometimes no bigger than the space between the refrigerator and the kitchen table. The music doesn’t come from Buddy Holly’s 45 anymore—it comes from whatever the Alexa thinks we meant when we said, “Play something we can dance to.” However, we don’t need any music.

We stick to slow dancing now. Easy to fake, harder to mess up. A sway, a shuffle, a turn if the knees allow. No one’s grading anymore. No one’s even watching. And that’s the secret: the freedom to just move, no grades, no pressure, no audience but each other.

From Peggy Sue to the kitchen floor, from C-minus to C-plus to “who cares,” we’ve carried the rhythm the best way we knew how. We never got to A-level dancing since I was the leg ball and chain. But we got the one grade that matters in the long run: an A in joy.

Because when the lights are low and the kitchen is ours, we aren’t as mobile anymore. We’re just two kids who never stopped trying. LFM

Israel, Hamas, and American Opinion After October 7: Shifts, Causes, Outside Forces, and Prospects for Change

A collaboration between Lewis McLain & AI



Introduction

The Israel–Palestine conflict has long been one of the most polarizing issues in American politics and foreign policy. For decades, the majority of Americans leaned pro-Israel, citing shared democratic values, religious affinities, and strategic alignment. But in recent years, opinion has shifted, with growing criticism of Israeli policies, particularly regarding Gaza and the West Bank. The Hamas assault on Israel on October 7, 2023, reset the terms of debate—infusing discussions with new urgency, symbolism, and polarization.

At the same time, a U.S.-backed 20-point peace and reconstruction proposal now dangles the possibility of a ceasefire and political transition, if Hamas were to accept it. To understand today’s moment, one must examine American opinion, the meaning of October 7, Hamas’s motivations, the influence of external patrons like Iran, the role of Judeo-Christian heritage in shaping U.S. perceptions, and the possible outcomes of an acceptance of the plan. But to gain a full picture, it is also necessary to look at the Palestinian civilian experience, the reactions of neighboring Arab states, the role of U.S. domestic politics, the legal and human rights discourse, and the long-term question of Palestinian statehood.


American Opinion: Pro vs. Critical Israel Views

For decades, surveys by Gallup and Pew consistently showed that a clear plurality of Americans sympathized more with Israel than with Palestinians. In the early 2000s, this gap was often forty to fifty percentage points. Yet by 2025 the picture looks dramatically different. According to Pew Research, as of April 2025, fifty-three percent of Americans now hold an unfavorable view of Israel, up from forty-two percent in 2022.¹ Gallup polling in July 2025 showed that only forty-six percent of Americans say their sympathies lie more with Israel—the lowest figure in over twenty-five years.² An AP-NORC survey in 2025 found that about half of Americans believe Israel’s military response in Gaza has gone too far.³

This shift is not evenly distributed. Republicans remain strongly pro-Israel, while Democrats, especially younger Democrats, increasingly tilt toward sympathy for Palestinians. Independents fall in between, often critical of Israeli military action but still wary of Hamas. Generational change is the most striking factor of all. Among Americans under thirty, support for military aid to Israel hovers near fifteen percent, while among seniors it is closer to fifty-five percent. Younger cohorts are more influenced by social media, human rights frameworks, and anti-colonial narratives. Older generations often view Israel through Cold War, religious, or security lenses. The result is not a wholesale abandonment of Israel, but rather an erosion of support, a rise in criticism, and a new polarization that reflects party, age, and worldview.


The Weight of October 7

The Hamas assault on October 7, 2023—killing over one thousand Israelis, wounding thousands more, and abducting hundreds—functions as a watershed moment in the conflict. Its weight is felt in several dimensions. For many Israelis and their allies, October 7 is synonymous with atrocity. The brutality of the attack—striking homes, a music festival, and entire kibbutzim—carries symbolic force that justifies Israel’s demand for uncompromising security guarantees. Yet to critics, October 7 is a tragedy that does not justify the scale of retaliation unleashed on Gaza.

In the United States, the attack initially sparked a surge of solidarity with Israel, much like the wave of sympathy that followed the September 11 attacks. But as images of destruction in Gaza accumulated, sympathy began to shift. What began as proof of Israel’s victimhood became, for many Americans, the starting point for questioning the proportionality of Israel’s response.²

October 7 also functions as a tool of negotiation leverage: Israel cites it to frame its non-negotiables, insisting that Hamas must be disarmed, that security must be guaranteed, and that no agreement can permit the possibility of another such assault. Yet the event is also a constraint, for Israel’s retaliation—justified as defense—has generated accusations of collective punishment. Thus, the same event that legitimizes Israel’s military campaign also forces it to defend its proportionality on the world stage.


