The tide of public opinion on abortion has ebbed dramatically over the past two years. On Friday, June 22, the Supreme Court handed down one of the most critical decisions in our lifetime: Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization. Forty-nine years of nationally enshrined abortion rights were pushed down to the states. The battle was not over, but had just begun. Pro-lifers who thought this was the beginning of a new pro-life era were in for a disappointment. The reaction from the pro-choice community was strong and their response led to a wave of support for their cause leaving many pro-lifers flat-footed.
Across the street from our home is the holiday house. You probably have one in your neighborhood. They go all out for every holiday. On Saturday, cars stacked up on the main road leading into the neighborhood as families drove by slowly, taking in the massive display that must have cost the owners thousands of dollars.
Last week I drove by a home whose Halloween decorations weren’t as massive or ostentatious, but the lawn display was undoubtedly the eeriest I’ve ever seen. A life-like severed head hung from a tree limb. A decapitated corpse with a visible spinal cord jutting out between slumped shoulders sat underneath.
In 2023, 46 horror movies were released. 75 million tickets were sold, and the industry made $798 million in domestic revenue alone. It’s been argued that horror movies remain a draw for many in the contemporary West because there is so little actual danger in most of our lives.
Atheist Steven Pinker in The Better Angels of Our Nature argues that we live in the most peaceful era of human existence: wars have decreased, human rights have expanded, and rates of starvation and lifespans have improved. Drawn to conflict, we now have access to global news coverage, which gives us the dopamine hit of feeling like we are in conflict.
What attracts us so much to the dark?
In the story of Swan Lake, a ballet by Russian composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, Prince Siegfried falls in love with Odette (who has been cursed by the evil magician, Von Rothbart), after happening upon her at the lake one night during a hunting trip. As a result of Von Rothbart's curse, Odette is human only at nightfall, for at daybreak she transforms into a swan. True and faithful love is the only thing that can break the curse, and Siegfried aims to marry Odette, proclaiming such love, at a ball his mother is throwing for his birthday.
In 2003, Bart Millard still mourning his father’s recent death, penned the lyrics for “I Can Only Imagine,” a song that would go on to be the most-played song in the history of Christian radio.
Can you imagine what heaven is going to be like?
There are lots of different views of heaven out there. A couple of decades ago a cottage industry developed, selling stories of those who said they had been to heaven while on death’s doorstep. We’re told of bright lights, lives re-played, and a warm glow. Others might daydream of harps and clouds, when asked to imagine heaven.
I love gardening. I love helping bring something to life, nurturing it, and watching it flourish.
I am not particularly great at gardening, though. Any improvement I’ve had has come through the school of hard knocks: a plant I put in the wrong soil, a plant placed in the incorrect amount of sunlight, or not giving a plant the right amount of water (my default is always that more must be better—it isn’t).
Relationships are like plants, aren’t they? They are fragile. They are challenging.
One of the many disappointing realities about the American political landscape is the lack of ownership. It’s not just politicians who shirk ownership – we all do. When my microphone sounds wonky, my mind immediately goes to the sound tech wondering if he will remedy his mistake, not to the more likely responsible party: myself. I probably moved the microphone or pulled the cord.
Of course we know that avoiding ownership usually backfires. Our esteem falls for those who dodge responsibility. But even still, the temptation to blame shift is strong in all of us.
Our son Soren is seventeen years old. And he doesn’t know how to ride his bike. I share this as a confession. Soren is more comfortable with this fact than I am. As parents, we feel responsible for equipping our kids for the world. But what does it mean to prepare our children for life? What does it mean to be a successful parent? When you think of it, the demands are overwhelming, isn’t it?
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