Month: August 2026

Government Moves to Crack Down on a Popular Vice
New Restrictions Aim to Protect Families From Addiction
Critics Warn Ban Will Create a Black Market
Illegal Networks Expand as Demand Remains High
Organized Crime Profits From Prohibited Trade
Americans Debate Whether the Ban Is Doing More Harm Than Good

Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? You could easily imagine those headlines appearing today. But they didn’t.

They were America in 1920.

And the vice was alcohol.

At the time, the argument seemed simple enough. Alcohol was destroying families. Men were drinking away their wages. Domestic violence was real. Poverty was real. Children were suffering. So America decided to do something dramatic. We banned it. Not just regulated it. Not just taxed it. We changed the Constitution.

And for a while, it looked like maybe it was working. Drinking went down. Public drunkenness declined. Then something else happened. People still wanted alcohol. And that turned out to matter more than anyone expected. If someone wants something badly enough, and the law says they can’t have it, someone else will eventually figure out how to sell it to them.

So the saloons disappeared. Speakeasies took their place. Bootleggers moved in. Organized crime found a gold mine. Al Capone didn’t invent the desire to drink. He simply learned how profitable that desire could become once the government made it illegal. That is the part of Prohibition that fascinates me. The law changed overnight. The human heart didn’t. And once you see that, the story suddenly feels much more current.

Today the vice may be gambling. You don’t have to drive to Las Vegas anymore. You don’t even have to leave your couch. The casino is in your pocket. A few taps on a phone and you can bet on the next touchdown, the next basket, even the next pitch. For many people, it’s entertainment. For others, it becomes something very different.

Debt. Secrecy. Addiction. A spouse who doesn’t know how much has been lost. A family wondering where the money went. So once again we start asking the same questions. Should we restrict it? Should we ban certain kinds of betting? Should advertising be limited? Should the government make it harder for people to gamble?

I think some of those restrictions may be wise. Laws can protect people. They can create boundaries. They can make destructive behavior harder. But Prohibition reminds us that there is a limit to what any law can accomplish. Because eventually the problem moves somewhere government cannot reach. Inside us.

Jesus said:

For from within, out of the heart of man, come evil thoughts…
Mark 7:21 (ESV)

From within. That’s uncomfortable. I’d much rather believe the problem is out there. The liquor bottle. The betting app. The casino. The website. Remove those things and maybe the problem goes away. Except it doesn’t. Because I can remove the object and still want it. I can obey the rule and still resent it. I can look perfectly respectable on the outside while greed, pride, envy, lust, anger, or selfishness are doing just fine inside me. That was the problem Prohibition could never solve. It could close the bar. It couldn’t remove the thirst. And maybe that is where history keeps repeating itself. We keep trying to solve heart problems from the outside.

Sometimes we should. Society needs laws. Children need protection. Predatory businesses need limits. But if we think enough rules will make us good, history keeps proving otherwise. Prohibition could close the bar. It could arrest the bootlegger. It could confiscate the bottle. But it could not reach the place where the desire began.

That is still true. We need good laws. We need wise restraints. We need to protect people from those who profit from addiction and weakness. But sooner or later, every society discovers that there are some battles legislation cannot win for us. Jesus went directly to the heart because He knew that was where the real battle was being fought.

And that is where mine is being fought too.

Love and trust the Lord; seek His will in your life.

#faith #trustinggod #christianity #jesuschrist #bible #seekinggodswill #truth #sanctification #godisincontrol #godhearsourprayers #salvation #providenceofGod #vices #Mark7:21

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What if every time I sinned, a warning light came on? Not later, after the damage was done. Right then. I lose my temper. Warning light. I hold onto resentment. Warning light. I say something I know I should not say. Warning light. I justify something I know is wrong. Warning light.

Would I live differently? I think I would. The truth is, we often do see what sin does. We see broken trust. We see damaged relationships. We feel guilt. We sometimes live with consequences for years. But what we do not usually get is an immediate, unmistakable spiritual alert. Something that says: Stop. You are going in the wrong direction.

That is what makes Ezekiel’s vision so disturbing to me. In Ezekiel 10, he watches the glory of the Lord leave the temple. Then in Ezekiel 11:22–23, the glory moves out from the city and stands over the mountain east of Jerusalem. Imagine seeing that. The temple is still there. Jerusalem is still there. People are still going about their lives. The religious system is still functioning. But Ezekiel sees what almost no one else can see. God’s glory is departing.

And the glory of the LORD went up from the midst of the city and stood on the mountain that is on the east side of the city.
Ezekiel 11:23 (ESV)

I find the progression especially haunting. It does not simply disappear in one instant. Ezekiel sees the glory at the threshold of the temple, then at the east gate, and finally outside the city. He is watching the consequences of Israel’s rebellion unfold in front of him. Everyone else can still see the temple. Ezekiel can see what is happening spiritually. In a sense, Ezekiel had the warning light.

