Tag Archives: olympics

Fake Palm Trees

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If you’ve ever been to my office, then you know I have a palm tree. Jennifer bought it for me as a Christmas gift last year. It’s fake, of course, mainly because I’m no horticulturist. Even a cactus will see me coming and take its own life. Nevertheless, real or fake, the tree rises from my office’s corner, a few of its frons reaching toward and over my desk. I like it. It looks real enough for its purpose, which is to help with the winter doldrums.

I wrote a few years ago in an AngelsPortion.com post about wanting to grow a live palm tree here in Michigan. If you’re interested, you can read about it here. I researched the different kinds, eventually learning there is one capable of withstanding occasionally colder climates. Unfortunately, in this case, natural law reestablished itself. For starters, a palm tree that can withstand occasionally colder climates is not the same as one that can withstand cold climates. Occasionally colder and regularly cold are two very different things. The former assumes more warmth than chill. The latter understands the opposite. Michigan is not just occasionally colder than places like Florida. It’s cold, and it can be so for long periods—as many as eight months. I think the way I described it in the post was that snow does not exist in Michigan; instead, Michigan exists in snow.

I grew up in central Illinois. It gets cold there. It has snow, too. I read C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe as a kid, and I’ve since reread it to my children as an adult in Michigan. There is the following moment in the volume between Mr. Tumnus and Lucy, which reads:

“It is winter in Narnia,” said Mr. Tumnus, “and has been for ever so long….”

As a kid, I don’t remember reading that line and thinking, “Ugh, just like Illinois.” Maybe that’s because I thought a lot differently about winter as a child. I can assure you I absolutely do remember reading the story to my son, Joshua, and thinking, “Narnia must be located somewhere here in Michigan.”

I won’t drone on about this anymore. You already know my love affair with summer. Relative to real and fake palm trees, however, there is at least something to be mined from my complaint. Maybe think of it this relatively simple way.

A human with XY chromosomes, even as he may suffer characteristics or physical abnormalities that make him appear feminine, is a male, and as is usually the case, his baseline capabilities native to his chromosomal standard, if left to develop, will prove predominant. In the same way, a human with XX chromosomes, while she may suffer from abnormal masculine attributes, is a female, and her developmental trajectory will inevitably prove it.

Lin Yu-ting and Imane Khelif, two individuals with XY chromosomes who unsurprisingly dominated the female Olympic boxing scene and ultimately fought one another for the gold, are artificial palm trees in Michigan. To this very day, even after suffering the typical progressive rhetoric, the International Boxing Association (IBA) insists they are men, having disqualified them from participating in IBA-sanctioned bouts. Yu-ting and Khelif were tested chromosomally, and the results were unquestionable. They are men. Both were given the opportunity to appeal the results. Yu-ting did not. Khelif did at first but then withdrew the appeal.

Why? Because a second test, like the first, would have doubly certified both are artificial palm trees—fake women—and they do not belong in women’s sports.

“Then why were they allowed to compete in the Olympics?”

First, you’re asking why the same organization that gave us an opening ceremony awash in transgenders with uncovered genitalia parodying Da Vinci’s “The Last Supper” would allow men pretending to be women to compete in female sports. That alone should answer your question. The International Olympic Committee (IOC) was infected by the woke mind virus years ago, and gender has long since lost its meaning among its members. Second, while the IBA determines gender through testing, the IOC’s only gender determination comes from what’s printed on an athlete’s passport.

“But it’s not that simple, Pastor Thoma. These athletes are human beings suffering from a rare condition.”

And yet, strangely, these poor, marginalized human beings suffering from a rare condition handily destroyed every female boxer from every other country, eventually competing for gold in their individual weight divisions. What an underdog story this is. Or isn’t.

With respect, I’m not buying that argument. I’m convinced the “rare condition” discussion was popularized and used as a pity-generating excuse to make more room for gender confusion, especially since it didn’t emerge until much later in the controversy—and it was never fully substantiated. In addition, the IBA and its doctors—collectively, the recognized worldwide boxing authority—outright rejected the premise relative to women’s sports. Instead, they insisted XY boxers would always put XX boxers in danger. That’s no small thing.

Still, as blurry or unsubstantiated as the excuse may be, let’s say these men actually do have an abnormal condition. My response would not change, except maybe to say their condition saddens me. Such is sin’s dreadful fingerprint upon human flesh. Nevertheless, a person with no arms, for as unfortunate as his condition might be, cannot participate in an arm-wrestling competition. That is his lot. I have a terrible back. There are things I cannot do that others can. This is a thorn for me. I plead daily for relief. And yet, Saint Paul teaches: “I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness’” (2 Corinthians 12:7-9). Paul carried on in his lot, unable to be or do anything other than what he was.

If Lin Yu-ting’s and Imane Khelif’s conditions prevent them from competing, then so be it. It’s tragic, but it’s a tragedy that exists within reality, and we all bear thorns that prevent us from one thing or another in that sphere.

And so, yes, it really is that simple. Behold the XY’s innate advantage over its XX counterpart. Blow after blow, it asserts its natural physical dominance over its female opponents, and it does so to the women’s danger. To micromanage and ultimately convolute the issue through supposed transgender or intersex equality excuse-making only demonstrates a cultural infection that threatens to uproot far more than women’s sports. It threatens humanity’s future.

A real palm tree will not grow in a Michigander’s front yard. If you see one, it’s fake. It does not belong.