Why Hamas Did It

The reasons behind Hamas’s decision to launch such a devastating attack are debated, but several explanations recur. Many observers argue that Hamas had grown frustrated with incrementalism. For years the organization experimented with truces, partial ceasefires, and appeals to international bodies, only to see Israeli settlement expansion and Gaza’s blockade continue. Escalation, they may have concluded, was the only way to reset the agenda and force international attention.

Others point to internal legitimacy. Hamas governs Gaza but faces pressure from rival groups such as Palestinian Islamic Jihad, along with deep frustration from its own population over poverty, isolation, and the lack of progress. A dramatic attack was a way to reassert dominance, galvanize support, and forestall internal dissent. Strategically, Hamas may also have been seeking to disrupt regional developments, particularly the normalization of relations between Israel and Sunni Arab states such as Saudi Arabia. By provoking Israel, Hamas hoped to inflame Arab public opinion, complicate normalization, and force external actors to intervene.

At the deepest level, Hamas remains guided by its ideological commitment to resistance. Its charter and rhetoric emphasize opposition to Israel’s very existence, and October 7 can be read as an existential reaffirmation of that stance. At the same time, some analysts suggest Hamas miscalculated. Its leaders may have believed Israel’s retaliation would be limited and quickly restrained by international mediators. Instead, the scale of destruction in Gaza far exceeded what Hamas may have anticipated.⁴ Taken together, the October 7 attack was strategic, ideological, opportunistic, and in many ways a gamble born of overreach.


Iran as Hamas’s Patron and Proxy Role

Beyond Hamas’s own logic lies the role of external sponsorship. For years, Hamas has received funding, weapons technology, and training from Iran. While Hamas is not a simple puppet and pursues its own agenda, most analysts agree it functions as part of Iran’s broader network of proxies that includes Hezbollah in Lebanon, Shi’a militias in Iraq, and the Houthis in Yemen. Iran’s strategy is to keep Israel under constant pressure and to prevent U.S.-backed normalization with Arab neighbors. By supporting Hamas, Iran ensures that Israel faces a southern front in Gaza, complementing Hezbollah’s threat to the north.

The October 7 attack, therefore, was not simply a local escalation but also part of a larger regional struggle. Iran seeks to destabilize Israel, to test U.S. resolve, and to derail diplomatic initiatives that might isolate Tehran. Hamas’s role in this wider strategy underscores the conflict’s complexity: it is not only a bilateral struggle between Israel and Palestinians but also a node in the proxy wars of the Middle East.


The Judeo-Christian Heritage and American Blind Spots

Another overlooked factor in this debate is cultural and religious. Many American Christians strongly support Israel, viewing it as the biblical homeland and democracy’s outpost in the Middle East. Yet many of these same Christians are unaware of how deeply their own faith is Judeo-Christian in heritage. Christianity did not arise in isolation. Its Scriptures are rooted in the Hebrew Bible, its Messiah was a Jew, its moral law flows from the Torah, and its covenantal language rests on Israel’s story.

When Americans identify themselves as Christians, they are in fact standing within a Judeo-Christian stream. Their churches preach from Old Testament texts, their ethics are shaped by the Ten Commandments and the prophets, and their vision of redemption is drawn from Jewish categories. This explains why U.S. leaders so often invoke the phrase “Judeo-Christian values” to describe the foundation of Western society. Yet many ordinary believers fail to recognize how inseparably their faith is bound up with Judaism. That ignorance distorts the conversation. Some support Israel sentimentally without realizing that their entire theological framework already testifies to profound continuity with Jewish faith. Others oppose Israel politically while failing to see that their religious identity is inseparably tied to Jewish Scripture and history.

Acknowledging the Judeo-Christian reality clarifies why Israel holds such symbolic power in the American imagination. It also shows why debates over Israel so often transcend geopolitics to touch questions of theology, identity, and moral vision.