That is what made me wonder: what if I had one? What if every time I chose bitterness, pride, dishonesty, lust, envy, selfishness, or unforgiveness, there was some unmistakable signal that told me, right now, what I was doing? Would I still dismiss it? Would I still tell myself it was not that serious? Would I still say, “I’ll deal with it later”? I hope not.

Now, there is an important distinction here. Ezekiel’s vision is not a picture of a Christian losing salvation every time he sins. The New Testament does not teach that the Holy Spirit abandons believers whenever they fail. Our salvation rests in Christ.

But Scripture does tell Christians something sobering:

And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God.
Ephesians 4:30 (ESV)

Paul also writes:

Do not quench the Spirit.
1 Thessalonians 5:19 (ESV)

That means sin matters in our fellowship with God. We can resist conviction. We can become less sensitive. We can keep saying no. And eventually something that once bothered us may not bother us very much anymore. That may be the part that concerns me most. The first time we cross a line, we know it. Our conscience bothers us. We feel that inner resistance. But then we do it again. And again. After a while, what once felt wrong starts to feel familiar. We adjust. Maybe that is one of the real dangers of sin. Not just that we do something wrong, but that we can become comfortable doing it.

That brings me back to Ezekiel. The people still had the temple. They still had the outward signs of religion. They could still tell themselves that everything was fine. But Ezekiel saw that it was not fine.

That makes me wonder how often we do something similar. We still go to church. We still pray. We still know Scripture. We still call ourselves Christians. But there may be something in our lives that God has been warning us about for a long time. A resentment we refuse to release. An attitude we defend. A habit we excuse. A compromise we keep telling ourselves is small. Maybe the warning light did come on. Maybe we just got tired of looking at it. 

That is not so different from what we do with a car. A dashboard light comes on and, at first, it gets our attention. Then the car keeps running. A week passes. Nothing happens. So we ignore it. After a while, we barely notice the light anymore. But the fact that we stopped noticing does not mean the problem went away. I wonder if we sometimes do the same thing spiritually. God convicts us. We explain it away. Scripture confronts us. We find a reason why it does not really apply. Someone says something we need to hear. We become defensive. Eventually, the warning becomes easier to ignore.

But here is the encouraging part. Conviction is not God pushing us away. It is often God calling us back. His warnings are acts of mercy. When God shows us something in our lives that needs to change, the answer is not despair. The answer is repentance. Confession. Turning around. Coming back to Him. Grace does not mean sin is unimportant. Grace means we do not have to keep running in the wrong direction.

So maybe the question is not simply: What if sin came with a warning light? Maybe the harder question is: What if the warning light is already on? Is there something I know God has been putting His finger on? Something I keep excusing? Something that used to trouble me more than it does now?

Ezekiel saw what everyone else could not. We may never see the glory of God physically moving out of a temple. But God has given us His Word. He has given us conviction. He has given us the Holy Spirit. Maybe the warning system is already there. The question is whether we are still paying attention.

What warning have I been ignoring?

Love and trust the Lord; seek His will in your life.

#faith #trustinggod #christianity #jesuschrist #bible #seekinggodswill #truth #sanctification #godisincontrol #godhearsourprayers #salvation #providenceofGod #warninglightforsin #Ezekiel11:23

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For you always have the poor with you, but you will not always have me.
Matthew 26:11 (ESV)

I have always had difficulty with this verse. At first, Jesus’ words can sound almost dismissive. Was He saying that poverty is simply a permanent part of life and there is little point in trying to change it? Was He suggesting that helping the poor was somehow less important than an extravagant act of worship? That does not sound like the Jesus we encounter throughout the Gospels. He fed the hungry, welcomed the outcast, healed the sick, and repeatedly taught His followers to care for those in need. So what did He mean?

The setting is important. Jesus was in Bethany, in the home of Simon the leper, when a woman approached Him with an alabaster flask of very expensive ointment and poured it over His head. The disciples were upset. To them, it seemed wasteful. The ointment could have been sold and the money given to the poor. Their objection sounds reasonable. Perhaps I would have thought the same thing. Why use something so valuable in a single moment when the money could have helped many people?

But Jesus saw what the disciples did not. He knew that His death was near, and He understood the meaning of the woman’s act even if she did not fully understand it herself. She was preparing His body for burial. There would never be another opportunity quite like this one.

When Jesus said, “The poor you will always have with you,” He was not saying that the poor did not matter. He was saying that His physical presence among them would soon come to an end. The disciples would have many future opportunities to help those in need, but this woman’s opportunity to honor Him before His death would never come again.

