Album Review: Bob Dylan - "Shot of Love"

Despite being a Christian, I don’t listen to contemporary “worship music.” I find it bland and repetitive. If I don’t believe whoever wrote a pedestrian song was inspired, I can’t be inspired, either. Who knows if Bob Dylan is still a Christian today? Who knows if he truly was back then? After his three “Christian albums,” several songs for the following Infidels sessions were full of Christian, or at least Biblical, imagery: “Foot of Pride” and “Lord, Protect My Child” are well-known outtakes from that 1983 album, while “Man of Peace” actually made the cut; its chorus “sometimes Satan, you know he comes as a man of peace,” echoes a verse from 2 Corinthians: “Satan himself transforms himself into an angel of light.” The lead track, “Jokerman,” was packed with explicit Old Testament references, even if it seemed to be describing something else entirely. One could even argue that the pro-Israel “Neighborhood Bully” from Infidels was rooted in Dylan’s experience with the Bible, or just his own Jewish heritage, or maybe even both. Biblical imagery, however, would continue to appear in Dylan’s songs long after his faith became ambiguous, and had actually made appearances long before – “All Along the Watchtower” draws some of its words from the Old Testament book of Isaiah, chapter 21 (I’m serious – snoop around).

But as for identifying a reference to Scripture in a Bob Dylan song and laboring over it as a clue to the state of his faith when he wrote it, if any, is probably a fruitless exercise. Even the title of that first “post-Christian” album: Infidels. It could be a clue in itself. Or, it could mean nothing at all, just a little joke. And, before one reads too deeply into the words of “Death is Not the End” in 1988, in which “the bright light of salvation” and “where the spirit never dies” are hoped for, the caveat remains that a song’s narrator is not always reflective of the songwriter’s beliefs.
Whatever the truth is, the man is notorious for self-contradicting interviews that paint a frustratingly baffling portrait of the artist. He once famously said about the media, “I figured you lied to it.” To be fair, though, maybe we fans ought not have the right to be frustrated – it’s, in a way, none of our business what an artist’s personal beliefs are, unless they choose to splay them on record, film, or text. Sometimes it’s even best not to know: I can’t imagine the horror of being a young Billie Eilish and, upon instant stardom at age sixteen, being harangued by media and the public at large demanding to know your stances on abortion, feminism, wealth inequality, immigration, gender identity, and that cake store that refused to make a wedding cake for a same-sex couple.
These poor kids don’t even know where babies come from yet.

The burden of being a music star from whom many demand their life answers, the terror of being turned into a golden calf, must be unbearable, unless one just naturally enjoys spouting off their opinions. Bob Dylan no doubt felt this heavier than any major artist before or after him, even more than the Beatles. His beliefs, his thoughts, his views were his, though he was labeled a prophet and those views were adopted with force by his audience.

But, not to defend the demands of such rabid and dogmatic fans, relating to a poignant piece of art while not knowing if the one speaking such seemingly personal statements is being genuine, or if it’s just part of an ever-changing series of the artist’s gimmicks, can be frustrating. Even if, again, sometimes it’s none of our business.
Who knows what goes through Bob Dylan’s head anyway?

1981’s Shot of Love is the last, the hardest-rocking, and most accessible of Dylan’s trio of “Born-again” records that began in 1979, all of which were (and still are) widely criticized. I’ve met many non-believers who, despite not having a religious interest, nonetheless appreciate and gravitate toward the book of Job. There are many elements on Shot of Love that reflect that Old Testament figure’s rage and agony. The title track and “The Groom’s Still Waiting At the Altar” are the most musically ferocious things Dylan had done since “Hurricane.” The former finds Dylan decrying the “rape” of the Church and the declaration that “God is dead,” the latter an angry defense of those who “try to be pure at heart, they arrest you for robbery,” blasting those who “mistake your shyness for lewdness, your silence for snobbery.” “The Groom’s Still Waiting” could have easily fit on Highway 61 Revisited – imagine if The Band, or even just Levon Helm or Garth Hudson, had been in the lineup. “Property of Jesus” is exactly what the title suggests, except it’s much more rollicking and loose than any of the more stiff, underwhelming material on the previous Slow Train Coming and Saved. Its lyrics are moving and stark, the opposite of the kind of Christian music that simply doesn’t move me.

But it’s the gentler moments of this otherwise hard rocking album that are most effective, and find Dylan at his most self- reflective, and self-aware. On the gorgeous harmonica-laden ballad “In the Summertime,” he asks, seemingly his audience and his critics, and maybe himself,
Did you respect me for what I did
Or for what I didn’t do
Or for keeping it hid?
Did I lose my mind
when I tried to get rid
of everything you see?

A passage from the 139th Psalm declares, “where can I go from Your presence? If I ascend into the heavens, You are there; if I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.” It seems that way of thinking, that nothing is truly “secular,” as no song can hide from God, is being applied on songs that aren’t overtly “Christian,” like the genial “Heart of Mine” and the beautiful dirge “Lenny Bruce.” Other artists must have felt these tracks safe enough, as “Heart of Mine” features Ron Wood and Ringo Starr, and the Heartbreakers’ Benmont Tench plays keyboards throughout the album. On that note, it’s amazing to think that Slow Train Coming was produced by Jerry Wexler, who, when Dylan allegedly tried sharing his faith during the sessions, sighed and said, “Bob, you’re dealing with a sixty-two-year-old confirmed Jewish atheist. I’m hopeless. Let’s just make an album.” He proceeded to produce Bob to his first Grammy for “Gotta Serve Somebody,” a song John Lennon dubbed so offensively preachy that he responded with “Serve Yourself.”