The Palestinian Civilian Perspective

Missing in many Western debates is the perspective of ordinary Palestinians. For civilians in Gaza, daily life has been marked by repeated wars, blockade, and chronic deprivation. The majority of Gaza’s population are refugees or descendants of refugees from the 1948 war. They live with restricted freedom of movement, unreliable electricity, limited water, high unemployment, and constant psychological strain. Each new round of bombing brings not only death and destruction but also the loss of homes, schools, and hospitals. For many Palestinians, Hamas is resented as an authoritarian ruler yet tolerated—or even supported—because it is perceived as the only force standing up to Israel.

In the West Bank, Palestinians live under military checkpoints, settlement expansion, and sporadic violence. For them, the problem is not just Hamas or Israeli retaliation but the sense of permanent displacement and powerlessness. This perspective helps explain why ceasefires alone cannot resolve the conflict. Without addressing the daily indignities and despair of Palestinian civilians, political solutions remain brittle.


Regional Arab Reactions

The conflict does not occur in isolation. Arab states watch closely and respond with their own interests in mind. Egypt, which controls Gaza’s southern border at Rafah, fears a mass exodus of refugees into the Sinai and therefore keeps the border tightly controlled even while calling for humanitarian relief. Jordan, with its large Palestinian population, faces constant pressure, fearing unrest if violence escalates. Saudi Arabia, which was moving toward normalization with Israel in 2023, pulled back after October 7, wary of angering its own public. Gulf states such as Qatar play a mediator role, hosting Hamas leaders and channeling aid into Gaza while maintaining relations with Washington.

Thus, the Arab world is divided between governments that fear instability and publics that remain deeply sympathetic to Palestinians. This gap shapes diplomacy: leaders often act pragmatically, but street opinion remains a constant constraint. The regional dimension means that any settlement is not just an Israel–Palestine question but a balance among Egypt, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, the Gulf states, and Iran.


U.S. Domestic Politics Beyond Opinion Polls

Shifts in American public opinion have translated into political pressure. In Congress, debates rage over whether U.S. military aid to Israel should remain unconditional. Progressive Democrats have called for conditioning or suspending arms sales, while Republicans insist on continued support. Presidential politics reflect this divide as well. The Biden administration sought to balance solidarity with Israel and concern for humanitarian costs, while Trump’s second term has leaned heavily toward Israel-first policies, framing them as both strategic and biblical. The divide over Israel now echoes the larger partisan polarization of American politics, making Middle East policy yet another battleground in the culture wars.


Legal and Human Rights Discourse

International law has become a central arena in this conflict. Human rights organizations such as Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have accused Israel of practicing apartheid in its treatment of Palestinians.⁵ The International Court of Justice has issued advisory opinions on the illegality of settlements and the separation barrier.⁶ The United Nations has debated resolutions calling for ceasefires and humanitarian access. Meanwhile, supporters of Israel argue that Hamas’s deliberate targeting of civilians on October 7 constitutes war crimes, even genocide.⁷

This legal discourse matters because it shapes global opinion and diplomatic alliances. In Europe, Latin America, and Africa, references to international law increasingly drive critiques of Israel’s conduct. The United States remains more cautious in its language, but growing legal pressure is eroding Israel’s standing abroad and fueling calls for accountability.


The Long-Term Question of Statehood

Beneath the immediacy of ceasefires and military campaigns lies the unresolved question of Palestinian statehood. The two-state solution, once the consensus vision of the international community, appears increasingly distant as Israeli settlements expand and Palestinian politics remain fractured. Some analysts argue that the conflict is already sliding into a one-state reality in which Israel controls the territory between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean, with Palestinians relegated to varying degrees of restricted autonomy.

If the two-state solution collapses entirely, the struggle will shift from questions of sovereignty to questions of equal rights. Palestinians would then press for full political equality in a single state, a demand that would challenge Israel’s identity as a Jewish state. This horizon—two states, one unequal state, or one democratic state—is the long-term issue that no 20-point plan can resolve. It remains the core dilemma of the conflict.


The 20-Point Plan: What Would Change if Hamas Accepts?

The U.S.-backed 20-point plan seeks to blend ceasefire, humanitarian relief, hostage exchanges, demilitarization, and transitional governance. If Hamas were to accept it, the immediate effects would be dramatic. Fighting would halt, hostages would be released, and aid would flow into Gaza at an unprecedented scale. Families would experience relief, and international organizations would finally be able to reach many of the displaced and wounded. Israel would begin phased withdrawal from certain areas, although it would retain security control over borders, airspace, and maritime access.