There is another part of His statement that is easy to miss. Jesus appears to be drawing from Deuteronomy:

For there will never cease to be poor in the land. Therefore I command you, ‘You shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor, in your land.
Deuteronomy 15:11 (ESV)

That changes the way I hear His words. The passage does not say, “The poor will always exist, so there is nothing you can do.” It says that because there will always be people in need, God’s people must always be ready to help them. The persistence of poverty is not an excuse for indifference. It is the reason generosity must remain a continuing responsibility.

There is also something uncomfortable about the disciples’ response. Their criticism sounded morally admirable, but John tells us that Judas was not truly concerned about the poor. He kept the moneybag and had been stealing from it. His apparently righteous argument concealed a very different motive.

That should cause all of us to pause. It is possible to use a worthy cause to criticize someone else while avoiding an honest examination of our own hearts. We may question how another person gives, serves, worships, or uses what belongs to them, while never asking what we ourselves are doing with what God has entrusted to us.

Jesus was not placing devotion to Him in opposition to concern for the poor. We are not asked to choose between worship and compassion. Genuine love for Christ should make us more generous, not less. If our worship never moves us toward those who are suffering, something is missing. Yet if our concern for good causes leaves little room for Christ Himself, something is missing there as well.

The woman in Bethany recognized the importance of the moment before her. The disciples saw an expense that could be calculated. She saw Jesus. I wonder how often I miss what God has placed directly in front of me because I am thinking about what might be done somewhere else. It is easy to speak about poverty in the abstract. It is harder to open my hand to a particular person. It is easy to talk about loving people. It is harder to make the phone call, give the money, offer forgiveness, or interrupt my schedule when someone needs me.

None of us can solve all the suffering in the world. The scale of the need can become so overwhelming that we may be tempted to do nothing. But Jesus does not ask us to solve everything. He asks us to remain faithful with the people, resources, and opportunities He has placed before us.

Some opportunities will come again. Others will not. The woman could not prevent the cross, but she could honor Jesus while He was still with her. She gave what she had when she had the opportunity, and Jesus called it a beautiful thing.

So perhaps the question is not simply, “Why will there always be poor people?” Perhaps the more personal question is, “Since there are people in need around me, is my hand open or closed?”

Jesus did not use the continuing existence of poverty to excuse our inaction. He reminded His disciples that opportunities to care for the poor would always be present. At the same time, He taught them not to miss the sacred opportunity standing directly before them.

The needs of the world will always be greater than anything I can meet by myself. But that does not relieve me of the responsibility to respond to the need I can meet. I may not be able to change the whole world, but I can allow Christ to change the way I see—and serve—the person standing in front of me.

Love and trust in the Lord; seek His will in your life.

#faith #trustinggod #christianity #jesuschrist #bible #seekinggodswill #truth #sanctification #godisincontrol #godhearsourprayers #salvation #providenceofGod #poverty #thepoor #Matthew26:11

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Walk through a grocery store today and you will find more than food. You will find competing versions of the truth. One label promises “plant-based.” Another says “keto-friendly.” Some experts warn us about carbohydrates. Others warn us about meat. We are told to avoid gluten, seed oils, dairy products, artificial sweeteners, lectins, or anything our grandparents would not recognize. Perhaps some of these warnings are correct. But nearly everyone sounds certain.

We have heard that certainty before. In 1992, the United States government introduced the Food Guide Pyramid. At its broad base were bread, cereal, rice, and pasta. Americans were encouraged to eat six to eleven servings every day. At the narrow top were fats, oils, and sweets. Use sparingly. The message was difficult to miss. Carbohydrates formed the foundation of a healthy diet. Fat was something to avoid.

Food manufacturers quickly adjusted. Supermarket shelves filled with products labeled “low fat” and “fat free.” Butter gave way to margarine. Eggs were replaced by breakfast cereal. Fat was removed from yogurt, salad dressing, cookies, and frozen meals. Many people believed they were making healthier choices. Why wouldn’t they? They were following the standards. But those standards changed.

Removing fat did not necessarily make food healthy. In many products, fat was replaced by added sugar or refined carbohydrates. Some margarines and processed foods contained partially hydrogenated oils, a major source of artificial trans fats. The healthier alternative was not always healthier.

Eventually, artificial trans fats were recognized as particularly harmful. The Food Guide Pyramid was replaced. Margarine was reformulated. Eggs were reconsidered. Nutrition advice became more nuanced. The old standard quietly disappeared. Then a new standard took its place. That is what standards do. They change.

We see the same pattern today. Fat was once the enemy. Now carbohydrates may be the enemy. Margarine once replaced butter. Now butter has returned to many kitchens. Eggs moved from breakfast staple to cholesterol threat and then back toward acceptance. Foods once presented as healthy are questioned, while foods once discouraged are reconsidered. The recommended foods change. The certainty does not.

