Slumber

 That a news host would have more discernment than most mainline, mega-church pastors should not only disgust you, it should horrify you. No, it shouldn’t terrify you because mutilated, mentally ill individuals with soft bone density aren’t terrifying, but it should horrify you because the vacuous silence from America’s pulpits isn’t just abnormal; it’s unnatural.

Every cause must have a nemesis, a well-defined enemy that can be pointed to and accused of standing in the way of utopia. For Stalin it was Trotsky. For Hitler it was the Jews. For communism it was capitalism. Today it’s those pesky Christians and their Jesus that are keeping the shriveled, wrinkled caterpillar from becoming the beautiful butterfly with the festering wound that needs to be kept open lest the human body heals itself and closes it up. It’s not pretty, but it was never meant to be, for to go against the natural order God ordained is to kick against the goads quite literally.

I am not without empathy. Demonic oppression, possession, mental illness, or whatever rubric you want to pencil it under are all real things. My empathy ends when your mental illness becomes a danger and direct threat to my family and those close to me. Where my empathy ends is when you give voice to the idea that the only way you can live with yourself is if you end me.

Sorry, pudding, but this knuckle dragger hasn’t been on estrogen for the better part of a decade, and my muscle density hasn’t withered into nothingness in that opening a pickle jar makes my knees knock together. I’m pretty sure I can knock the crazy right out of you if I have to, but there I go, not living up to the super spiritual expectations some have projected onto me.

That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? For the better part of three decades, the most effete and effeminate men have risen to prominence in Christendom. Because their only trick was to pander to the simple and simpleminded, they summarily demonized anyone who showed a spine or any semblance of masculinity. Everyone got a label, unloving, uncaring, or unwilling to change with the times; if you weren’t validating and celebrating rebellion, you just weren’t the right type of Christian.

Effete, feminine qualities became the hallmarks of spirituality, and dare anyone raise their voice above a coo, then you know who animates their proclamations, don’t you? You can’t make people feel uncomfortable. After all, what would Jesus do? Jesus would make them feel uncomfortable. When you point that tidbit out, they’re quick to tell you that their Jesus wouldn’t, and you’re left scratching your head trying to explain how there’s only one Jesus, and it’s the Jesus of the Bible. Having lost the argument, they’re sure to pivot to some emotional plea because it’s all they have in their arsenal.  

If you weren’t a single mother, you were, by process of elimination, a toxic male, and thereby worthy of being shunned as thoroughly as the Amish shun someone caught listening to shortwave radio. They created an atmosphere where they alone remained and, as such, were deemed the most masculine of the effeminate men, redefining masculinity and teaching generation after generation that the battlefield was no place for a young man but hiding behind his mother’s skirts was.

I’m not trying to make anyone angry just for the sake of it. I’m trying to explain that we didn’t get to where we are overnight, and if we hope to remedy the situation, we can’t hope to do it overnight, either.

The first thing that must take place is that men of virtue, conviction, holiness, and fearlessness must boldly speak the truth anew. They must call sin by name, call out the danger when they see it approaching, and be immovable in their convictions.

We cannot have men who do not claim to be shepherds of God’s house show more virtue and conviction than those who do. If need be, we must shame the cowards into action, spurn them to wakefulness, and goad them into taking a stand. If they still refuse, then it is clear they are not on the side of truth, or light, or righteousness, but are siphons, leeches, grifters who saw the potential for wealth if only they told people what they wanted to hear, and removed unpopular things like holiness unto God from their repertoire.

The moment you saw a fully grown man yelling “it’s ma’am” at a pimply-faced kid in a GameStop, you could see where this was headed. The trajectory was clear, and violence was an issue of when not if. Yet, here we still are, and powerful leaders of Christendom are bending over backward, trying to calm their skittish sheep and get them back to sleep or to another presentation of drag queen story hour.

Some are already awake and starting to make a fuss. They’re already asking uncomfortable questions of their hireling shepherds and aren’t liking the answers they’re getting in return.

This won’t be the last of it, I fear. And with each horrid act, they will insist it’s your fault for not being accepting enough, loving enough, inclusive enough, for not celebrating and validating and encouraging your own kids to butcher themselves and live in a perpetual state of self-loathing.

You didn’t do enough to validate their mental illness, and for that, you and your children deserve to die!

Just to be clear, I am under no obligation to feed into or go along with your delusion. I am under no obligation to say an apple’s an orange just to pacify your fragile, fractured mind. That you would insist I do so lest I incur your wrath is a place you don’t want to go because there’s consequences in them there hills.

The battle lines aren’t being drawn; they’ve already been drawn. This might be a good time to check and see which side your denomination, pastor, elder board, or bishop are on. The most effective thing you can do as an individual is to stop giving your time and resources to people who hate you and want to see you dead. Start there.

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.