Over the longer term, acceptance would require Hamas to disarm or place its weapons under international oversight, thereby transforming it from an armed movement into a constrained political actor. Gaza would enter a period of transitional governance, possibly under a mix of international and Palestinian Authority administration. For the United States, such acceptance would represent a major diplomatic success. Yet enormous risks would remain. Verification of disarmament is notoriously difficult, and hidden stockpiles could undermine trust. Both Israeli hardliners and Palestinian radicals would likely denounce the plan as betrayal. Moreover, the deal does not address the thorniest issues of all: the status of Jerusalem, the rights of Palestinian refugees, and the future of Israeli settlements in the West Bank. Without progress on those, peace would remain fragile.


Scenario Analysis: Three Paths Forward

If Hamas accepts the plan fully, the best-case scenario would see the war end, hostages return, and Gaza begin rebuilding under international oversight. Hamas would transition toward politics, Israel would enjoy greater security, and U.S. diplomacy would claim a rare victory. Yet this outcome would still rest on fragile foundations. Splinter groups might refuse to comply, and unresolved final-status issues could quickly reignite conflict.

A more middling scenario is that Hamas accepts only partially or with conditions. In this case, fighting would diminish but flare-ups would continue, some hostages would be released while others remained captive, and aid would enter Gaza only unevenly. Hamas might retain hidden weapons, while Israel maintained buffer zones and periodic military operations. Reconstruction would proceed slowly and be subject to political manipulation. In such a scenario, accusations of betrayal would mount, and the truce could collapse under pressure.

The worst-case scenario is outright rejection. In that event, fighting would continue, hostages would remain in captivity, and Gaza’s humanitarian crisis would deepen further. Israel would entrench its occupation of parts of Gaza, Hamas would double down on militancy, and regional diplomacy would collapse. Civilian casualties would mount, American public opinion would grow more critical, and the risk of wider regional escalation, involving Hezbollah or other Iranian proxies, would increase dramatically.


Conclusion

American opinion toward Israel has shifted from broad sympathy to a fractured and skeptical stance, especially among younger generations. The October 7 attack remains the lodestar of today’s debates: to Israel and its supporters, it is proof of the need for uncompromising security; to critics, it is a tragedy that cannot justify the scale of destruction in Gaza. Hamas launched the attack out of frustration, rivalry, ideology, and miscalculation—but also with the financial and strategic backing of Iran, as part of a broader proxy war.

Meanwhile, many American Christians, who speak most loudly on these issues, often forget that their faith is Judeo-Christian at its root. That heritage explains both the depth of solidarity with Israel and the intensity of the American debate. But beyond American debates lie the daily struggles of Palestinian civilians, the calculations of neighboring Arab states, the battles within U.S. politics, the judgments of international law, and the unresolved horizon of Palestinian statehood.

The 20-point plan now before the parties offers three possible futures. In the best case, Hamas accepts and Gaza gains a fragile reprieve. In the middling case, partial compliance delivers temporary relief but risks collapse. In the worst case, rejection leads to more death, devastation, and radicalization. The choice before Hamas, Israel, and international mediators is not simply between war and peace, but between fragile openings, temporary pauses, or outright catastrophe. What happens next will shape not only Gaza and Israel, but also American politics, regional stability, and the moral imagination of the twenty-first century.


Footnotes

  1. Pew Research Center, “How Americans view Israel and the Israel-Hamas War at the Start of Trump’s Second Term,” April 2025.
  2. Gallup, “Less than Half of Americans Sympathetic Toward Israelis,” July 2025.
  3. AP-NORC / PBS, “More Americans Feel Israel Has Gone Too Far in Gaza,” 2025.
  4. Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), “Why Hamas Attacked When It Did,” 2023.
  5. Amnesty International, “Israel’s Apartheid Against Palestinians: Cruel System of Domination,” 2022.
  6. International Court of Justice, “Advisory Opinion on the Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory,” 2004; reaffirmed in subsequent proceedings.
  7. Cambridge University Press, Israel Law Review: “Hamas October 7th Genocide? Legal Analysis and the Weaponisation of Reverse Accusations,” 2024.