As a physician, I understand why medical and nutritional recommendations change. New evidence becomes available. Better studies are performed. Old assumptions are challenged. Changing a recommendation when the evidence changes is not necessarily a failure. It may be exactly what responsible science should do.

The problem begins when we forget what a standard is. A standard represents our best understanding at a particular moment. It may be useful. It may be supported by strong evidence. It may deserve to be followed. But it is not absolute truth. We routinely confuse the two.

We take what is provisional and treat it as permanent. We take what is still being studied and speak of it as settled. We turn developing evidence into a slogan: Fat is bad. Carbohydrates are bad. Meat is bad. Seed oils are bad. Then we build our lives around it. We buy the products. We follow the influencers. We defend the diet. We look suspiciously at anyone who eats differently.

Food becomes more than nourishment. It becomes an identity. And sometimes it becomes a form of righteousness. If I eat correctly, I am disciplined and enlightened. If you eat differently, you must be ignorant, careless, or deceived. What began as a health recommendation becomes a moral standard. The rules change, but our desire to judge one another remains.

There may be something even deeper beneath it. We want certainty. If I can identify the dangerous food, eliminate the harmful ingredient, and follow the right program, perhaps I can protect myself from disease. Perhaps I can slow aging. Perhaps I can keep death at a safe distance. We want a standard that will not move. But we keep looking for it in places where everything moves.

Scientific conclusions change. Medical recommendations change. Governments change. Cultural values change. What society celebrates today may be condemned tomorrow. What once appeared unquestionable may eventually be abandoned without explanation. If our lives are built entirely upon changing human standards, what happens when the standard changes again?

Scripture tells us:

Test everything; hold fast what is good.
1 Thessalonians 5:21 (ESV)

God does not ask us to abandon reason. He does not tell us to reject evidence or ignore those who have studied a subject more carefully than we have. He tells us to test what we hear. That means we should approach human claims with both respect and humility. We should recognize that experts may know more than we do while remembering that experts are still human. We should be willing to learn, and we should be willing to change our minds. But we should never give changing human standards the authority that belongs only to God.

Jesus said:

Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.
Matthew 24:35 (ESV)

There is the difference. The Food Guide Pyramid passed away. Today’s nutritional standards will eventually be revised. Our culture’s moral standards are already changing before our eyes. But the Word of God does not wait for the next study, election, court decision, or cultural movement. God’s truth does not become outdated because people no longer accept it. It does not become false because another standard becomes fashionable.

Truth is not determined by how confidently we speak. It is not determined by how many people agree. It is not determined by what is printed on a government chart or repeated across social media. Absolute truth belongs to the One who does not change.

Food matters. We should care for our bodies. We should listen carefully, examine the evidence, and make wise decisions. But the history of nutritional advice should remind us how quickly human certainty can be revised. Yesterday’s standard becomes today’s mistake. Today’s certainty becomes tomorrow’s question.

So perhaps this story is not really about butter, margarine, eggs, or carbohydrates. It is about where we look for truth. When every human standard can change, what are we trusting that never will?

Love and trust in the Lord; seek His will in your life.

#faith #trustinggod #christianity #jesuschrist #bible #seekinggodswill #truth #sanctification #godisincontrol #godhearsourprayers #salvation #providenceofGod #whichfoodpyramid #Matthew24:35

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WORLD-RENOWNED ASTRONOMER CONFIRMS EXTRAORDINARY FINDINGS
IMAGES REVEAL FORESTS, ANIMALS—AND WINGED HUMANOIDS

The story was almost impossible to ignore. A respected astronomer, working from an observatory in South Africa, had reportedly made one of the greatest discoveries in history. Using the most powerful telescope ever built, he had seen forests, lakes, enormous crystals, and strange animals on the moon. There were blue-colored goats, miniature reindeer, and beavers that walked upright.

Then came the most astonishing report of all. Humanlike creatures had been seen on the moon. They stood about four feet tall. They had wings. They lived in communities and appeared to have constructed buildings and temples.

The reports sounded credible. They were attributed to one of the world’s leading astronomers and supposedly came from a scientific journal. The descriptions were detailed. The illustrations were convincing. Other publications repeated the claims. Thousands believed what they were reading. After all, it was in the newspaper. The more sensational the story became, the more newspapers were sold. Readers eagerly waited for the next installment.

It sounds like something from our age of viral headlines, manipulated images, and fake news.

But this is not 2026.

It is 1835.

The newspaper was the New York Sun. The astronomer was Sir John Herschel. He really was studying the skies from South Africa, but he had discovered none of these things. The forests were imaginary. The animals were imaginary. The winged people were imaginary. 

It was fake news. And America could not stop reading it. The articles became known as the Great Moon Hoax. There was no social media, artificial intelligence, or algorithm pushing the story into people’s lives. But human nature was the same.

