How Can Prayer Be Wrong?

A recent article I read made me angry about the recent propensity to twist ordinary, well-documented ideas into knots, and then using that knot to make a stupid point. It claimed that Catholics are “weaponizing” the rosary. I was so shocked at this absurd allegation that I had to read the entire article several times, just to make sense of it all.

Now, I no longer consider myself a practicing Catholic (a practicing Christian – definitely), but I remember my Catholic upbringing in great detail. The earliest time I can remember learning the parts of the rosary was in first grade. We learned the Our Father, the Hail Mary, and the Glory Be. We passed our fingers along a set of beads – one prayer for each bead. We knelt on the floor or on a kneeler – and that’s about as physical as it got. I remember being tired of kneeling; I remember losing my place on the beads. I remember forgetting which Mystery I was supposed to be contemplating (there are four sets of five Mysteries – all on them focused on the coming of Christ, His ministry, or His death and resurrection).

But never do I remember being taught to “fight progress” with my set of rosary beads.

Fight the Devil – yes.

Fight my boredom – yes.

Fight dozing off – yes, definitely!

But what is this latest nonsense? How can prayer (even prayer to a saint) matter to a world that actively ignores God’s Commandments, and even proclaims that He doesn’t exist? (And if He doesn’t exist, why pay attention to His Son’s mother?)

***

I will offer this insight:

Satan must be getting scared.

Satan must not like the fact that every time a Catholic prays the Hail Mary, he or she utters the word “Jesus.”

Satan cannot attack the Our Father, so he attacks the next Catholic prayer down the list.

Take your pick of any or all three, but did you notice who’s behind all this nonsense? The being whose time dominating this planet is very short – so short, he’s begun ambushing those people who are down on their knees fighting him!

Coloring within the Lines

I happen to live in the great State of Tennessee. Although I am a transplanted Yankee, I am delighted that the Lord led Allen and me to live here. I have been blessed with finding a wonderful church, family, and friends.

However, there’s one pet peeve that constantly irks me: the tendency for the big, fast farm trucks (you know who you are!) to recklessly cross the center yellow lines when the drivers think they are the only ones on the road. It’s bad enough when they do this on four-lane highways, or on broad main streets; a careful driver will swing to avoid contact, and go peacefully on his or her way. However, Tennessee has many more back country roads than straight city roads. They twist and turn around fields (often swaying with chest-high corn) and small hills. The shoulders on these roads are barely wide enough to accommodate a pig, much less a large car trying to avoid an accident. On some occasions, I have been startled to be presented with a near-miss situation – the other driver seldom seems to realize the danger that he / she has put others in.

“What does it matter?” I hear you say. It doesn’t – unless you are the one involved in the collision and is severely injured. And then there are all sorts of “explanations” why the guilty driver crossed the line – and the victim is dragged into a long court battle over being compensated for some of the pain and trouble thrust upon him or her.

Why am I ranting about under-cautious drivers? I’m not. I’m about to launch into my real point: the fact that this kind of thing is indicative of what many, many people basically believe: If God’s not there (or He’s not watching), why should it matter if anyone breaks the law or takes chances with someone else’s life or property? There’s no policeman around, so who’s to assign guilt?

It matters – oh, it matters.

It matters that many people today basically regard the law – even a small thing like staying on one’s own side of the road – as something arbitrary or ego-centric. It matters that one cannot accurately predict the consequences of one’s actions; only God sees all the factors and outcomes – past, present, and future.

The reason why this essay is entitled “Coloring within the Lines” is this: Just as a parent encourages a five-year-old to color carefully and to stay within the lines drawn for the picture he or she is coloring, God has designed a Big Picture for society. The Big Picture involves accepting the basic truth of the Ten Commandments:

God is paramount. He cannot and will not give up His throne to any other entity.

Manmade idols come between God and an orderly, law-full world. They block the Son of God’s perfect work on the Cross.

God’s name is holy and pure – and that includes His law. Nothing can adulterate it or set it aside.

A God-centered week includes a day of rest and restoration – whether it’s on Saturday or on Sunday.

God is the One Who places a living soul in the womb of each and every pregnant woman. He is completely intentional about His creation; He expects a man to be a husband to the woman who gives birth to his child. Furthermore, the child is to be obedient to the parents, even if they are not perfect. (God’s Word, however, is quite clear that the child is not the “property” of the parents to do with as they please; they must follow God’s plan for families.)

Neither man nor woman is authorized to terminate another human being’s life – including one in the womb. (We can talk about legal retribution for murder another time.)

God says to commit to one marriage partner – man and woman, not multiple combinations – for life.

God says to keep your hands off of things that belong to other people; in other words, He is not the author of “entitlement” theories.

God says to stick to the truth – even about your own mistakes. Getting other people in trouble by lying is never justified by God.

Material items are gifts from God; if you feel you are being shortchanged in anything, talk to Him about it. Working to take over what belongs to another person – even when it comes to “taking your half out of the middle of the road” – will only lead to collisions with others.