Then there’s the ode to Lenny Bruce (1925-1966), the most controversial comedian of his time, and to many a martyr for the First Amendment. On almost any other Dylan album, the eulogy would settle inconspicuously in the track list, as Bruce was almost as much of an icon of 60s counterculture as Dylan and Abbie Hoffman. But when placed on an album identified as a Christian album, its inclusion is curious – at first. The lament is actually very fitting among the title track’s anguish and the bite of “Groom.” “Lenny Bruce” captures a sadness that comes from events in the “secular world” (wherever that is) processed through a faith that is mutually inclusive with inevitable feelings of heartbreak. The closing lyric
Lenny Bruce was bad
He was the brother that you never had
gives the listener a look through watery eyes at loss and waste, of a man dead too soon, even if that man was never the singer’s Christian “brother.”

If Dylan was aware his Christian era was, at least musically, coming to a close, there was no better song that could have rolled over the credits or a closing montage of savagely derisive press clippings than “Every Grain of Sand.” It ranks among “Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands,” “Buckets of Tears,” and “Roll On John” as one of the greatest closing tracks to a Dylan album. Even if he has truly eschewed his faith in Christ since the early 80s, he wrote a realistic and heart-wrenching look at the whole idea of faith that’s topped only by King David’s most anguished but hopeful Psalms. Again, being so emotionally gritty, it’s not the kind of contemporary music played in many churches. An even more stunning, rougher early version of the song is available on The Bootleg Series, Vol. 3. “Every Grain of Sand” encapsulates “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (that’s a Bible verse).

I guess you’d just have to have experienced for yourself the beautiful insanity of faith to identify with the poetry in this song. Or, maybe you just have to be someone with a lot of hope, whose hope wrestles daily with a lot of pain. As Dostoevsky once wrote, “my Hosanna has passed through a furnace of doubt.”

-from the book Rocktology Exam: Classic Rock's Hidden Gems

Religion vs. Being a Good Person

In discussions about why a person needs or doesn't need religion, the point is often brought up that, "you don't need religion to be a good person." This is absolutely true.

I don't speak for other faiths, but I was abundantly relieved when I learned the focus of Christianity was not to "become a good person," or even a "better" person. The aim of Christianity is to take dirty rotten sinners like myself and sanctify them in Jesus Christ. Its purpose is not to turn its adherents into Mr. Rogers, or even Mother Teresa. If becoming a nicer person was the goal in receiving Jesus, I would have long ago found a different religion, like Scientology or Republicanism: I know I could never attain such an enlightened state of niceness. It works out tremendously well for me that the only qualification I needed to come to Jesus was to be a broken sinner.

The center of Christianity is the acceptance of Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior; to be refined, re-defined, and sanctified by His truth in an unbelieving, fallen world. We are restored to peace with God and a relationship with Him through Jesus' death and resurrection. This is Christianity. Kindness and charity are certainly among His commandments, but they are not simply a means to an end, that end being "becoming a good person." And, even if one abides in Christ's commandments of love, compassion, and selflessness to the utmost devoutness, another of His commands is to spread His Gospel - which requires proclaiming and demonstrating He is the only way, truth, and life, a statement that grates and appalls many others. To many secular mindsets, this is not "being a good person."

Though one can be an atheist and a charitable and loving human being (atheism and kindness are not mutually exclusive, obviously), these ideas and concepts of compassion come only from God, from a Higher Power: we human beings have proved in our existence that we are incapable of any sustained amount of goodness. And, not being so deluded that I could become a good person without tremendous help, I accept that I need the love and strength of the only blameless Man who ever lived if I hope to approach righteousness.

My hat goes off to those who can muster being good, decent, honorable people by their own inherent, genetic powers of goodness, decency, and honor. But I know I'm not that strong or noble; my weakness in those areas is so egregious that I need something as outrageous as the supernatural to be holy. The Christ - the "religion" - I need in order to achieve this says it thusly: "I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance" (Luke 5:32).

"Do not enter into judgment with Your servant, for in Your sight no one living is righteous." -Psalm 143:2

Album Review: Bob Dylan - "Self Portrait"

Bob Dylan - Self Portrait (1970)

Nothing is sacred.
In 1966, Bob Dylan was a god to a generation. Or, at the very least, a prophet. By 1970 and a cover of “Blue Moon,” those who called him such were ready to stone him to death and tear him to pieces.
Self Portrait is not “lost” or forgotten. Not by any means. In fact it's one of the most infamous records in twentieth century popular music. Its infamy comes from the bombardment of scorn and accusations of betrayal its creator suffered because of the material contained therein. Not to make Bob Dylan sound like a cartoon villain whose plans have gone awry, but...
...maybe that was the plan all along.