We are quick to believe stories that frighten us, anger us, or confirm what we already think. If a headline supports our politics or makes the other side look foolish, we may share it before asking whether it is true. Sometimes we do not want to know whether it is true. We just want it to be true.

The Bible warned us about this long before newspapers or social media:

The one who states his case first seems right, until the other comes and examines him.
Proverbs 18:17 (ESV)

Christians should be among the most careful people in the world about truth. We follow the One who said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.”

But that raises a question we should not be afraid to ask: How do Christians know that what we believe is not also fake news? Sincerity does not make something true. Strong feelings do not make something true. Even millions of people believing something does not make it true. Christianity makes claims about events that happened in history—above all, that Jesus Christ was crucified and rose from the dead.

Paul placed the entire Christian faith on whether that claim was actually true:

And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile.
1 Corinthians 15:17 (ESV)

Christianity does not ask us to protect our faith from examination. The Bereans were praised because they listened to Paul and then examined the Scriptures “to see if these things were so.” They were open, but they were not gullible. That should describe us as well.

We should examine what we believe, ask honest questions, and follow the evidence. Truth does not become less true when it is investigated. And we should apply that same commitment to everything we read and share. Bearing false witness does not become acceptable because the falsehood supports our side. A lie does not become truth because it advances a cause we believe is good.

Before sharing the next sensational story, perhaps we should ask: Did I examine the evidence? Would I apply the same standard if this challenged what I already believe? Am I seeking the truth—or merely looking for confirmation?

In 1835, Americans looked toward the moon and saw exactly what a newspaper told them was there. The question is not merely whether we can recognize someone else’s fake news. The harder question is whether we are willing to examine the stories we already believe.

Do we really want the truth—wherever it leads?

Love and trust in the Lord; seek His will in your life.

#faith #trustinggod #christianity #jesuschrist #bible #seekinggodswill #truth #sanctification #godisincontrol #godhearsourprayers #salvation #providenceofGod #fakenews #Proverbs18:17

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Someone says something stupid. Maybe it is caught on video. Maybe someone finds an old post. Maybe what was said really was offensive. Then people start piling on. The comments come first. Then someone finds out where the person works. Someone contacts the employer. Before long, people are demanding that something be done.

Sometimes something should be done. People should be held accountable for what they say and do. But I wonder about something else. Why do we enjoy watching it so much? We tend to think this is something social media created. It isn’t.

Go back to seventeenth-century New England. In Puritan communities, punishment was often intentionally public. Someone might be put in the stocks or the pillory right in the middle of town. Everyone knew. Everyone could see. People could stop and stare. They could ridicule the person. Sometimes they threw things. Being embarrassed in front of your neighbors was part of the punishment. Nathaniel Hawthorne later captured this idea in *The Scarlet Letter*. Hester Prynne was forced to stand before her community carrying a visible mark of her sin. Hester was fictional. Public shame wasn’t.

Jump ahead about three hundred years and the setting had changed completely. Now it was Hollywood. During the Communist scares of the late 1940s and 1950s, actors, screenwriters, directors, and others were questioned about their political beliefs and associations. Some were asked to identify other people. Those who refused could find themselves unable to work. The Hollywood Ten became famous for it, but they were hardly the only ones affected. Careers were ruined. People worked under false names. Some left the country.

Even knowing the wrong person could become a problem. Obviously, these are not identical situations. A Puritan town square is not Hollywood in the 1950s, and neither is it the same as someone being attacked on social media today. But I keep coming back to the same thing. There seems to be something in us that wants to identify the person who crossed the line and then watch what happens to them.

Today we don’t need stocks. We don’t need a blacklist. We have screenshots. We have social media. We can find someone’s employer in a few minutes. And thousands of people who have never met that person can join in. From home.

That is the part that bothers me. Not accountability. The enjoyment. There is a difference between saying, “What this person did was wrong,” and taking pleasure in watching that person’s life fall apart. I’m not sure we always notice when we cross that line.

The Bible does.

Do not rejoice when your enemy falls, and let not your heart be glad when he stumbles.
Proverbs 24:17 (ESV)

That verse doesn’t tell us to ignore wrongdoing. It tells us to look at our own heart while someone else is being judged. Do I want justice? Or do I want to watch someone suffer? Those are not always the same thing. Maybe cancel culture isn’t nearly as new as we think. Maybe we just built a much bigger town square. The stocks are gone.

But the crowd never really left.

Now we carry it around in our pocket.

Love and trust the Lord; seek His will in your life.

