No Right to Complain If You Don’t Engage

A few years back, maybe six or seven years ago, a member here at Our Savior (or, I should say, former member) approached me to let me know in his passive-aggressive way that my friend Charlie Kirk had been listed in the Southern Poverty Law Center’s “Extremist Files.” In response, I gleefully pointed out that while Charlie himself had not yet received such a badge of honor, his organization, TPUSA, had indeed made SPLC’s “Hate Map” as an “anti-government extremist group.”

That particular conversation, like so many with him before it, did not end well, especially since I implied that being targeted by the SPLC, a group that claims to fight racial hatred, could be a good thing.

But I meant every word.

I wonder what my former friend’s thoughts are now that the SPLC’s guts have been exposed. Although I may be getting a little ahead of myself. Have you even heard the news?

If not, the essentials are that the Department of Justice leveled three charges against the SPLC, namely, wire fraud, making false statements, and conspiracy to commit money laundering. It seems that between 2014 and 2023, the SPLC’s leadership secretly funneled more than $3 million in donor money to racist extremist groups, most notably, the Ku Klux Klan, as well as other neo-Nazi groups. I just read some of Todd Blanche’s comments on the situation. He’s the acting Attorney General. In summary, he put it rather bluntly, saying the SPLC was “manufacturing racism to justify its existence.”

I tried not to laugh when I read his words. Most reasonable people who’ve ever crossed paths with the SPLC already knew that. Charlie certainly did. That’s because it’s an easily discernible M.O. for most of the groups out there claiming to fight racial inequality. In fact, it’s written into the DNA of almost any progressive protest you see on the news. From BLM to “No Kings” to LGBTQ, Inc., the only way these groups have managed to stay in business is to ensure that the “hatred” angle relative to their particular organization’s needs persists. And so, that’s what they do. They foment rage.

I wouldn’t be surprised if we learn that other organizations, like the ones I’ve named, have been doing the same thing the SPLC has been doing. Of course, the SPLC denies the charges. Still, it’s not looking good for them. It’s becoming undeniably plain that the SPLC, which raised money by warning Americans about hate, was shelling out major cash to keep the machinery of hate in motion.

Wow. Shocking.

As I said before, most reasonable people already knew the SPLC to be less a sober civil-rights watchdog and more a moral-licensing agency. It has always acted with an assumed authority to decide who was hateful, who was dangerous, who belonged on the outside of acceptable society, and perhaps worst of all, who needed to be marked for public suspicion, all toward the goal of organic cancellation. Of course, to remain somewhat veritable, the usual suspects, like the KKK, were tagged. In the meantime, the rest of SLPC’s cash was being spent tagging and fighting against Christians, conservatives, and a whole host of ordinary people who held unfashionable views about marriage, gender, education, immigration, or religious liberty.

I suppose that’s what happens when an organization discovers that condemnation can become a business model. The more standards it can create and identify as hate, the more necessary it becomes to fight that hate. The longer its list of enemies grows—the more fear it creates—the more urgently it can ask donors for money.

But again, I say sarcastically, “Wow. Shocking.” That’s because none of this was lost on reasonable people—or at least the people paying attention. And I don’t offer those words lightly, especially to the folks here in Michigan. There’s an angle to this that requires some attention because it lands very close to home.

Jocelyn Benson, Michigan’s current Secretary of State and a candidate for governor, served on the SPLC board during the time period covered by the indictment. She was named to the board of directors in 2014. Her campaign has publicly confirmed that she served for four years. That does not, by itself, prove what she knew or when she knew it. Still, the indictment accuses leadership. That includes the board.

I suppose one thought here is that if someone seeks the governorship of Michigan, then that person’s associations and moral discernment should matter. I’m the Executive Director for an organization. My role exists alongside a board of directors. That board isn’t a ceremonial thing. It exists for governance. It exists for accountability. It exists to understand the organization’s mission, finances, and a whole host of other matters that help ensure the effort is acting faithfully and lawfully.

Now, having said all this, a seemingly random thought must be considered.

Not long after that image of Trump was shared—the one in which he looked an awful lot like Jesus stretching out his hand to heal someone—I read plentiful commentary from fellow Christians on social media saying things like, “This is exactly why Christians need to stay out of politics. The separation of Church and State!”

I get the aversion to the image. Regardless of Trump’s wobbly explanation, it was ridiculous. But it’s precisely because Christians have adopted that kind of retreat that organizations like the SPLC continue to get as far as they do. Yes, there are foolish and cringeworthy things that our elected officials do in the public square. But the answer to these things is never political indifference, or worse, monasticism. It’s never to leave the arena, leaving the gates open, and allowing the lions to feast on whatever they prefer.