It would border on asinine to suggest Dylan concocted Self Portrait to sabotage his entire career. Even as far-out as the man has stretched his image in his career through his various moods and personas – a torchbearer for Woody Guthrie, electric rock and roller, country crooner, wandering face-painted gypsy, Christian preacher, and most recently, torchbearer for Frank Sinatra – the thought that he meant to end his public life with this purposely uncharacteristic album is absurd. Self Portrait was more like, as hokey and cliché as it sounds, a statement. It was an artistic move, and a brave one at that, knowing the backlash he'd receive would make the boos hurled upon him when he “went electric” seem like a playful chiding.

Released as a sprawling, twenty-plus track double album in 1970, Self Portrait was condemned by both reviewers and fans, who were shocked that the spokesman of their generation was crooning harder than he had on Nashville Skyline. But instead of acceptable country music, he was now covering the Everly Brothers, Simon and Garfunkel, Gordon Lightfoot, and a slew of other borrowed material, both obscure and well known, all with a distinctly commercial polish – save for a few raggedly performed live tracks with The Band from the previous year's Isle of Wight concert –  that had the anti-establishment up in arms and pulling out the beads in their hair. The reaction, or fallout, to Self Portrait saw critics claiming Dylan had turned his back on his principles – whatever those were. Congrats to the lucky buggers who had somehow managed to crack Dylan's moral code. They asserted the Bard was indulging in a “commercialization” of his music; critic Ralph Gleason was seething, and even called for a boycott of Dylan's albums.
The heart of the entire matter may lie in Dylan's growing discontent with being hailed as a leader; in a biography by Anthony Scaduto, Dylan was quoted about this experience:

“I wasn't going to fall for that, for being any kind of leader... and because I wanted out, they all started to rap me.” 

And that's what makes this album so perversely enjoyable. Didn't Bob Dylan tell us not to follow leaders in the first place?
Dylan's famous “motorcycle accident” in 1967 has been the subject of debate, not unlike most other facet's of his public and private life. Did it even really happen? Or was it an alibi to allow him to escape to the woods of upstate New York and hide from his followers? Whatever one believes, the subsequent lack of touring was made up for with an incredibly productive and prolific period in a basement in a big pink house in Saugerties with four-fifths of The Band, known as the "Basement Tapes." Even before their double-album release in 1975 (and even that was just scratching the surface of the load of material), the recordings were heavily bootlegged and had reached legendary status, many of the songs having already been covered by some top names. But the songs were not what they had been on Blonde On Blonde or The Times They Are A-Changin'. They were far from social protests; they were backwoods mumbo jumbo, nonsense that somehow made sense. Some had distinct messages – “Tears of Rage,” “Going To Acapulco” – others were head-scratchers that still somehow meant something – “Too Much of Nothing,” “You Ain't Going Nowhere.”
However one interprets those legendary dozens of songs, they were certainly the result of an artist in retreat, reshaping his craft, consciously or otherwise.

Dylan's next official release was John Wesley Harding in 1967, a deep album that left behind much of the electricity he'd been skewered for and out-folked his folkiest songs. On the record, listeners heard Dylan's voice begin to change. The change was subtle, but it was there. By the next year's full-blown country endeavor Nashville Skyline, Dylan's prominent nose was doing the vocal work. The album took the music world by surprise. Rolling Stone, the Village Voice Recorder, and everyone who was still with Dylan after the mysteries of John Wesley Harding collectively reacted, “wh... um... okay, yeah. Cool. Country voice. Johnny Cash. We'll allow it.”
Then, in June 1970, it happened. Like a double-disc Pearl Harbor attack of pedal steel ballads, prominent string sections, and angelic background singers, Self Portrait lives in infamy.

The title suggested the album would resemble some kind of personal diary, but it was anything but. That is, if one expected a portrait resembling the sour-faced Bob Dylan from the cover of The Times They Are-a Changin.' As reflected on the cover of this album, literally painted by the man himself, this Dylan had a face beyond recognition.

  There was a touch of Woody Guthrie or Johnny Cash-like folk in “Little Sadie,” and “Days of '49,” but the absolutely Burt Bacharach-ish “Bell Isle” blew away any chance of redemption to the critics. The two records were filled with infamously dogged but... well, bizarrely enchanting covers of “Early Morning Rain,” “Blue Moon,” “Let it Be Me,” and an exquisite, if eyebrow-raising version of “I Forgot More Than You'll Ever Know.” Songs like these, and “Take a Message to Mary,” “Copper Kettle,” and “Take Me As I Am (Or Let Me Go)” (which is easy, but likely erroneous, to interpret as a thinly veiled message to the critics) were absolutely commercial. They were songs that could have been lip-synced on The Ed Sullivan Show by “Sink the Bismarck”/"North To Alaska" singer-songwriter Johnny Horton, had Horton been alive.

The thought made Bob Dylan's self-appointed disciples gag.

Most infamous of the tall stack of covers, the single track on Self Portrait that drew the most guffaws and groans was Dylan's duet with himself on a double-tracked recording of Simon & Garfunkel's “The Boxer,” sung with honky-tonk croon to boot. But Dylan had every right to cover a song by the folk duo in any way he wanted. After all, he invented their job, if only fortuitously – spokespersons of their generation. Critics begged for someone to assure them it was a joke. That this was avant-garde high art they didn't understand. That Dylan had an inoperable brain tumor that affected his judgment. The decision to include the live Isle of Wight tracks was baffling, but perhaps most telling in their poorly recorded and performed state. Perhaps Dylan's most identifiable, iconic song, “Like a Rolling Stone,” presented in such a haggard performance, he and The Band staggering through it, uncharacteristically jumbled, was too out of place not to be a calculated message.