#faith #trustinggod #christianity #jesuschrist #bible #seekinggodswill #truth #sanctification #godisincontrol #godhearsourprayers #salvation #providenceofGod #cancelculture #Proverbs24:17

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Workers are worried. A new technology is changing the way people make a living. Employers are discovering that machines can do work that once required skilled hands. People who spent years learning a trade are beginning to wonder whether those skills will still matter. Some business owners see opportunity. Production can increase. Costs can fall. More can be made with fewer workers. The workers see it differently. They wonder whether they will still have a job. They wonder how they will support their families. They wonder whether the skill that once gave them security is about to become obsolete. Others tell them not to worry. Technology always changes things. New jobs will come. Progress cannot be stopped.

Maybe. But that does not answer the question facing the man whose work is disappearing right now.

What happens to me?

This sounds very familiar. But this is not 2026.

It is 1811.

In Nottinghamshire, England, textile workers were watching their world change. Many were skilled craftsmen. They had spent years learning their trade. Their work supported their families and gave them a place in the economy around them. Then, machinery began changing the way textiles were produced. Manufacturers could produce goods more quickly and, in some cases, with less-skilled and lower-paid labor. For the manufacturer, this looked like progress. For the worker, it could look like the end of everything he knew. We remember some of those workers today by a familiar name.

The Luddites.

Today, calling someone a Luddite usually means that he is afraid of technology or refuse to accept change. That is not quite fair to the people who actually lived through it. Many Luddites understood the machines very well. Their anger was not simply directed at technology itself. They were reacting to the way new machinery was being used to lower wages, eliminate skilled work, and change a system that had once allowed them to earn a living from their craft. Some responded violently. Machines were destroyed. Factories were attacked. The British government responded harshly, and some of those involved were executed.

I am not defending what they did. But it is worth understanding why they did it. Imagine spending much of your life learning something. You become good at it. Your family depends upon it. Then someone develops a machine that allows another person to produce the same thing faster and more cheaply. You are suddenly told that the skill you spent years developing is not worth nearly as much as it used to be. It is easy for us to look backward and say that the Industrial Revolution was inevitable. Of course it was. Machines became better. Factories grew. Production increased. New industries arose. Society changed. Few of us would want to return to the economy of 1811. But history looks very different when you are the one being displaced by it. We know how the Industrial Revolution turned out. The Luddites did not. They were standing in the middle of it. And that is what makes their story so relevant today.

Artificial intelligence is beginning to enter jobs that many of us never thought machines would touch. For years, automation mostly seemed like something that happened in factories. A machine might assemble a car. A robot might move something in a warehouse. A computer might perform repetitive calculations. But now machines are doing things we associate with human thought. They can write. They can translate. They can create images. They can analyze data. They can generate computer code. They can summarize documents. They can compose music. They can perform tasks that once seemed to require judgment, creativity, and knowledge.

So the same question is returning. What happens when a machine can do your job? For some people, that question is still theoretical. For others, it is already becoming very real. Writers wonder what happens when software can generate an article in seconds. Programmers wonder what happens when AI can write code. Artists wonder what happens when anyone can generate an image with a few words. Accountants, attorneys, teachers, physicians, analysts, musicians, and office workers are all beginning to ask some version of the same question. Will this help me do my job? Or will it eventually replace me?

I do not know exactly how that will turn out. Neither does anyone else. History gives us reason to believe that new technology will create new opportunities. It usually does. But history also tells us that the transition can be painful. It is easy to say that new jobs will eventually appear. That is not much comfort to the fifty-year-old worker who has just been told that the profession he has spent thirty years learning is no longer needed.

And I think this is where the story becomes bigger than AI. The real question may not be what happens when machines become more capable. The real question may be what happens to people when we decide they are no longer economically useful. We have always tended to measure people by what they accomplish. What do you do? How much do you make? What is your title? Where did you go to school? How successful are you? How much responsibility do you have? Those questions are so common that we hardly notice what they imply. We begin to connect what someone does with what someone is worth. Then along comes a machine that can do more. Faster. Cheaper. Sometimes better. And suddenly we have a problem.

If my value comes from my productivity, what happens when something else is more productive than I am? If my value comes from my knowledge, what happens when a computer knows more? If my value comes from my creativity, what happens when a machine can create too? If my value comes from being difficult to replace, what happens when I can be replaced? That is not really a technological question. It is a spiritual one.

Jesus said:

Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?
Matthew 6:26 (ESV)

Our value was never supposed to come from our usefulness to an employer. It does not come from our paycheck. It does not come from our profession. It does not come from how productive we are. It does not come from how much other people need us. And it certainly does not disappear because a machine can perform some of the same tasks we can.

That may be one of the lessons we need most as artificial intelligence continues to improve. We should learn how to use it. We should prepare for the changes that are coming. We should think seriously about what it means for our work, our children, our businesses, and our society. But we should also be careful about something much more basic. We should not allow technology to convince us that a person has less value simply because a machine can do his job.