It’s true, the government is not the Church. It cannot preach the Gospel, administer the Sacraments, or forgive sins. It cannot make Christians. Only Christ does that through the means He has established. But the government is still Christ’s servant for earthly order (Romans 13:1–4). It is still given to punish evil and protect the neighbor. And when people who hate Christ, hate His design, hate His Word, and hate anyone who confesses His truth, are the only ones willing to enter the public square, willfully disengaged Christians should not complain when the public square becomes hostile to the things of God.

On the contrary, Christians must get in the game and push back. At a minimum, that means Christians cannot shrug at elections. Even more importantly, we cannot simply vote for president while neglecting the midterms, or worse, our local elections. In fact, I’d be willing to say that the folks in charge of the local library or the people elected to your local school board matter more than anyone may realize. Even there, a Christian cannot pretend that a candidate’s beliefs and alliances will have no bearing on our lives. They do, and in the most immediately impactful ways. A school board candidate who sat on the board for an organization that believes 2 plus 2 equals 7 is not someone you want spearheading a community’s educational efforts.

And yet, concerning even greater, more life-altering things, there remain those Christians who sprinkle so foolishly across social media, “Stay out of it! God will handle it!” Those Christians absolutely own the blame when their community’s children cannot do simple math.

Yes, God will handle it. He’ll handle it through your vocation as a citizen, upholding your God-given responsibilities (Jeremiah 29:7 and Matthew 22:21). He’ll bless His world through your faithfulness, which is already something He works in us by the power of the Holy Spirit for faith. We’re already inclined to do what He wants. When we vote, we’ll be inclined to seek candidates who most closely align with Him and His Word.

In this day and age, that pretty much means choosing leaders who protect life, embrace natural law, honor the family, respect religious liberty, and understand the limits of government in light of Two Kingdoms theology.

By the way, Christians engage in the process, recognizing that no candidate will be perfect. No election will usher in the kingdom of God. And anyone who believes these things has lost grip on what the Word of God teaches. For those who hold to God’s Word, they’ll know, by faith, that Christ has already won the victory that no ballot can win (1 Corinthians 15:57 and Colossians 2:15). He lives and reigns now, and His kingdom will have no end (Luke 1:33).

They’ll also know that until He returns, we live here. We serve our neighbors here. We raise our children here. We confess the truth here. And part of that earthly calling is to engage in the public square in ways that not only protect what’s Godly, but also to act with wisdom to preserve it. One of the most powerful ways to do that is in the voting booth.

So, returning somewhat to where I began, I’d encourage you to pay attention. Do some reading. Don’t skim. Read. This is an important way to measure candidates against the Christian Faith, namely, the Word of God. Campaign slogans won’t tell you anything. Not anything of real value, that is. Most would never have learned about Jocelyn Benson’s association with the SPLC had certain folks not dug deeper and written in ways that exposed it.

Read up on it. Also, study the candidates’ voting records. Read their speeches. Look into their associations. Doing even these things, it won’t be hard to figure out who’s who.

Then, as a Christian, take that “who’s who” stuff into the voting booth and flex the muscle of your responsibility. Because if you can, but don’t, as I said before, you have no reason to complain.

Rest and Responsibility

Returning from vacation always puts me in a contemplative form.

When we landed yesterday at Detroit Metro Airport, having returned from our annual two weeks in Florida, I can assure you that I had one of those invisible moments where even the “ding” sound as the overhead seatbelt light went out seemed to carry a lot of weight.

Things were going to be very different from what they were only moments before.

And then there’s the aura inside the airport. Sheesh. Maybe it’s just me, but the people departing are far different than the people returning. The people preparing to board for vacation look bright-eyed and ready. Among those returning, some are wearing flip-flops and theme park shirts. Others are carrying totes probably filled with things they bought while away. All are carrying the quiet resignation of a settling reality. They’re sort of shuffling through the terminal, not like the people who are getting ready to leave. Those folks are eager for what’s next. The returning folks aren’t so eager for what’s next. Although they’re not resisting it, either. They appear to know that a vacation is precious. However, it can only be held for so long before you have to let go.

I suppose in a culture dominated by the relentless pursuit of pleasure, vacations run the risk of feeling a little bit like a secular salvation. That’s probably why resorts market themselves as paradises promising renewal through pleasure-seeking. Secularism pretty much champions the idea of this kind of escape. It suggests that genuine rest comes from detaching oneself entirely from the reality of responsibility, feeding the myth that fulfillment can only be achieved far away from who or what we actually are in the lives we regularly inhabit.