But, statement though the album may have been, it still sounds like the Bard is having fun throughout. As with most Dylan records, a load of outtakes from Self Portrait have been released, and he sounds as carefree and jubilant as someone just happy to be recording an album. If the “back off” statement theory is correct, if this album really was Dylan's message to the masses to denounce or discourage their view of him as their prophet and leader, it sounds like he was having a blast making that message, rather than brooding in self-pity and loathing for the public. Consider it Bob Dylan's own experience of Stage Fright; his former backing group and proteges The Band released the album of that name the same year, their reaction to the dregs of being made public figures. But it only took them two years to reach that disillusion, while Dylan had endured a decade of it. And while The Band's reaction to the rigor of the music business and demands of public perception was to produce a record with a darker energy than their first two albums, their former employer's reaction had been to have a ball while his worshipers writhed in disappointment.

Given the scurrilous attacks the album generated, it's interesting to consider that Self Portrait is not generally regarded as Dylan's worst album; I nominate 1986's Knocked Out Loaded for that dubious honor, while many critics enjoy picking on Down in the Groove. It can only be the mythos surrounding Self Portrait, the legend and notoriety of it all that keep it from being ostracized in hindsight.

All the talk of statements and defiance on Dylan's part may be just romantic wishful thinking. Maybe he'd simply made a gross error in judgment and made a bad album. He would make a few stiffs in his lifetime. But even so, Self Portrait might have been the best thing to happen to Dylan at this point in his career, and maybe even his personal life. If only for the sake of his sanity. The album would leave a permanent footnote to his already puzzling and complex mythology, an exception and a caution to those who had exalted him as an all-knowing seer, holy and blameless in all his ways.
However one interprets the album – mistake or memorial – it has to be said that Self Portrait, with all of the debris left in its nasal, string-caked, mushy wake, is a testament to how quickly a generation's hero can be stabbed in the back. Even if Dylan was the one who handed his generation the knife.
But, it was also a testament to how quickly a hero can be forgiven for his sins, so long as the public is pleased. Dylan's following album, New Morning, saw Rolling Stone declare, “we've got Dylan back again!” The songs were serious, deeper, explorations of the domestic life he'd finally attained with his family, and, they were originals. Even the honky-tonk croon was slowly wearing off. It's just a theory, but maybe Self Portrait had to happen for the fickle critics to get Dylan back again. What could have been the next possible move after the country and borderline novelty of Nashville Skyline? A sudden return to social anthems? It would have been dead on arrival – dueting with Johnny Cash would have cast a pall over a new, scowling song referring to Vietnam or Nixon. And, if Dylan had skipped the spectacle that was Self Portrait and gone straight into the laid back, thoughtful role of "Pa" in New Morning, the public would have been just as confused, asking, “why isn't the prophet prophesying? He's singing about having kids and meeting Elvis. He's sold out!”

Rolling Stone "got Dylan back again" in 1971, but maybe the flogging he received with Self Portrait was a necessary step to Dylan getting Dylan back again.

-from my book Rocktology Exam: Classic Rock's Hidden Gems

Thoughts on War By a Man Rejected By the Navy For His Refusal To Shower Until Tampa Bay Wins Another Super Bowl

If you grew up during the 90s like I did (where mah 33-year-olds at?!), you grew up hearing and seeing "the cowboys and Arabs draw down on each other at noon" in the background noise and visuals on the news. In my experience, there was always a voice, be it on the TV or the living room, declaring that the latest scuffle between the West and the Middle East would lead to World War III. Thus far, it hasn't happened. Operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm in 1990-91 were brief expulsions of Iraq from Kuwait, and when another, far bigger, all-out war began in 2003 with the US invasion of Iraq, it was far from a "world war," as a surprising number of nations refused to join the coalition. Yet, to this day, each US brush with a foreign power leads many to declare a Third World War, or a nuclear holocaust, is imminent, outdoing the bellowing doom and gloom of even the sweatiest of Baptist preachers.

As I write this, the United States and Iran are in a very tense standoff that could easily escalate to an actual war. Last week, US airstrikes in Iraq killed Iranian military commander Qasem Soleimani. Iran has since vowed that its retaliation will involve military force.

Social media being the good and bad that it is, is alight with both fervent support and vehement condemnation of a war with Iran. Long before Facebook and Twitter were tools to vent our ideologies, there have been hawks who believe all war is good and right (especially the ones involving their own countries), and doves who believe all war is evil. I find it very unwise to belong to either side. Though my Christianity is itself a blanket ideology, the Bible warns of knee-jerk reactions as they relate to worldly matters - "He who answers a matter before he hears it, it is shame and folly to him" (Proverbs 18:13). Chris Rock once said as much: "anybody who makes up his mind about an issue before he hears the issue is a fool."