Antifa, Funding Issues, and the Psychology of Crowd Violence

A collaboration between Lewis McLain & AI

Introduction

The word “Antifa” has become one of the most polarizing terms in American politics. For some, it calls to mind images of masked demonstrators confronting police or smashing windows. For others, it represents grassroots resistance to racism and authoritarianism – or the perception of them. Making sense of Antifa requires more than soundbites. We must sift historical facts from rumors, distinguish lawful dissent from criminal acts, and weigh psychology alongside law. Above all, as Christian conservatives, we must seek truth, reject hysteria, and offer a constructive path forward that upholds both justice and peace.


What Fascism Is — and Why Comparisons Matter

To understand Antifa’s self-description, we must first clarify what fascism means. A standard dictionary definition describes fascism as “a political philosophy, movement, or regime that exalts nation and often race above the individual, with a centralized autocratic government headed by a dictatorial leader, severe economic and social regimentation, and forcible suppression of opposition.”

Historically, fascism referred to the regimes of Benito Mussolini in Italy and Adolf Hitler in Germany, both of which combined dictatorship, militarism, racism, and brutal suppression of dissent. It is essential to emphasize that America today is not Nazi Germany. However divided our politics, we continue to function under constitutional law, contested elections, and protected civil liberties. Modern Antifa rhetoric often invokes “fascism” as if it were at the doorstep, but this comparison is disproportionate. Real fascism was a genocidal system, not the messy disagreements of a pluralistic democracy.


What Fascists and Nazis Actually Did in the 1930s

When modern groups invoke the language of “fascism,” we must remember what it actually meant in the 1930s. The brutality was not rhetorical, not symbolic — it was physical, bloody, and state-organized.

Nazi Germany

  • Opening of Dachau (1933): Within weeks of seizing power, the Nazis established Dachau, the first concentration camp. Communists, Social Democrats, and union leaders were dragged off the streets, beaten with rifle butts, lashed until skin tore, and thrown into barracks with little food. Many prisoners were executed or worked to death. Torture was routine: prisoners hung by their wrists until shoulders dislocated, starved until skeletal, or shot during “escape attempts” staged by guards.
  • The Night of the Long Knives (June 30–July 2, 1934): Hitler unleashed the SS against his rivals, especially leaders of the SA stormtroopers. Men were dragged from their beds in the night, pistol-whipped, and shot at close range. Some were stabbed repeatedly with bayonets before being dumped in shallow graves. Estimates of the dead range from 85 to over 400. Blood soaked the floor of Gestapo headquarters in Berlin. Hitler had ordered it personally, and it showed the German people that dissent could be answered with murder.
  • Kristallnacht (November 9–10, 1938): This pogrom was a nationwide orgy of violence against Jews. Synagogues burned with Torah scrolls thrown into the flames. Jewish shopkeepers were clubbed unconscious in front of their shattered storefronts; children were beaten with fists and boots in the streets. At least 100 were killed outright in the chaos. Thousands more were rounded up, battered with rifle butts, and shipped to camps like Dachau and Buchenwald, where many perished from beatings, exposure, or starvation. Broken glass glittered across Germany — not just from windows but from the teeth of victims smashed against the pavement.
  • Sterilizations and Killings of the Disabled (1933–1939): Under the “Law for the Prevention of Hereditarily Diseased Offspring,” over 300,000 Germans were forcibly sterilized. The operations were often botched, leaving women torn and bleeding or men maimed and in chronic pain. By 1939, the Nazis escalated into the T4 “euthanasia” program, luring parents to hand over disabled children “for care.” Instead, they were strapped to gurneys and given lethal injections, or starved until they died in agony. Witnesses reported piles of tiny corpses waiting for cremation. Adults with disabilities were herded into sealed rooms and gassed with carbon monoxide — the test runs for the death camps to come.