***

Did a certain agency who raided a certain former president’s home color within the lines? As more and more information about that incident comes out, the answer is: Apparently not.

Has the government colored within the lines during the pandemic? As more and more information comes out about the one-sided shenanigans pushed by certain politicians, the answer is: Apparently not.

Has a certain former-vice-president kept faith with his inauguration oath? As more and more information comes out about large sums of money directed towards his bank account from foreign powers, the answer is: Apparently not.

***

Coloring within the lines produces clear and pleasing pictures of life here in earth. Doing a sloppy job – using the crayon wherever and whenever one feels like it – produces tragic results for society.

Before My Husband Allen Was a Husband

Weeks ago, I promised to say more about my husband Allen, who passed away just over 20 months ago. Well, here are a few important reflections regarding this wonderful man:

Let’s start at the beginning. Before Allen was a husband, he was born a male. Yes, he didn’t decide to be a male the moment he took his first independent breath. Neither did his parents conduct some sort of Affirmation Ceremony at his birth. And – as far as I know – there was no discussion between the doctor and nurse(s) present as to which gender he would be “assigned.” It was an obvious, logical reaction to a certain anatomical fact that was obvious the moment he emerged from the birth canal.

I wasn’t even aware that God had planned a future Soul Mate for me. But I arrived in this world five months later (and we never argued whether a summer or a winter birthday was better; we just enjoyed the fact that we existed and shared the same birth year), and found him about sixteen years after that.

Before Allen was a husband, he was a boy. He played with boy things; he played baseball on the street with the other kids. Notice that I did not say “boys”; his younger sister was one of the “kids,” and played alongside whoever showed up for street ball. He was taught that boys, being – generally speaking – a tad bit stronger than girls, he should not bully, beat up, or strong-arm his female acquaintances. There were no anxious, woke-ful discussions regarding how boys should be more like girls. His parents merely followed the Biblical instructions for training a boy in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness (yes – I know he was a pesky brother at times!), goodness, faithfulness, and self-control (Galatians 6:22-23).

And before I even knew he was to be my husband, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that this tall, lanky teenager with red hair and playful eyes was a kind soul who would rather walk away from a potential argument than start one. His manly, ingrained gentleness was a much-desired trait.

Before Allen was a husband, he became a Christian. When he was eleven, he attended an evening revival meeting at the church he attended with his mother, and responded to the altar call. After affirming his proper understanding of this spiritual event, he was baptized. It goes without saying that he grew in his faith and became the young man that I was attracted to.

Once we began courting (yes, you read that right!), and as I began to suspect that Allen and I would someday get married, he and I talked and talked and talked about God and His Son, Jesus Christ. We went to each other’s churches (I was Catholic; he was Baptist. Before he departed this life, my husband and I had joined a nearby Methodist church). We discovered that we shared a common thirst for God’s truth, and for worshipping Him each Sunday. (At times, we even joined in Sunday services at both our churches on the same Sunday!) Once he became a husband, he made sure that his wife was fully supportive of their unified church choice. Therefore, we never took a “holiday” from Sunday worship.

Before Allen became a husband, he decided where his national allegiance lay. Believing that his low draft number (“20” in 1970) would result in his being drafted into the Army, he signed up for the Navy. The job he was trained for in that branch of the Armed Forces ended up being his job for life. Despite being affected by progressive deconstructionism of traditional American patriotism and recent woke-ism, Allen stayed true to everything he had thought through and affirmed during his teenage years – before he became my husband. How do I know this? Because he and I discussed our views and our reactions to everyday events every day of our married life (which happened to be just short of 50 years). Of course, I am not counting the time he spent assigned to Alaska, or out on naval vessels in the Mediterranean Sea as daily interaction, but we affirmed our love and devotion to each other through letters and phone calls during the necessary separations. There is not now – nor has there ever been – any doubt in my mind that Allen was true to established American ideals.

And – yes – our views evolved as we studied more and more of the Scriptures, and listened carefully to sermons and tapes and videos that touched on important political topics. Remarkably, though, we never seemed to “discover” – as so many unfortunate “woke” people, adrift in their anchorless existence, have “discovered” – that our patriotism and dedication to serving America had been misplaced. Right up to retirement, my husband proclaimed his commitment to Bible-based American ideals – even though he “sat in the corner” for the last year of his career, stripped of any meaningful power to affect the affairs of his branch of government due to his relentless loyalty to the truth.

He became a true, verifiable husband the day we were married. But he started on the road to being a husband the day he was born. He progressed through childhood, following the correct and godly path for boys pointed out to him by a loving father and a loving mother. He accepted Christ as his Savior and Lord, which provided the foundation for him to become the husband a woman could (and did) lean on for godly leadership. He was a husband by God’s design – and he made me a wife.

Praise God for creating a husband through His design!