Unlikely Champions

What does it say about the current crop of spiritual leaders when a billionaire playboy former reality television star turned president is more vocal about being pro-life than most of them? What does it say about the current state of the church when a man who is largely deemed as unsavory by the pearl clutching self-righteous among us, is more resolute in his defense of the unborn than those who ought to be their loudest defenders?

If the shepherds are too busy sheering the sheep and selling the wool to see that their flocks are being buffeted on all sides, then maybe, just maybe, the sheep ought to be grateful for the sheepdog standing between them and the wolves instead of pointing out how unseemly he looks, or how violent he acts.

In case you’ve never seen a sheepdog fight a wolf, the sheepdog can be just as vicious as the wolf, but one is trying to butcher the sheep while the other is doing his best to protect them. If we judge the viciousness without taking into account the intent, then all we will see is two animals tearing at each other, locked in a heated fight for supremacy. There is no moral equivalence between the wolf and the sheepdog. One is fighting to protect life; the other is fighting to snuff it out.

Sure, I would prefer for the shepherds to do their job and protect the sheep from the wolves, but since they seem to be too busy making sure they’ve got enough shekels squirreled away for ten lifetimes instead of keeping the sheep safe, I sure am thankful that the sheepdog is around, mangy and misunderstood as he might be. 

In case you missed it, the sheepdog threw down the gauntlet in no uncertain terms during his state of the union address, and asked congress to pass legislation prohibiting the late term abortion of babies who can feel pain in a mother’s womb.

Just when the wolves thought they could feast to their hearts’ content, just when they thought they’d routed the sheep while the shepherds were sleeping, here comes the orange haired sheepdog, and howls so boldly that it sets the wolves back on their heels.

Sometimes the champion we need doesn’t look like the champion we wanted, or what we imagined our champion would be. Instead of a strapping young preacher with a baritone voice and a penchant for quoting long dead philosophers, we get a 72-year-old man who is getting a bit soft around the middle, and has ample baggage from a life lived in the public eye.

Personally, I don’t care about the packaging. All I care about is whether or not he is willing to stand between the sheep and the wolves, and give as good as he gets. I am utterly mystified that there are still some within the church that expect a fight to the death to be G rated, absent claw marks and torn flesh, absent spilled blood and gaping wounds.

“Don’t mind us trying to pass legislation that would allow for the murder of a baby after it’s been born; look at how crass the orange haired sheepdog is.”

Make no mistake. This is, without equivocation a fight to the death, and it is a fight worth fighting because of what’s at stake. Will we descend into barbarism, an orgy of hedonism and nihilism wherein we cheer the murder of the newly born, or will we defend those who cannot defend themselves, and speak up for those who have no voice?

I don’t know about you, but between the orange haired sheepdog doing his best to protect the sanctity of life, and the hell-hound that would have gloried and celebrated the murder of the innocent with a glee reserved for the soulless and demented, I am glad we have the sheepdog.  Unlikely a champion as he might be, I do believe few if any others would have possessed the steel spine required to do what he just did. 

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea Jr.