There are many Christians who believe the New Testament teaches outright pacifism and rejection of war. Some even go further and claim this extends to any form of violence, even self-defense. While I've never been able to glean those things from my own study of the New Testament, I do believe that the Bible condemns unjust war, just as it condemns any unjust, immoral thing from those in positions of power.
Having said that, I don't believe all war is good, but I also don't believe all war is evil.

I have a strong belief that those who aren't very knowledgeable in history have no place being politically and socially vocal, especially the more rabid among those voices, whether they be conservative, liberal, moderate, etc. (though they certainly have a right to be so brazen if they choose). I believe that the more vocal one is about their socio-political beliefs, that lustiness should be on par with their historical knowledge. Otherwise, their talking points are merely rehearsed snippets that fit their narrative, while in the context of the history surrounding whatever the issue may be, the talking point may prove completely irrelevant, or even contradict itself.

There are times in history where going to war was the right thing to do - even if the soldiers sent to fight it were sent by rich men safe behind desks in palaces. I believe Britain going to war with Germany over the latter's invasion of Belgium to get to France, violating Belgian neutrality, was the right thing to do. However, I believe Britain's violation of Greece's neutrality later that same war, was the wrong thing to do. I can cite the folly of the "ally system" in hurling Europe into such a senseless chaos. In not relegating myself to anti or pro war dogmas, I can see right and wrong even in single wars as a whole - and can see hidden motives in otherwise "good" motives.
I also recognize times when those men safe in palaces who sent soldiers to fight were in the wrong. I believe it was wrong for Leopoldo Galtieri to dispatch thousands of Argentine conscripts to invade the Falkland Islands, all to take his troubled nation's attention off of his own regime's corruption and incompetence (a time-tested way to win over your nation; just a tip, in case you ever find yourself a president or dictator and your economy is going down the toilet). Therefore, Britain's retaliation, sending its military task force to rid the islands of the Argentine invaders, who were going house to house and holding British citizens at gunpoint, was the right thing to do.
One must always look at each war individually, if you can find and count them all, and look at the reasons, the results, the maneuvers, the leaders, and a slew of other factors before making their judgment. Being all for or all against war limits one's ability to do this, and the ability to be objective. No matter how loud we talk, facts remain facts, even if they don't fit our agendas upon closer inspection.

So, believing one must be historically and contextually knowledgeable about the war one chooses to defend or oppose, and believing war as an institution is neither wholly good nor wholly evil, my position on a possible war between the United States and Iran is:

I don't know what my position is. I haven't yet made up my mind.

Among the reasons is my minimal knowledge of the Iranian influence in Iraq. I know it's been "a thing" for some time now, but I have little information or facts on which to base my opposition or support - unless I choose to base them on the same three-sentence snippets from social media posts. I'm actually ashamed to say that before last week, I had no idea who Qasem Soleimani was. I know, I missed the Qasem Soleimani bandwagon. He was a household name. Posters of his face adorned the walls of every teenage girl in Iran. But alas, I'm ignorant. If I had more knowledge of Soleimani and his history, and of Iran-Iraq affairs beyond 2003, only then could I invoke a pro or anti reaction. But, as it is, I need time to glean more information before I can declare the war - if it comes to that - to be a right or wrong move. And, only as events unfold, events I cannot predict, can I declare certain actions during that war to be good or bad.

As for the idea of "supporting the troops," I find it to be a dangerously nationalistic idea, just as dangerous as supporting all war. If I disagree with the troops' mission, how can I support the soldiers who voluntarily join the military who fights it? Doing such would be akin to opposing nude dancing while declaring that I support the strippers. If I support the war, I support the troops. If I'm against the war, I cannot logically claim I support the troops.

If one rejects the impulsive reactions borne of pro-war or anti-war ideologies, one must accept that they may wrestle with the right or wrong of some wars for years after they're over. For example, the Iraq War has been over for nearly a decade, and I'm still undecided on whether or not I believe going to Iraq was the right thing for the US to do. I also have to admit my bias, in that I have a brother who served two tours there, and several friends who did as well, and I'm afraid any denunciation would be a betrayal to them. The silver lining however is that by rejecting strict ideological blankets, I can see my own bias, and acknowledge how it might affect my judgment, which allows me to keep quiet or disqualify myself from making a judgment or even forming an opinion. (Despite our society being more opinionated than ever, and having the means to compulsively voice our thoughts to thousands at a time, remember this: it's okay not to have an opinion.)

I believe the Vietnam War was utterly pointless. But in saying so, I have the cringing feeling inside that I'm calling the service of those fought the war to be pointless. I don't want such gall as to preach to a veteran, who knows more about life and death than I can fathom, about my self-professed knowledge of history and my precious ideology - even if that veteran agrees with me.
Speaking of the soldiers who do the actual fighting, if I do find myself in support of a certain war, I must have no delusion that those on the fields and in the trenches are singing patriotic songs at night and shouting "For George, Queen and Country!" before an assault. Even if one supports a war effort, one would be foolish to forget that the soldiers who fight it are often scared, miserable, hungry, and wondering just what the war they're fighting is all about. Their opinion on the war, be it pro or con, will always, as my personal rule, outweigh any thoughts of yours or mine. My advice to anyone who does support all war, other than "stop it!," is to keep in mind that the soldiers who are fighting in your place aren't always as gung-ho about the situation as you are. No matter how well-worded our quotes from MSNBC or Fox News may be.