The Luddites feared that the machines were making them unnecessary. Two hundred years later, we may be facing that same fear. The machines have changed. The fear has not. What happens when a machine can do your job? Maybe eventually it will.

But that was never what made you valuable in the first place.

Love and trust in the Lord; seek His will in your life.

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Watching The Odyssey reminded me of how little of the story I actually remembered. I recalled the war, the monsters, and the many obstacles Odysseus encountered, but I had forgotten the simple desire that holds the entire story together.

Odysseus wants to go home.

After ten years fighting at Troy, he spends nearly ten more trying to return to Ithaca. Whatever else may be said about him, he knows where he belongs. He knows the island, the household, and the people to whom he is trying to return. The destination is never in doubt. The difficulty is getting there.

Perhaps that is one reason his story has endured for nearly three thousand years. Most of us understand the desire to reach a place where we can finally say, “This is where I belong.” We may not call that place Ithaca. We may call it financial security, retirement, professional success, marriage, family, or simply peace. We imagine that if we can reach it, something within us will finally settle.

Much of my own life was spent building toward those things. I pursued an education, established a medical practice, raised a family, and worked to provide financial security for those I love. I am grateful for all of it. None of those pursuits was wrong, and many of them were responsibilities God had given me. Yet arriving at a long-awaited stage of life has caused me to think more seriously about what I was actually trying to reach.

Retirement may end a career, but it does not answer every question the career allowed us to postpone. Financial security may relieve many legitimate concerns, but it cannot tell us why we are here. A house can shelter a family without necessarily becoming the home our hearts are seeking. We can know exactly what we want next and still be uncertain about where our lives are ultimately going. Odysseus did not have that uncertainty. Ithaca may have been distant, but it was identifiable. He could point toward it even when he could not see it. Can we?

If someone asked us where we are going—not next week or next year, but where our lives are finally headed—how would we answer? Many of us have plans for the remainder of our lives. We may know how we want to invest, travel, spend our time, help our families, or enjoy the years ahead. Those decisions matter, but they are not the same as knowing our destination.

Scripture tells us that our restlessness has a deeper source than an unfinished career, an unrealized dream, or dissatisfaction with our circumstances. We were created to know God, but sin has separated us from Him. We attempt to make ourselves at home through accomplishment, relationships, possessions, pleasure, and even religion, yet none of them can repair that separation.

That does not mean these things have no value. It means they cannot carry a weight they were never intended to bear. A successful career can be received with gratitude, but it cannot reconcile us to God. A loving family is an extraordinary blessing, but even our closest relationships cannot answer for us before Him. Financial security can provide options and relieve anxiety, but it cannot secure our souls. Eventually, every earthly Ithaca proves to be temporary.

Jesus described His purpose in words that reverse the usual story of the human search for meaning:

For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.
Luke 19:10 (ESV)

The gospel is not the story of human beings finally becoming wise enough to discover the way back to God. It is the story of God coming for people who are lost. That distinction matters because we often approach spiritual life as though it were another journey we must complete through intelligence, discipline, sincerity, or good works. We assume that if we try hard enough, live respectably enough, or become religious enough, we will eventually find our way home.

But Christianity does not begin with our ability to reach God. It begins with Christ coming to us. Jesus entered our world, bore the judgment our sins deserved, and rose from the dead so that those who repent and trust in Him might be reconciled to God. Our hope rests not in how successfully we navigate the journey, but in what Christ has already accomplished.

Odysseus knew that Ithaca was his home, and his great challenge was finding his way back. Our problem is deeper. Left to ourselves, we do not fully understand what home is, why we are separated from it, or how to return. We may spend decades moving purposefully toward goals that can never provide what we expect from them. There is nothing wrong with pursuing worthwhile goals or enjoying the blessings God gives us along the way. The danger comes when we mistake those blessings for our final destination.

Watching The Odyssey left me with a question that extends far beyond Odysseus and Ithaca. It is a question worth asking at any age, but perhaps it becomes more urgent when many of the goals that once occupied us have already been reached.

Do I know where home is?

Scripture’s answer is not merely that heaven awaits at the end of life. It is through Christ that we can be reconciled to God now. The wandering can end before the journey does.

Odysseus knew where home was.

Do you?

Love and trust in the Lord; seek His will in your life.

#faith #trustinggod #christianity #jesuschrist #bible #seekinggodswill #truth #sanctification #godisincontrol #godhearsourprayers #salvation #providenceofGod #Odyssey #Luke19:10

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The officers arrive early. Families are afraid to leave their homes. Workers wonder whether going to work could mean being taken away. Children hear their parents whispering about what they should do if someone knocks on the door. Some Americans are relieved. They believe the government is finally enforcing laws that have been ignored for too long. Others watch frightened families and wonder whether something has gone terribly wrong. The country is anxious. Jobs are scarce. People are angry. Politicians promise to protect Americans from those who do not belong here. And slowly, the question changes.

