THEY'RE ON THEIR WAY

481,000 men and women are on the way and they're dangerous. It won't be long before they're here. That figure is accurate, give or take. Those 481,000 comprise the enrollment of the University of California System, the largest university system in the US of A.

What makes them dangerous will be the indoctrination their education will have imposed upon them via a required course for every one of the 481,000 students: they will (if the bill passes the California legislature) have to take a course in "Ethnic Studies."

It's not an optional course like, say, Latin or First Aid to Athletic Injuries. If your major is mechanical engineering or biology or business, you will, like every other student, have to take Ethnic Studies if you want to strut on the graduation stage no matter your major.

This means that 481,000 will be taking a course that's anti-Israel, that advocates the boycotting of Jewish businesses, that advocates the destruction of the state of Israel, and that denigrates, disparages, and destroys Western Civilization which is based on Christianity.

Not only that, but also it's course that won't have your Bible-based values in it. It'll be a course in which--regarding marriage and gender--481,000 students will be instructed that they can make up their own definitions. As far as truth is concerned, they'll see it as being in the eye of the beholder. Things like that.

These 481,000 will graduate to become our doctors, lawyers, judges, senators, presidents, and legislative representatives, federal and state. They will be our Boy Scout and Girl Scout leaders, our Sunday school teachers and pastors. They will teach in seminaries, elementary, middle, and high schools. They will write the textbooks, the best-sellers, and bring us the news on cable, the networks, newspapers, and magazines. They will raise their children with the same lack of biblical principles as they have as well as with a hostility or an indifference toward the church. Their children will join the ranks of the anti-Semites and stand shoulder to shoulder with their parents.

But remember--God always has a remnant. Maranatha!

SHE'S STARING AT US

She lay buried for 1,750 years, but there she was, big as life, in Pompeii, that city buried in volcanic ash and debris measured by the megaton. The results of the explosion which blew half of Mt. Vesuvius to kingdom come had hidden and preserved the wall painting of a young Pompeian woman  for a long, long time. 

She stares at you with a pensive look; she's thinking about something and we wonder as we look at her, "What's on your mind?" but we'll never know. We note that she's like 90% of the world, right-handed. She's holding a stylus (a writing instrument) in her right hand; it's poised delicately on her lips, tip downward. In her left hand is a tablet on which she'll write. Dangling from the top of the tablet, there appears to be a ribbon, perhaps a bookmark. 

Her clothing is green with what appears to be a purple shawl draped over her shoulders. Her hair is fashionable; her earrings are gold. She looks like she just stepped out of a bandbox, i. e. perfect. From that fresco, we know that she was both educated and rich.

It's from Pompeii, the city sealed in time, sealed in 79 AD to be exact. It's from that sealing by volcanic debris that we know most of what we know about the day-to-day life in the 1st century, back then in the ancient days, the days of the Apostles. And that's where the New Testament enters the picture. When the Apostles wrote their books, who were they writing for? Illiterate bumpkins? A small group of literate people? Let's go to Pompeii and find out. 

Archaeological discoveries reinforce the impression that literacy was more widespread than we once believed. Hundreds of texts written in ink on postcard-sized slips of native wood, such as ash — as opposed to engraved with a stylus on the kind of tablets we see in the fresco — have been found at a military base, in the area of Pompeii, mostly dating from the period just after the destruction of the sealedand now silent city.  

The texts cover a wide range of subjects--from Claudia Severa inviting a friend to a birthday celebration to personal messages and orders for food and other military supplies. Some may have been written by scribes, but with many, the writing shows that the authors weren't professionals. The military was more literate than might have been expected — indeed, material from Egypt from around 79 AD shows that about a third of the members of the camel corps could write their names.

In addition, graffiti is all over Pompeian walls as the tourists see while walking the streets of Pompeii. There are political slogans, a list of the prices of wines, the typical "Marcellus loves Cornelia" messages, and advertisements. Such mundane writings for and by the common man indicate a fairly good literacy rate.

When we turn to the New Testament, Pilate has written on the cross, "Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews" in three languages. This would indicate literacy. When Jesus confronts a hostile crowd concerning the woman taken in adultery, He stoops to write something in the ground. Fishermen like Peter, James, and John were literate, very much so.

This was the world of the New Testament, a more literate world than you might think. A world prepped for the written Word of God.
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WHAT SHOULD I WEAR TO CHURCH?

On the long-vanished Sundays of old, going to church was a time of dress-up. Men and boys wore coats and ties, shoes shined to a shiny hue. Women wore dresses, occasionally a hat, maybe gloves.

Things changed. Formality was out. Relaxed was in. Things became so informal, let's call it, "early bed"--flip flops, shorts, sneakers, whatever, but certainly and absolutely no dress shirts and ties dotted the ecclesiastical landscape. The preachers eschewed the formal and they replaced their time-honored sartorial splendor in the pulpit for the Casual Joe look.