The shortest war story ever written was penned by an anonymous American Civil War veteran. It is only three sentences: "A bunch of us went to Gettysburg. Some of us never came back. If you weren't there, you'll never understand."

PS Go Tampa Bay. There's always next year. #BucsNation

"I was traveling with my family in the Mideast late one night
The hotel hall was quiet, the kids were out like little lights
Then the street was filled with jeeps
There was an explosion to the right
They chanted Death To America!
I was feeling like a fight..."
-Neil Young

Thoughts on President Trump's Impeachment

Everyone at least twenty-one years old upon reading this has the distinction of being alive during the impeachments of two United States Presidents - Bill Clinton in 1998, and last week, Donald Trump. In 1998, one would have had to look back one hundred-thirty years for the most recent, and first ever, impeachment of a President, when Andrew Johnson was given the dubious distinction in 1868.
We should probably address that word "impeach" - we shouldn't have to, but there are legions of politically vocal people who still don't understand what it means to be impeached. Impeachment is the act of bringing formal charges against an official; it does not mean removal from office. The Senate can vote to acquit or convict, and in the case of conviction, removal from office is the result. Neither Johnson's nor Clinton's case resulted in their removal.

President Richard Nixon was not impeached - he resigned from office in 1974, before articles of impeachment could be formally brought against him (though they were certainly far in the works). Again, this shouldn't have to be explained, but the internet's abundance of politically passionate people who know talking points but not history make it necessary before I express my thoughts on another impeachment.

Speaking of Nixon and history, in hindsight we know that behind the scenes he was cracking under pressure. Those closest to him at the time say he was drinking more, behaving erratically, was paranoid, and losing his composure. Nixon was not the most socially comfortable of individuals, but even for an awkward loner like him, his behavior in the White House was disconcerting for the likes of Alexander Haig and Henry Kissinger. The oft-parodied moment in which Nixon asked Kissinger to get on his knees and pray with him in the Oval Office is where I see the difference between Nixon and Trump - desperation.

Though it's easy for a showman like Trump, who was a television and media veteran long before he entered the White House, to put on a show of total confidence, I don't believe his arrogant defiance of the charges against him, and those who drafted them, is a mask. Trump is a natural celebrity, whereas Nixon, for all the power and publicity of his political career, never adjusted to the spotlight. Trump relishes it.

Nixon made grandiose excuses for his actions, and for his obstruction - "national security," "political containment," "executive privilege," etc. He was also strategic enough to let his aides and speechwriters do most of the PR. Trump however has taken to Twitter, because of course he has, and other outlets to lash out at his opponents. Granted, there was no Twitter in the 1970s, but more camera-ready Presidents had taken to television in moments of controversy - John F. Kennedy addressing and defending the admittance of two black students to the University of Alabama, and even the less charming Lyndon Johnson was almost a TV staple during the Vietnam War. If Donald Trump had been President during the Nixon era, he would have been in every American's living room via television (and in an age where there were three channels, all of which were taken up when the President had a speech to make).

Americans would have missed every episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show thanks to Trump's plethora of TV interruptions.

You may be asking yourself why I'm comparing Nixon and Trump when the former wasn't even impeached. The reason is because Nixon's scandal was perhaps the most detrimental to the American public and its government until 2019. Bill Clinton's affair with an intern and subsequent perjury were heavy matters, but somehow it was business as usual outside of the scandal. Issues within and without the United States were handled with as much vigor as if there had been no trouble at home. For all the seriousness of Clinton's perjury, the sexual overtones and the jokes of it made by endless comedians almost made it feel like a TMZ farce. Which is a shame, given the severity of that situation, but it's not the only political scandal whose implications were unfortunately reduced to comedy (re: the rash of "Epstein didn't kill himself" memes).

In this case, it's not necessarily President Trump's actions involving Ukraine that have consumed the nation, but rather the man himself. He's been on every thinking American's mind at least twice a day from the moment he announced his candidacy and the endless array of controversies and scandals that followed, even before he was elected. Trump is a scandal in himself; everything he does, says, touches, immediately receives notoriety or infamy, like a morbid version of King Midas. Even if one adores him, they can't deny that he is the single most controversial person in the world today, and has been so for over five years. Donald Trump the man is the biggest Presidential scandal since Watergate, overshadowing even Reagan's Contra affair in the 1980s.

The biggest, and most important difference, I see between Nixon and Trump is that Nixon had a moral compass. He didn't seem to use it much, but he had one, and much like having a conscience but not using it, doing wrong while knowing it's wrong can eventually get to a person. Nixon's crumbling and downfall showed this. He would even later admit, albeit not to the degree disappointed Americans wanted, that he made mistakes and misled the nation.

Nixon's resignation was another act of cracking under pressure. In order for him to do so, his psyche had to be manipulated by the closest members of his staff and inner circle so that he would believe the resignation was his decision - as if to say, "you didn't break up with me - I broke up with you."  Such was the state of Nixon's mind at the time, he had to be cajoled into believing it wasn't really the Senate that was taking him out of office, it was him and him alone.