Fascist Italy

  • Blackshirt Violence: Mussolini’s paramilitary “squadristi” terrorized opponents throughout the 1920s and into the 1930s. Their signature humiliation was forcing enemies to drink castor oil mixed with gasoline — inducing vomiting, diarrhea, internal bleeding, and sometimes death. Opponents were stripped, beaten with truncheons until bones cracked, and left crippled in ditches.
  • Assassination of Giacomo Matteotti (1924, still emblematic in the 1930s): Matteotti, a socialist MP, was kidnapped, stabbed multiple times with daggers, and left in a shallow grave for daring to denounce fascist violence. His murder warned every Italian that opposition could be met with knives and silence.
  • Colonial Atrocities in Ethiopia (1935–1936): Fascist Italy’s invasion brought barbarity to Africa. Italian planes dropped mustard gas on soldiers and civilians alike. Victims stumbled blind and blistered, skin sloughing off, lungs burning until they drowned in their own blood. Priests were shot for preaching resistance. Entire villages were machine-gunned. Ethiopian resistance fighters were captured, beaten, and hanged in public squares as warnings. Tens of thousands died under chemical clouds and fascist bullets.

Why This Matters

By the end of the 1930s, before the Second World War fully erupted, fascism had already left a trail of maiming, sterilization, torture, and outright mass murder. This was not merely heated rhetoric or “culture war.” It was broken bodies, charred synagogues, and children starved to death in hospitals.

That history underscores why comparisons today must be careful. However divided our politics, America in the 2020s is not Germany or Italy in the 1930s. When Christians and conservatives hear the word “fascism” hurled about, we must remember what it really meant: not simply political disagreement, but a system of organized, state-directed brutality that bathed whole nations in blood.


Historical Roots of Antifa

The term Antifa traces to interwar Germany. In 1932, the Communist Party launched Antifaschistische Aktion, with its now-famous twin-flag emblem. Around the same time, the Social Democratic coalition known as the Iron Front popularized the Three Arrows symbol, designed to overpaint swastikas in public spaces. Both movements were born in a desperate climate: the Weimar Republic was collapsing, and Nazi power was rising fast.

Modern activists adopt these symbols to claim continuity with that resistance. Yet the comparison is strained. Antifa of the 1930s fought fascism seizing state power; today’s Antifa is a marginal protest current within a functioning democracy. The symbolism is potent, but the contexts are not equivalent.


What Antifa Is Today

Contemporary Antifa in the United States is not a centralized organization but a loose network of activists and affinity groups. There is no national leadership, no membership rolls, and no dues. Small collectives in various cities operate independently, sometimes sharing tactics but rarely coordinating beyond local networks.

Antifa is also reactive, not proactive. Its activity spikes in moments of confrontation. Sometimes this means mobilizing far-right (real or perceived) groups that attempt rallies or demonstrations. However, just as often in recent years, Antifa has directed its energy toward law enforcement agencies as they carry out their duties. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) facilities have been frequent targets, with protesters hurling objects at officers or vandalizing property under the banner of opposing “fascism.” Unfortunately, the “resistance” has escalated to shootings at ICE officials. Police departments in cities like Portland have faced recurring clashes, as Antifa-affiliated demonstrators portray officers as instruments of authoritarian repression. In these settings, the men and women attacked were not extremists but sworn officers enforcing democratically enacted laws.

Some Antifa activists focus on research and exposure of extremist networks; others on mutual aid or community defense. A smaller subset embraces direct confrontation, which can escalate into vandalism, assaults, or clashes with police. For conservatives, the key is not to overstate Antifa’s size or permanence—it is not an underground army. But it is equally important not to understate its disruptions or the fact that many of its battles are now with the very agencies tasked with keeping civic order.


Mob Mentality and Crowd Psychology

Crowd psychology explains why protests sometimes spiral out of control.

When individuals mask their faces and merge into a bloc, they experience deindividuation, lowering inhibitions and accountability. Emotions spread quickly through crowds; emotional contagion turns fear into panic and anger into rage. Groups often become more extreme than their average member, a phenomenon called group polarization.

This is not unique to Antifa. The same dynamics are visible in right-wing rallies, sports riots, or even church history when mobs gathered in anger. But in Antifa’s case, these dynamics reinforce a confrontational image: groups that see themselves as defensive often look aggressive once mob psychology takes hold. The line between legal protests and illegal brutality is razor thin.


Rumors of Funding and Paid Agitators

One of the most persistent claims is that Antifa is secretly bankrolled by billionaires, most often George Soros. Fact-checkers consistently find no evidence of Soros—or his Open Society Foundations (OSF)—directly funding Antifa groups or paying masked demonstrators. No checks to “Antifa” exist in the public record.