While waiting for our luggage at carousel 3, a man walked by in all black and high heels. He was trying his best to be womanly. He wasn’t fooling anyone, except maybe himself.

I share this because it’s an easy example. The modern push of transgenderism seems like an embodied form of what I’m describing. It’s driven by the notion that someone’s identity is actually apart from biological realities, and therefore, satisfaction can be attained by remaking oneself according to personal desire, rather than embracing the givenness and goodness of what’s real—of what God has designed.

In both cases, whether with gender or with the more benign realm of vacation marketing, the cultural message is the same: “Escape who you are. Reinvent yourself. That’s where fulfillment lies.”

But is any of this really true? While I can appreciate a resort’s marketing allure, I also recognize that a vacation’s escape is indeed a marvelous thing, but perhaps not in the way our culture imagines.

Vacations make space for things that generally have to wait. There’s more time for anything and everything, or nothing at all. It’s a moment in time to do whatever might ease life’s usual burdens. In the meantime, bills wait. Work waits. Life’s duties wait.

But here’s the thing. The duties do not wait idly. They wait hungrily. When we got home, I saw that the weeds in the flower beds continued to grow. The grass did, too. I found that one of our cars sat and leaked a steady stream of transmission fluid for two straight weeks, all over the driveway. The pre-vacation refrigerator that was emptied had to be refilled. The milk we forgot to dump was quite the clumpy sight. The house had that strange, unlived-in scent, and dust had settled on things that were cleaned before we left, reminding us of our absence.

And yet, even as I came home to these things, I’m not so bothered by them. There’s a goodness in them, too.

The dinner table was ours again last night. We all sat in our usual spots. Well, four out of the five of us did. Harry went to see some friends. And admittedly, we were all very tired. We woke Saturday morning at 2:30 AM to catch a 6:00 AM flight home. Either way, the discussion was as it always is. It wasn’t the novelty of vacation. It was something more rooted. By way of another example, I can say I experienced what I’m doing my best to describe when Jen and I drove back from a quick visit last night with Josh, Lexi, and Preston. Passing through town, I mentioned Linden’s landscape—its trees and such. They look and sound nothing like the manicured palm trees and flora in Florida. And while I didn’t say it, they looked and sounded more like home than paradise ever could.

That’s because Linden is home. And perhaps it is precisely this feeling that helps me understand why God’s Word might speak of rest—of vacationing—not as an abandonment of reality, but as a renewal within it (Matthew 11:28-30; Hebrews 4:9-11). Jesus, when tired, often withdrew to quiet places (Luke 5:16; Mark 1:35). He certainly didn’t do it to escape the burden He knew He would bear (Matthew 26:39, 42). He did it as a very real and very human in-between for re-engaging with strength (Mark 6:30-32). Unlike the secular goal of continually fleeing responsibility, God’s Word reassures us that work and rest, engagement and withdrawal, each have their sacred roles (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8). They are not opposed. Instead, they weave together to form a life that can actually be very good.

I think there’s something holy about returning to your place in the world, even if the transition is difficult. You belong there. You are needed there. I think if you’re listening closely enough, something around you may even whisper, “Welcome back. It’s good to have you home. And now, let’s get back to work.”

Don’t get me wrong. You’ll never hear me say that coming home from a vacation is easy. It isn’t. In fact, for the Thoma family, it’s one of the most challenging transitions there is. I can assure you there were tears. With as busy as our lives can be, vacation sees that busyness out the door for a little while.

However, I think we can all admit there’s something wonderfully reassuring about stepping back into the familiar spaces. As much as we crave what vacations can offer, there’s relief in sleeping in our own beds again. There’s reprieve in reclaiming the familiar routines that, in some ways, define us. After all, home isn’t just a building to which we return. It’s far more than that. It’s where the richness of our story unfolds. That story is layered. Within those layers, we experience the ordinary rhythm of work and rest.

As I’ve already more or less said, for as good as “paradise” may feel, there’s a holiness in the “ordinary.” In the end, coming home from vacation isn’t so much about losing something precious as it is rediscovering the beauty of that ordinary. For me, it’s a precise moment on the timeline when I’m forced to remember that rest doesn’t mean escape. Indeed, God sets something better—actually, something extraordinary—right in front of me every single day. Looking through that Gospel lens, I can make it through to next year’s getaway 365 days from now.