This brought a generational confrontation. The older, coat-and-tie faction looked down on the younger Casual Joes as those who were, in rebellion, were shaking their fists at authority and choosing their attire to be in tune with the anti-authority times. Those times, as the song said, "were a-changin'." Dad was coat and tie, carried his Bible to church, sang from the hymnal; his son, Joe Casual, in sneakers and tee-shirt, looked at a screen to show the book chapter, and verse. Rousing choruses appeared on the large screen. Dad read his King James, Joe C. preferred "The Message" on a screen. Dad, sitting bolt upright, occupied his pew, while Joe C. lounged in movie theater seating.

The stage was set for a generational war, one fought in church after church The war's over; Joe Casual emerged the victor--he's the pastor, the deacon, the elder today. But what of this battle? Was it worth it? Should war have been declared and fought? The question is, "What does the Bible say about the proper dress for Sunday-go-to-meeting?"

And the answer is . . . nothing, absolutely nothing. There's no dress code prescribed for church attendance whether attendees meet in a humble home or in a cavernous cathedral. In the early church, slaves came in work clothes, the patricians dressed in togas with a purple stripe to show their status.

However, although there is no physical dress code prescribed in the Bible, there is a spiritual one for the believer which Peter publishes in I Peter 5:5, no matter where he worships (Peter isn't writing to a church). "You younger men, likewise, be subject to your elders; and all of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, for God is opposed to the proud, but gives grace to the humble."

Self-centeredness is a natural condition of the fallen person. Though appeals to self-interest can move us in positive ways, we need more than self-interest to function optimally for the Lord. We need humility. But just what is this thing called humility?

William Temple, archbishop of Canterbury, said, “Humility does not mean thinking less of yourself than of other people, nor does it mean having a low opinion of your own gifts. It means freedom from thinking of yourself at all.” We see a classic example of humility in Acts 16 in which Luke describes the incident when, after an earthquake, Paul could have easily fled his cell, letting the jailer commit suicide. 

However, Paul did not let the jailer kill himself. He immediately called out, “Don’t harm yourself! We are all here!” (v. 28). Paul naturally thought of others. He faced the test of character, which occurs with virtues, and he passed the test. He gave up his own freedom and risked being killed because of the trumped-up charges he faced. Yet Paul prevented the jailer’s suicide. Paul was a model of humility. The Philippian jailer and his household, became Christians that very night. Everett L. Worthington Jr.)

Humility attracts. Thinking of yourself repels.

SOMETHING'S WRONG WITH FRANK

I have never seen a television program like it. It was a documentary which provides narration with dramatization and interviews with those personally which, when combined, will tell a powerful true story broadcast on ID Discovery. It's going to be a broadcast that one's memory will not be able to erase.

The program opens with the viewer seeing a television camera in the dining room of a home. The camera stands ready to record the coming program. The viewer sees that camera at the ready and a man standing in front of it about to signal the beginning of the filming with the sound of a clapper board.

Seated at a table in their dining room are an old man and his wife; he's holding her hand as the filming begins. They bow their heads and close their eyes as he begins to pray out loud. His voice is steady as he addresses his heavenly father. He prays that what they are about to do, the story they are about to tell will be of help to others. As he concludes, he does so in the name of "Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior." There is nothing ostentatious about his praying, nothing stilted; it's unrehearsed, heartfelt and genuine.

After praying the old man looks down at the table and on it the viewer sees a well-preserved front page of a newspaper on which appears a composite drawing of a man's face. As the old man looks at the face he says, "This is what started it all." He tries to say a few more words, but breaks down, sobbing. He says to the TV people in his home, "That's it. I can't go on." He's not acting.

The narration begins as his wife tells about giving birth to their firstborn, a son they named Frank who was their pride and joy as new parents. She too begins to tear up, saying that it was early on that they both realized something was wrong with their son. When he was about five or so years old, his mother was looking out the window and saw him knock his little sister down in the Seattle snow; the fall hurt her.

The mother rushes out, picks the little girl up and holds her as Frank stands nearby. She asks, "Why did you do that? Why did you knock Ruth down?

Frank says nothing. He just stands there staring at both of them. (For the viewer to see the expression on the boy's face is unnerving--no emotion, nothing. It's both eerie and creepy rolled into one. The expression on the mother's face is one of fear.

Then, a few years later, while the mother is upstairs, she hears her second son, four or five years old, screaming. She rushes to the top of the stairs and looks down to the first floor to see the little boy lying on his stomach in severe pain. She also sees golf balls all over the floor and Frank standing nearby staring at his brother.

Frank has scattered golf balls all over the downstairs area; his little brother has slipped on them and has fallen so hard his broken bone requires a cast from his ankle to his chest. The father sits Frank down and asks, "Why? Why did you do this to your brother?" There's no response. Frank just stares straight ahead as if his father isn't there. Finally, the boy answers, "Because it was fun."

