I’ve been sad since 6/26 9am cst. I hope that some of the sorrow is from a heart burdened for people promised a liberty that will prove to be anything but freeing. But I fear much of it is from a sense of loss. A loss of that which was never truly mine.

I’m old enough to remember the good ole’ days. Or at least to remember those days as such. Days of safety and comfort, stained glass and Just as I Am. America was Christian, Graham crusades were on television and a President declared the “Year of the Bible”.

All was peace for evermore on this happy golden shore. Or so it seemed looking through John Conlee’s Rose Colored Glasses.

6/26 9am cst shattered that vision. Oh, I knew, you knew, we all knew it was coming. I knew it practically, experientially and theologically. It’s all been a mirage. And yet I couldn’t believe it.

Which says a lot about me. And probably something about some of you, as well. My flesh craves comfort. But Christ is calling me to sacrifice. And not just me. Each of us is faced with this paradox and choice from Jesus, “For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.” (Luke 9:24)

It’s choosing time. And the choice has little, if anything, to do with the culture, the Supreme Court, the Presidency, or any of the other things people are ranting about on social media. The choice is whether or not I, you, we, will take up the cross and follow Jesus.

Cultural Christianity won’t cut it anymore. It never did. The salvation it offered ended up being loss. Actual Christianity is about dying to self and living to Jesus – going where Jesus went, living as Jesus lived, teaching what Jesus taught, suffering as Jesus suffered. Such a life looks like a lost cause, but an empty tomb says otherwise.