It is no longer simply: Who is here legally?
It becomes: Who belongs?

This sounds familiar.

But this is not 2026.

It is 1931.

America is collapsing into the Great Depression. Banks are failing. Businesses are closing. Men who had worked their entire lives are standing in breadlines. Families are losing their homes. Millions of Americans desperately need jobs. And in communities across the Southwest, people begin looking at their Mexican neighbors differently. They see men working in fields. They see families speaking Spanish. They see neighborhoods filled with people whose parents or grandparents had come from Mexico. And an idea begins to spread. Maybe they are taking jobs that should belong to Americans. Maybe if they left, there would be more work for everyone else. The logic is simple. And when people are frightened enough, simple explanations become very attractive.

Government officials begin encouraging Mexicans to return to Mexico. Local authorities organize removals. Immigration officers conduct raids. Families are pressured to leave. Some go voluntarily because they are afraid of what will happen if they stay. Others are deported. But something happens that should trouble us.

The line between Mexican immigrant and Mexican American begins to disappear. Some of the people forced from the country are not illegal immigrants. Some are not immigrants at all. They are American citizens. They were born here. For some, America is the only home they have ever known.

Imagine being a child in one of those families. You were born in California. You go to an American school. You play with American friends. You recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Then one day your parents tell you to pack. You are going to Mexico. But you have never lived in Mexico. You may barely speak Spanish. You ask your parents why you have to leave. And perhaps there is no answer a child could understand. You are an American. But suddenly that is not enough. Because people look at you and see something else. They see Mexican. And during the Depression, that difference can make you suspicious.

Millions of Americans are suffering. They want someone to fix it. Someone has to be responsible. And once fear enters the room, the individual begins to disappear. A man is no longer a father trying to feed his family. He is a Mexican worker. A woman is no longer a mother trying to keep her children safe. She is part of the immigration problem. A child is no longer an American child frightened about losing his home. He belongs to them.

That may be the most dangerous transformation of all. Because the first step is often reasonable. There is a problem. The second may also be true. Some people are contributing to the problem. But then something changes. Those people are the problem. And eventually: Those people are dangerous. That is how a legal question can become a human one.

Nearly a century later, we are arguing again. It is 2026. America is deeply divided over immigration. People argue about illegal border crossings, asylum, crime, employment, deportation, and whether a nation can remain sovereign if its immigration laws are not enforced.

Those are legitimate questions. A country has borders. Laws matter. A government has a responsibility to protect its citizens and enforce the laws enacted by its representatives. Christians do not have to pretend otherwise. But history asks us another question. What happens inside us while those laws are being enforced? When we see television images of immigration raids, what do we see? A lawbreaker? Perhaps. A criminal? Sometimes.

But what else? Do we see a father wondering whether he will ever see his children again? A mother trying to explain to a frightened child what is happening? A worker who may have lived here for twenty years? A child who did not choose where his parents brought him? Do we still see individuals? Or has everyone become one enormous category?

Illegal.

That word may describe someone’s legal status. But it cannot describe the totality of a human being. And that is where history becomes uncomfortable. America did not wake up one morning in 1931 and suddenly decide to mistreat American citizens of Mexican ancestry. It happened gradually. Economic fear became resentment. Resentment became suspicion. Suspicion became policy. And somewhere along the way, people stopped asking: What has this person done? and began asking: What kind of person is he?

Scripture speaks directly into that danger.

You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself.
Leviticus 19:34 (ESV)

That verse does not tell Congress what the immigration quota should be. It does not tell a president how many people should be deported. It does not eliminate borders. It does not erase the rule of law. It tells me something. It tells me how I am to see the stranger. As a human being. As someone made in the image of God. As someone I am commanded to love.

That may be where Christians should refuse the choice our politics keeps offering us. We do not have to choose between law and compassion. We do not have to believe that every immigration policy is unjust to care about the people affected by it. And we do not have to abandon border enforcement to insist that no human being should become merely a label.

History does not repeat because the circumstances are identical. They are not. America in 2026 is not America in 1931. But human nature has not changed very much. We still become frightened. We still look for someone to blame. We still find it easier to judge groups than individuals. And once we have decided that a group represents the problem, it becomes remarkably easy to stop seeing the people inside it.

So perhaps the most important immigration question for a Christian is not simply: Who should be allowed to remain in America? There is another question we must ask first. When does an immigrant become an enemy?

Maybe it happens the moment we stop seeing a neighbor.

Love and trust in the Lord; seek His will in your life.

#faith #trustinggod #christianity #jesuschrist #bible #seekinggodswill #truth #sanctification #godisincontrol #godhearsourprayers #salvation #providenceofGod #whendoesanimmigrantbecomeanenemy #Leviticus19:34

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