Trump, meanwhile, doesn't need to be manipulated. He truly seems to believe he's done no wrong, and further, doesn't seem to be able to comprehend why he's in trouble in the first place. Whether it's demagoguery or just an inflated ego I'm not sure. But actions speak louder than even the most mealy mouthed of Tweets, and Trump either doesn't comprehend intellectually why he's in this situation, or he genuinely believes he is above the law. To him, the impeachment is a witch hunt, a conspiracy, the act of desperate losers to spite with pettiness what he has literally called "the most successful Presidency" of all time.

Nixon made his accusations, too - Watergate was a witch hunt, and in his increasing paranoia, a huge conspiracy calculated solely against him. But his actions showed that he understood the gravity of his actions. Whereas Trump simply doesn't appear to comprehend them.

Since his election, I'd always surmised that if Donald Trump were to ever face impeachment, were to actually be impeached, or simply land in a situation he couldn't get out of, he would resign from office. I wasn't alone in expecting him to immediately, or inevitably, land in trouble. The reason I expected him to resign and bolt was the memory of how his once-hit reality show The Apprentice reached its end - the same day NBC announced it was canceling the show, Trump announced he was leaving the show. Again a case of "you didn't break up with me - I broke up with you." But unlike Nixon, Trump probably didn't need to be manipulated into thinking it. He seemed to truly believe it.

If revelations of using campaign funds as hush money to a porn star mistress didn't budge Trump, neither will this impeachment, or the circumstances that caused it. I should have known from the Stormy Daniels affair, or from the recordings of Trump boasting that he'd sexually assaulted women, that nothing seems to affect this man's outlook, nor that of his more dogmatic supporters. Granted, I don't know the man. Not that that matters, as I certainly never knew Nixon, Clinton, or Andrew Johnson; but in those cases, we have the lessons and evidence of history to give us a glimpse into their minds during their respective troubles.

With Trump, all I can do is analyze what I see, and what the man himself says. And I see and hear a man devoid of both the ability to see himself in any negative light, and of the wherewithal to understand he's breached serious protocol. To Trump, the protocol either doesn't exist - "a sham" - or it simply doesn't apply to him. Other politicians in hot water may have stated such ridiculous things in their own crises, but inside, they knew better. President Trump does not.

In the legal battle that follows, that mindset will either be his downfall, or it will somehow rescue him.

"Last night, 
I saw the fire spreading to the palace door
The silent majority
Weren't keeping quiet anymore."
-John Fogerty

New novel, "Theodora" - Just a story about a kid who's hurting

I've written a novel, which you can check out here. It's not a political statement; just a story about a kid who's hurting and feels like nobody cares.

Theo Davis sees a counselor for body dysmorphic disorder. She insists her nose is "freakishly huge," and that it's not in her head. When her best friend is killed in a school shooting that stuns her small Nebraska town, her mental health begins to rapidly decline; Theo spirals into depression, anxiety, confusion, and anger, her grief more than she can handle. When she resorts to self-harm, breaking her own nose, Theo is sent to a mental hospital, where she meets teens just like her - in pain, lost, and wondering what it really means to "grow up." She learns the other patients' stories and becomes determined to show them, in the midst of her own pain, that those stories - their lives - are more important than they realize.

The Time I Said Martin Luther Should Burn in Hell Because He Hated Jews

Perhaps the most misunderstood, misused, distorted piece of the entire Bible is Jesus' words, "Do not judge." Many of us who are indignant when someone calls out our questionable or outright ugly deeds are quick to pull these words from our hip pockets, thinking they mean, "don't point out that I'm doing something morally wrong or destructive, because you're not God."
The trouble is, when Jesus instructed us not to "judge," He is not referring to rebuking someone for doing something wrong. If that were so, each of us as believers would be rendered hypocrites each time we bring attention to the President's or some other politician's morally vile deeds and lies. We draw arbitrary lines as to which sins are okay to denounce, and which are not - usually, the line is drawn in front of our own sins, to protect ourselves from criticism and conviction. The Bible plainly teaches us what is right and wrong in God's eyes, that we are to abhor what is evil, and even rebuke a brother or sister should they fall into such behaviors, so long as the plank of hypocrisy doesn't blind our ability to discern.

The "judgment" Jesus condemns among believers is actual judgment - one day, all of us will stand before the Great White Throne of Christ to answer for all things we've done, good or bad (2 Corinthians 5:10). A fact that should delight no Christian, but rather grieve them, is that the unsaved and unrepentant will be sentenced to eternal damnation (Daniel 12:2, Revelation 20:11-15).
Only Christ has the authority to make these judgments and pronounce these sentences; for a human being to declare that someone else should go to hell for their deeds is to try and usurp His righteous judgment, His authority - and His alone - to pronounce punishment.

After all, all of us deserve death, but God gave His Son so that those who accept Him will, by His grace, be saved (John 3:16).

This is what Jesus forbids when He forbids judging another - to declare, "you're going to hell; you're beyond redemption; Jesus' blood is not powerful enough to save you."

I've known this for years, and have been deeply irked when people shriek the words "don't judge me!" when confronted with some unrepentant behavior that goes against God's Word. I've written many things on this subject, harping about it and beating my breast with indignation.
However - gasp - I, a fallible human being stumbled in lack of understanding, committing the very same sin for which I so often denounced others.

