Unbeknownst to me, I’m perceived as somewhat of a Debbie downer. Not by everyone. There isn’t a consensus or anything. Still, enough people have been wondering when I was going to channel my inner Joel Osteen and give you a generalized platitude, which of itself, useless, would get you through another day.
I think I’ve already fumbled the ball on this one though since I’m sure some will take umbrage with my use of the word channel. Unclutch those pearls, Edith, I didn’t mean channel like fake witches and drunk college students using Ouija boards mean channel.
An entire cottage industry has risen up around confirmation bias and telling people that whatever they don’t like isn’t real, to begin with. Don’t believe your lying eyes; just listen to my soothing words. Fluffy clouds and guiltless egg nog are just a selfless gift away, but you must act today; yes, you must act today.
I’m not a people pleaser if you haven’t guessed already, but I do weigh the input I receive judiciously. As such, today, I’ve decided it was time to discuss the upside of famine since the odds are favoring the reality of it within the next six to nine months. No, not in some far-off war-torn African nation, but here in these United States.
I wonder if the people of Samaria ever thought they’d be fighting over donkey heads and dove droppings. That’s the problem with devastation; most people don’t want to believe it’s possible until they live it. They don’t want to allow for the possibility that times will get so hard that they’d be paying five shekels of silver per quarter cab for stuff they used to scrape off their sandals until they’re standing in line, hoping the guy selling dove droppings doesn’t run out before it’s their turn.
It wasn’t silver that was in low supply; it was the needful, life-sustaining, everyday, humdrum, meat and potatoes sort of things like food. Meat and potatoes. I imagine they’d have paid a pretty shekel for meat and potatoes.
Besides the ever-popular, ‘I’m from the government, and I’m here to help, ‘I was just following orders, and ‘this is for the greater good, I think ‘that could never happen here’ deserves a spot in the top five worst possible things you could hear, ever.
I think It’s just our way of justifying laziness or delaying the inevitability of confronting reality.
There are many things we said could never happen here that have happened here, so it stands to reason that if they happened, famine on a large scale could also. With each passing day, it seems ever more likely, even though the people who got it wrong about everything else insist you have nothing to fear. They meant to say that you have nothing to fear until November 8. After that, they won’t much care either way.
Let not your heart be troubled, though; famine isn’t just squirrel hunting with homemade spears or rotisserie rat; there is an upside to it, a quantifiable one, and as far as I’m concerned, a welcomed one.
You may not know this if you’ve never lived through a season of famine, but hunger, the direct effect of famine, has an astounding ability to cure stupidity in lo’ its many forms.
If his tummy is rumbling, Tommy won’t even entertain the idea that he might be Tammy because hunger takes precedence over the need for attention. The vapid follies of an unencumbered generation will cease to be because you either learn to adult, work, sweat, apply yourself and earn your daily bread, or starve.
Famine will also be a powerful curative for half-imagined maladies, you know, the ones that make unimpressive people seem unique and stand out. Gone will be gluten intolerance, lactose intolerance, dairy aversion, meat allergies, and the such. My wife’s grandmother ate tree bark when she was a child because there was nothing else to eat, and her stomach hurt.
I’m kind of looking forward to seeing the pretentious, ‘I only drink soy milk’ crowd slurping up cow milk as though they were a kitten with a half-full bowl.
It will also be a glorious time for the children of God. Some of you don’t see it yet but having ravens drop off ribeyes while everyone squabbles over dove droppings should be a sight to behold.
No, I’m not being glib about potential famine, I just know the God I serve, and I refuse to live in an atmosphere of fear or scarcity.
God knows you will need to eat, and drink, and clothe yourself, and plans for your provision have been in place longer than you have been alive.
Oh, and those skinny jeans in the back of your closet, the ones you bought when Bush Senior was talking about a thousand points of light, dust those babies off. You just might fit into them sooner rather than later.
With love in Christ,
Michael Boldea, Jr.