But critics rightly frame the suspicion differently: “It is not Soros directly, but his nonprofits.” This is the logical pathway if such funding were to exist—through NGOs and nonprofit grant networks. OSF is among the largest in the world, distributing billions to civil-society organizations that support democracy, minority rights, bail funds, and advocacy. These grants are transparent and traceable. But once money flows into NGOs, subgrants, or affiliated nonprofits, it becomes more difficult to track how funds are used locally.

This is why congressional inquiries and watchdog groups sometimes investigate: to test whether nonprofit dollars intended for civil-rights work might be diverted to militant activity. So far, documentation shows adjacency, not intent—support for nonprofits that operate in the same ecosystem as protest movements, but no proof of deliberate financing of Antifa violence.

The rumor persists because it is plausible in theory and because real-world practices—like bail funds, mutual aid networks, and protest logistics—often do receive nonprofit money. But proximity is not proof. Without intent and direction, suspicion remains speculation, even though evidence may be forthcoming as investigations continue. The most accurate statement today is this: Soros’s foundations fund civil-society organizations, not masked street fighters directly. Again, investigators continue to test whether NGO pathways could ever blur that line.


Documented Cases of Gear Distribution

While grand funding conspiracies remain unproven, there are documented cases of organized gear distribution.

In Los Angeles, June 2025, television cameras filmed a pickup truck unloading boxes of “Bionic Shield” face shields to protesters. Federal prosecutors indicted Alejandro Orellana, alleging he conspired to aid and abet civil disorder by distributing equipment after an unlawful assembly was declared. Defense lawyers countered that the gear was protective, not offensive. Local news footage confirmed masked individuals handing out riot shields and gas masks, while national outlets like Newsweek and New York Post reported the same incident.

These events prove that gear drops do occur and sometimes lead to charges under civil disorder laws. But they remain localized and small-scale. They do not prove a vast, centrally funded operation. They illustrate how local actors can escalate protest dynamics, sometimes blurring lawful protection with unlawful facilitation of unrest.


What the Law Says

American law distinguishes between lawful support and criminal incitement.

The Anti-Riot Act (18 U.S.C. §2101) makes it a crime to use interstate travel or facilities with intent to incite or promote a riot. The Civil Disorder statute (18 U.S.C. §231) penalizes acts that interfere with law enforcement during unrest. Conspiracy and aiding-and-abetting charges apply when someone provides gear or funding with intent to support violence.

The dividing line is intent. Providing food, water, or legal aid is lawful. Providing protective gear is gray, depending on timing and purpose. Paying people to commit violence is clearly illegal. Prosecutors must prove intent, not mere association. That distinction is central to a Christian-conservative view of justice: fairness requires evidence, not guilt by rumor.


Where This Leads

The trajectory of Antifa is not toward permanent institutions but diffusion. Its brand may fade, while its tactics—counter-mobilizations, black bloc, research collectives—are absorbed into broader activist culture. Violent flare-ups will recur when extremist groups mobilize, because Antifa is reactive. Rumors of billionaire funding will persist because they are politically useful and superficially plausible. But the enduring challenge is mob mentality, which can transform protests—left or right—into destructive crowds.


A Christian-Conservative Response

For Christians and conservatives, a balanced response requires moral clarity and careful restraint.

We must insist on truth over rumor. Repeating unproven funding myths undermines credibility. We must support and uphold the rule of law: prosecuting crimes firmly, but not criminalizing dissent. We must care for communities harmed by violence, providing aid and pastoral care. We must strengthen civic institutions, so extremism finds less fertile ground. And we must model discernment and peace. The Apostle Paul told us to “test everything; hold fast what is good” (1 Thess. 5:21). In a culture awash with rumor, that admonition is urgently needed.


Conclusion

Antifa is not a monolithic army but a loose collection of activists and tactics. Its roots lie in the desperate resistance to 1930s fascism, but America today is not Nazi Germany. Rumors of billionaire funding circulate widely, and while NGOs are the logical pathway for covert financing, the evidence so far suggests proximity, rather than proof. Proof could be forthcoming as investigations continue. Documented cases—such as the Los Angeles gear drop—demonstrate a real escalation but remain local and situational.

The Christian-conservative response must be balanced: uphold law with fairness, refuse exaggeration, care for the wounded, and protect civil society. We should not minimize the harm Antifa can cause, nor should we inflate it into a phantom army. Instead, we must respond with truth, order, compassion, and faith in Christ, who remains the Prince of Peace.