2017 marked the 500th anniversary of the Protestant Reformation, of which Martin Luther was a pivotal figure. Were it not for God's use of this man, many more would still be misled by the mire of man-made rituals and lies concerning Jesus, the Scripture, the Church. Not that man-made rituals, doctrines of men taught as if they were commandments of God, don't still frustrate the faith of many who seek Jesus. But God used Martin Luther (and countless other heroes of the Church, like John Wycliffe, William Tyndale, John Foxe, to name but a few) in an upheaval of human greed in God's name.

In 2017, my church group began a several weeks-long study of the Luther and the Reformation. Aside from John Foxe's Book of Martyrs, I knew relatively little about many of the heroes of Christian history. So, I did some research on Martin Luther and

gooooood GASH!!!

I was surprised and mortified to find that Luther, for all the truth and wisdom he spoke, for the mighty vessel he had been in the Reformation, was an unrepentant anti-Semite. He held a disdain for Jews, encouraged their fiery persecution, and, though he originally wrote a book aimed at Jews to show them that Jesus was the Messiah for whom they'd waited, he later gave up and wrote an entire book called On the Jews and Their Lies. That's not something I learned in my church group's study. I felt a portrait of a man abundantly superior to other sinners saved by grace had been painted; of all people who should have known that hatred of Jews is wrong, it would be someone who knew the Bible well - someone who had literally translated it!

I went to my one of my fellow Christians, bewildered, asking "what gives?!" I felt a bit dismissed when he replied with a link to an article from The Gospel Coalition that described many other noted theologians who did awful things. But I still felt shocked; I could accept that Martin Luther was a racist - no one, no matter how many mighty works God gives them to do, is infallible. God uses awful people to speak truth and do mighty things all the time (such as yours truly, who - after being saved and having the knowledge that it was wrong - once stole money from my friend's son's piggy bank to buy an ice cream sandwich; and trust me, that's nowhere near the worst thing I've done in my stumbling and backsliding during my walk with Christ). Nonetheless, I felt that Martin Luther's terrible deeds concerning the Jews should be brought to believers' attention in studies of the man, to show how wrong he was, to avoid turning him into an idol against whom no one should speak ill, and to demonstrate, again, that even the mightiest of people are prone to wrong.

After ruminating on the whole thing, I told myself a sad and horrible truth - or what I decided was a truth: Martin Luther, the great teacher of God, will be sentenced to eternal damnation on the Day of Judgment. As someone who encouraged the burning of synagogues, he was, I decided, a ravenous wolf in sheep's clothing. He was the epitome of those described by Jesus in Matthew 7 - those who prophesy, cast out demons, and do many wonders in His name, but who never truly knew Him.

I harbored this feeling for almost two years. My resentment grew deeper toward many Christians whose reverence for the figures of the Reformation is so fervent it's akin to idol worship.

Sometimes, you can read a Bible passage a hundred times, know it by heart, but not truly grasp every jewel of truth it has for us. I'd read Jesus' "Sermon on the Mount" countless times. I'd written and spoken endless diatribes on the true meaning of "judging" and what it entails. But it wasn't until yesterday, quite literally, that I realized I had been judging Martin Luther in a most sinful way.

My judgment of Luther was not in my disappointment and shock that he was an anti-Semite. If I didn't have that feeling of disappointment, what kind of person would I be? Rather, my judgment of Martin Luther was what I'd told myself about his eternal fate; my sin of judgment was that I'd decided he should and will spend eternity in weeping and gnashing of teeth because of his unrepentant hatred.

I, too, declare Jesus' name and the salvation He offers to all people. And I, too, struggle with an abundance of sinful behaviors. I tell myself, "at least I know my sins are wrong; at least I want to do better." But my own righteousness is, as Isaiah 64:6 tells me, filthy rags. I have no right, no wisdom near suitable enough to decide Martin Luther's punishment for condemning Jews. Just as he would have had no right or righteousness near approachable to God's perfection to declare that I should go to hell for the slew of terrible deeds I've done in my life.

There are no doubt countless examples of people who we can observe and study and be certain that that person will not see heaven - the go-to examples of human evil being people like Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, and etc. But there's a vast difference between knowing evil must be punished, and knowing evil can only be punished by God. If He is the only One righteous and perfect who could cleanse us of sin, He is also the only One righteous and perfect to fit the role of assigning our fates and consequences of those sins.

Like Martin Luther, like all of us, I deserve hell. But by the promise and sacrifice of Jesus the Son of God, I've been delivered from that eternal terror. Luther knew this, too. I can rant all I want that he also knew racism to be wrong, that he knew that a Christian who reviles is a Christian to be avoided (1 Corinthians 1 5:9-13). But I, who must adjust my heart, mind, and body to the Holy Scriptures, also know, by the grace of God who softened this sinful skull so that I would understand, that my sentence of Martin Luther to damnation was gross hypocrisy. May it be burned up and remembered no more at my own appearance before Christ:

"For no other foundation can anyone lay than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now if anyone builds on this foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw, each one's work will become clear; for the Day will declare it, because it will be revealed by fire; and the fire will test each one's work, of what sort it is. If anyone's work which he has built on it endures, he will receive a reward. If anyone's work is burned, he will suffer loss; but he himself will be saved, yet so as through fire." -1 Corinthians 3:11-15