Your Home is Worth Fighting For

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Vacations are nice, but home is better. I’ve heard it said that anyone can make anywhere a home—that our roots are portable. That may be true for some. For the rest of us, there’s another, more deeply rooted instinct. No matter where we are or where we’re going, at some point in any adventure, it’s likely we experience home’s gravitational pull. We find ourselves amazed by the exotic only to be equally astounded by the powerful need for what’s familiar. One of my favorites, Charles Dickens, wrote in his second volume of Martin Chuzzlewit that home is a word “stronger than any magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to in the strongest conjuration.” Maya Angelou described the desire for home as an ache that lives in all of us. For most, the ache means that no matter where we are or who we are with, the one place where we’re loved the most—where our absence is noticed the most—is home. As such, home always wins.

Today is my first day back from vacation. I needed the time away. I needed a burdenless pace for two uninterrupted weeks. It’s likely you know what I mean. It’s also possible you’ve experienced the jarring contrast of a vacation’s end. One minute, you were countless miles away, floating neck-deep in a swimming pool, and the next, you were neck-deep in man-made complications—two completely different pools of existence with very different demands.

Still, and once again, the ache proves stronger than the vexing differences. I’m home, and I’m glad for it. Measured against the “everyday” of life’s good and bad, it’s the place from which I set out each morning and the place to which I return each night. I go into the world to tackle or be tackled, and I return to my home knowing it’s where I most belong.

Interestingly, when I arrived at my “other” home (my office) this morning, things were a little different. It wasn’t anything significant. A few things were moved or added to my desk, a couple of books had been borrowed (thankfully, appropriate notes were left behind to track the borrowers), and my message box in the main office was no longer empty but full. Because these changes were slight, the overall vibe of “home” was intact. Imagine if I’d returned and my desk was gone, or cement blocks existed where my windows used to be. The ache would likely be lessened; maybe even gone altogether.

Before leaving for vacation, Pastor Pies, our emeritus pastor and my predecessor, stopped by with a copy of his doctoral thesis. I’d asked if he might allow me a copy to take along on the plane. He graciously obliged. The title of his thesis (which he tested among God’s people here at Our Savior in Hartland, Michigan, back in 1991) is “Christian Preaching as Dialogue in an Evangelical Lutheran Church.” Fancying myself more interested in the science of sermon preparation than most, I was glad to read it. For example, I appreciated that after making the case for preaching as God’s work through faithful ambassadors (2 Corinthians 5:20), Pastor Pies insisted, “Neither the power of God’s Word nor the operation of the Holy Spirit should be punctuated so as to excuse or justify inept preaching.” He went on to say that while God’s Word is efficacious, preachers have a “responsibility to preach it in a relevant way, sharing its timeless message in a timely manner…. This necessitates, in addition to prayer and the guidance of the Spirit, hard work under the blessing of God.”

I appreciated those words. They’re quite valuable. Still, something less conspicuous near the thesis’ beginning stood out for me, too. While explaining the setting for his study, Pastor Pies described Hartland, Michigan as a like-minded community attempting “to preserve everything they believe worth preserving while incorporating that which they consider to be valuable and useful.” He went on to describe the useful and valuable things as traditional social values, home and family, neighborhood unity, and community cooperation.

I had a thought. If, after writing this in 1991, had Pastor Pies been suddenly abducted by aliens, only to be returned to Hartland in July of 2024, would the ache he likely felt for home all those thirty-three years had been soothed? I ask this because a man who thinks he’s a female cat is currently running for a seat on the Livingston County Board of Commissioners. I ask because I’ve been in the company of elected officials openly commending the idea of biological boys being allowed to compete in female sports and use female bathrooms. I ask because local cohabitation rates are very nearly eclipsing traditional marriage. I ask for other reasons beyond even these.

In short: so much for Hartland as a place of traditional social values. So much for Hartland as a place for home and family. By the way, how’s it going in your corner of the nation—the world? Did you happen to see the opening ceremony for the 2024 Olympics in Paris this past Friday? Leonardo da Vinci’s portrait of the Last Supper was parodied grotesquely. Drag queens and all, it was a deliberate mocking of Christianity. Some are now trying to say it wasn’t, but most honest observers aren’t buying the new back-peddling. The similarities were far too obvious, and it’s nothing less than gaslighting to say we didn’t see what we saw.

I remember watching the Olympics as a kid. The opening ceremony was always a heart-lifting demonstration of world unity through competitive excellence. Not so much anymore. And, of course, Christianity is forever the easiest target. The Parisian magazine Charlie Hebdo printed a cartoon image of Muhammed a few years ago. The magazine’s office was firebombed, and nineteen people were attacked and killed.

As I prefer to remind folks on occasion, today’s world is a distant and alien land compared to what it once was. That said, there’s something else that can be said about your home.

It’s worth fighting for.

I’ve heard it said that fighting to preserve one’s home is not a choice but a duty. I agree. And while I’m no fan of Friedrich Nietzsche, he once wrote, “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” Again, I agree. Considering one’s home, the genuine ache we experience for it is, for many of us, the only “why” we need to push back against and endure almost anything that would threaten it.

Threats against one’s home abound. In America, one of the most important ways to protect your home is by voting. It’s not an end-all action by any means, but it is a significant one. Here in Michigan, several key voting dates are approaching. For example, Friday, August 2, is the deadline to request an absentee ballot for the upcoming Primary Election on Tuesday, August 6. Sunday, August 4, is the last day for early voting in the Primary Election. Concerning the 2024 General Election on Tuesday, November 5, early voting begins on October 6. October 21 is the deadline for registering to vote in the election in any form. November 1 is the deadline for requesting an absentee ballot.

Let these dates meet with your aching for home. Let each be an opportunity to remember its value. In faithfulness to the One who gave it (Hebrews 3:4), act to protect and preserve it. Choose candidates who will lead in ways that uphold God’s moral and natural law so that, if you’re ever absconded for thirty-three years, when you return home, it will still be home, not only for you but for generations to come.