You get to govern one of two populations – “Dominion Town” or “Chance Town.”

Dominion Town is full of people who believe they are the children of a just and holy God who loves them and has made them in His image.  God’s eyes are upon them all the time.  If you make them stumble, if you confuse or abuse them, picture God Himself tying a millstone around your neck and kicking you off the end of a pier.  (After all, they are endowed by their Creator with “certain unalienable rights.”)  Dominion Town believes in objective, immutable, implacable truth – and these folks seek it diligently.  Since every citizen of Dominion Town sees themselves as a child of the King – a prince or princess – they expect, when confused, to go head-to-head with other children of the King.  They welcome discussion, and a multitude of counselors, on their way to finding true north.  Even if it may be difficult to read at times, they do have a compass and they expect it to work.

Chance Town is just confused–and reconciled to remaining confused.  The obligations of the herd and the desire for respectability, in this age, require they see themselves, on some level, as highly complex, but accidental stardust – meandering biological bags of mostly water.  The academy’s deference to random, meaningless creation mocks anyone flirting with divine origins. Some of Chance Town may embrace some sort of religion, even a casual Christianity, but their primary foundation is institutional.  They trust the experts.  When conscience, or reason, tugs them apart from the herd, urges them to question some “tradition of men,” they defer to some Pharisee within the academy who will make them feel safe about embracing the absurd, or the downright evil.  They are so at home with being confused, they don’t even feel confused anymore.  They bask in the false, but satisfying, appeal of the collective’s approval.

One of these two populations is going to be substantially easier to govern.  When a population develops expertise at quieting moral and intellectual confusion, you can do just about anything you want with them.  As one former Soviet once reminded me, “if they can get you believing the absurd, they can make you do the unthinkable.”

This year’s paranoia about “Christian Nationalism” might charitably be seen as a fear of theocracy, but it’s really the fear of moral certainty.  There are substantial benefits to cultivated confusion.  The emotional and spiritual pain of aborting a child, (“please don’t show me those pictures of the severed limbs and the infant decapitations”), can be softened with fervent appeals to “choice” and “bodily autonomy” and “women’s health.”  The emotional trauma following casual sex, or porn-addiction, can be muted with the comfort of knowing you are not, after all, a wild-eyed fundamentalist.  The pain of measuring who is more at fault for destroying a marriage can be eased with some legal anesthesia: “no one is to blame here; this is all no-fault.”  We can even set it all to music.   ..It’s too late baby now, it’s too late, though we really did try to make it.  Something inside has died and I can’t hide and I just can’t fake it. 

The need to keep you confused, and comfortable with confusion, is ramping up.  Think about the last few decades.  We are enduring an unrelenting psyop with the ferocity of a global war.  If you encounter “official absurdity” with such frequency you are tempted to give up on ever finding the truth, they have you on the brink.  If they can get you to give up on the truth itself, if they can get you to give up on your moral and intellectual instincts, they have you where they want you — a compliant slave anxious about his rations, and quite ready to label any inquiry, or debate, as “indulging conspiracy theory.”

Consider ;just a small sample of today’s official absurdity..

  • If the thought of a child raised by two homosexual men–a child who will never know the comfort of a mother’s embrace—seems abhorrent, there is a reason for your revulsion.  If the image of a little boy wondering why there is no real dad among his two lesbian mothers, if that saddens you, there is a reason for your grief.
  • If the image of an infant buried in the chest hair of a man trying to “nurse” a baby feels something like a crime, your sense of justice comes from a very real place.
  • If your daughter–a promising golfer on LPGA circuit–is abruptly bested by a square-jawed dude with fake boobs, and you think that is grossly unfair, don’t be shamed into thinking “tolerance” requires your warm embrace.
  • If an educator believes preference-confused adolescents will commit suicide unless everyone in junior high is compelled to read gay comic strips, you aren’t crazy for objecting.  Don’t let them bamboozle you with accusations of censorship and a philistine rejection of “award winning” literature.  It really is just “award winning” pornography–and child-abuse to boot.
  • If the entire corporate world appears to turn on a dime, demanding an experimental jab so as to keep your job, you need to give yourself credit.  You aren’t crazy.  They are.
  • If your pastor, who once gave scorching sermons about the need for Christian fellowship and communal worship, suddenly locks the door in deference to public health panic, and then asks for tithing over YouTube, don’t be ashamed to hide your credit card.  That may be Dominion Town beckoning you in the direction of sanity.

If you are confused these days, and unhappy with our confusion—angered, annoyed, perhaps even depressed, Thank God.  You still have a conscience.  You haven’t mocked the Holy Spirit.  You are seeking that City on a Hill – Dominion Town.  You long for a real debate, a Berean challenge, and you prefer that over silent submission to the dark authors of confusion.

..Because make no mistake: if a loving Father in Heaven has given you life and liberty, and a desire to know the truth, there is a dark force in solemn rebellion to that love.  When the valley of Tophet was filled with the screaming of burning children, hideously sacrificed to Molech, the spirit of confusion was worshiped.  When certain “worthless fellows” surrounded a home and demanded the rape of the Levite, it represented the final stage of the surrender to confusion.  When someone sees “reparations” in a flash-mob smash-and-grab, they are really celebrating the death of their conscience.

Ponder this terrible truth:  when the Author of scripture declares you “worthless,” it’s because you can’t be reached anymore.  You have agreed to call evil good and good evil.

And then ponder the central question of “Christian Nationalism.” Someone will make the rules by which you are governed.  Which will it be?  Your Father in Heaven or a devil who calls you cosmic dust?