Because of this and other strange incidents, the parents have concluded that their son enjoys hurting people, that he derives pleasure from it. They take him to a neurological specialist, who after co
 conducting a series of tests concludes, "Your son is hyperactive."

The mother asks, "What can we do about it?" The doctor tells them, "Nothing. Just watch him."

Both parents are now desperate. Another doctor prescribes medication. On some occasions, the father spanks Frank, but nothing, absolutely nothing is working.

The parents realize that they have to watch their little son every waking moment; there's no telling what he will do. The father is doing just that one afternoon, looking out the window as he watches Frank in the swimming pool with his little sister Ruth. Suddenly, Frank comes up to Ruth, takes her by both shoulders, pushes her under the water and holds her there.

The father rushes out of the house, yelling at Frank. When he gets to the pool, Frank lets the terrified girl go and she huddles up against her father on the bank of the pool as Frank sits on the side of the pool, staring at them. To this day, the father tells us that his adult daughter is terrified of water and has never been swimming since that day. When the father asks, "Why?" Frank again says, "It's fun."

The load on Frank's parents is crushing. Every day, the mother says, is a hell on earth with their son. She's spiraling into depression. She goes to her church, sits in the pew in the empty auditorium and tells God that she can't take it anymore, not one more day.

As Frank gets older, he comes up with a new fascination: fire. He's a teenager now and he buys himself a police scanner, listening every day for calls about a fire. He takes his camera and photographs the fire trucks as they arrive. Sometimes, because of his scanner, he arrives at the burning site before the firemen do. Frank proudly shows his father the scrapbooks he's made of his pictures of fire trucks, fires, and firemen. His father notes that his son has thousands of pictures, all about fire.

Frank's father is in advertising and successfully so. As his children become adults, he hires his daughter Ruth as an employee in his agency. Then he calls his wife to tell her what he's done--thinking that one day Frank will inherit his business, he hires him as well. When he tells her the news, her heart sinks and in a few days, she learns that the sinking feeling was justified.

One day, she came to her husband's agency and as she was turning the corner in the building, there was Frank in the hallway with his sister Ruth pushed up against the wall and his hands are around her throat, choking her. She yells at him. He stops and walks past her. Calmly. Back to his office. He says nothing.

During this time, the parents notice that the slightest little nothing will send Frank into a rage--a pencil where it's not supposed to be, any little thing triggers Frank and he's in a white-hot rage.

Then, in Seattle, strange events start being reported on the local news and in the paper-someone is setting fires all over the city, not small ones, but big, out-of-control fires. Within a few months, an arsonist has set 74. Seattle is scared. One man whose house was set on fire says to the TV camera, "If I had caught him, I'd have killed him."

The father asks the mother, "Do you suppose Frank is doing this?" Then on the front page of the Seattle paper, a composite drawing of a suspect is published. The father is shocked: that picture looks like Frank. That's the article to which the old man was referring at the beginning of the program.

He shows the drawing to his wife; she concurs. It looks like Frank. They retreat to their bedroom. They face each other. They get down on their knees. The father prays for wisdom. He later tells us that as he got up, the answer came--they have to go to the police. He does and a few days later, Frank is under arrest.

The police video the interview with Frank as he confesses and they show it to his parents. The mother is heartsick because she hears and sees her son confessing as if what he's done is nothing. No emotion. No sorrow. All matter of fact. Nothing. Psychologists call it "flat affect." She's horrified.

As he goes to trial, the father gets on TV and apologizes to the city and tells them that they did all they could as Frank was growing up to prevent this--counseling, medication, punishment, but nothing worked.

His mom and dad console themselves with one thought, at least: no one died in all the 70+ fires. Then word comes; the police have tied Frank to setting a retirement home ablaze and a 92-year-old woman and one other lady burned to death. Frank's mother has a new hell to contend with: her son is responsible for the murder of a woman so old she couldn't even try to get out of the burning building. She imagines that woman's horror as the flames came nearer and nearer. Now the police charge Frank with two counts of murder.

At the sentencing, the judge is stern, telling Frank there is no way he can be turned loose in any community ever again. He gets a life sentence. He has sat through everything in the courtroom with an icy stare.

Every day his mother has awoken with a burdened and crushed heart. But then, she said, she woke up one morning and thought, "Something is different. It's not the same." She tells us, "God lifted the burden; He set me free and I praise him for it." She smiles through tears of joy.

His parents are old now. Because of what their son did, his father lost all of his clients, lost all of his friends, lost all of his savings accounts, and they lost their house. As the program concludes, the old man and the old woman are again sitting at the table. He takes her hand. He prays. With no rancor, with not a hint of bitterness, the old man thanks God for the opportunity they've had to tell their story, asking that in the telling, it will be of some help to those who heard. He concludes with, "In Jesus' name, we pray."

Our sins do not occur in a vacuum. They can hurt, ruin, and destroy. Frank goes to jail for the rest of his life. His father, mother, brother, and sister are scarred for the rest of theirs.