God's Hand

Sometimes it can be really hard to see God’s hand. Sometimes it is clear as day. The last couple months has been the later. I shared a song a few days ago from Needtobreathe called Temporary Tears. By God, this song means a ton to me. I wrote:

My last two years have been full of temporary tears and hidden hallelujahs. I have learned to soak in the blessings, to not be embittered by the valleys, to setup camp in the desert and the gardens, and worship there.

What I didn’t say was that as I wrote those words I was holding a newborn baby boy in a maternity ward after a rough pregnancy.

What I didn’t write months ago, while we had a falling out with our church of eight years, was that my wife had to be taken to the ER with major complications in the pregnancy of our fourth child. I didn’t write about the frantic prayers that God save this boy. Hours in an ER, just waiting for a doctor to do an ultrasound and see if our son was okay, delayed until the last minute because we were before the point of viability. Way too many parents know this feeling, the dread.

I didn’t write about God’s grace and provisions, His protection over my little Lion.

I didn’t write about God’s guiding hand on us landing at a beautiful, new church that instantly surrounded us in grace and love that we not only needed, but that we largely lacked for years at our previous church.

If you know, you know that in these last two years we have seen trials, one after another. I said somewhere the other day that I feel like Mario facing Donkey Kong: the barrels aren’t even phasing me anymore, my legs are so trained for jumping.

I didn’t write about losing my job a week before I was supposed to take paternity leave this month, either. Because within a week I already had a new job lined up.

I literally received a call from a recruiter while telling my wife that I was laid off. I had an interview on Monday and accepted an offer before the weekend. My wife and I both had peace like a river. We’d seen God’s hand so much that we knew this was just another adjustment in His plan. He had a better role for me.

So now it’s mid-February and I am enjoying some down time with my family, a family that has increased by one this week. And in a few weeks I’ll be starting the next chapter of my career. God’s got this. He is sovereign. I’d rather Him be on the throne than me.

The tears, they’re temporary. Find the hidden hallelujahs and get in close to the fire. Soak. Trust in the Creator of all and worship there.

Pop culture is a culture that does not enculturate, a culture does not discipline. It is therefore an oxymoronic culture.

In a biblical culture a man expects his great grandchildren to read what he has read, sing what he has sung, listen to what he has listened to. In an evanescent culture, like the one that surrounds us, a man expects to have all his cultural experiences buried with him.

Future Men, Douglas Wilson

Fourth child on the way, oldest hitting double digits this year, I’ve been thinking a lot of legacy recently. Other happenings in my life have forced me to as well. Heck, it’s one of the reasons I’ve gotten enamored with woodworking. I’ve been a software engineer my whole life. Nothing I’ve make lasts beyond a few years. And it’s not even like an old phone model where, sure it’s no longer in production, but there are millions of them sitting around collecting dust. No, my work is literally just deleted and forgotten. Evanescent. And that describes much of what is around us today. I have toys from my childhood that are still in great condition despite 30+ years since they were unboxed. Toys today barely last a couple years. I could write on this a lot, but most of us feel it. Take worship music. How many songs from a decade ago are still played today on our stages? Our music is evanescent.

What are you passing onto your children? What will they take from your house when you pass on? Me, I’ve got a growing collection of— improving which each build— hand-made instruments. My boys want me to make them instruments. My heart says, “not yet, I’m not good enough yet,” but I know in my heart that I want to make them things they can carry into adulthood and maybe pass down to my grandchildren. The digital things will not be our inheritance. Web sites, code, apps, games. They are fleeting.

A final thought. Last night we sung Christmas carols around the table. It started with Doc Watson’s Christmas Lullaby and then the requests started. Angels We Have Heard on High (1862), Frosty (1950), Rudolph (1949), Jingle Bells (1857). These are songs I grew up singing. As I sat at the table, strumming an acoustic guitar made in the mid-1900’s, singing old songs passed down through generations I knew that one day I’d be leading my grandchildren in these same words, that my kids would be leading theirs. And they’d be laughing as they lost the melody because their 6 year old boy decided to toss in lyrics about Joker getting away.

I tried to watch John Oliver’s skit— “a short comedy sketch or piece of humorous writing, especially a parody”— on homeschooling and frankly couldn’t get through it. It was just too stupid and poorly argued. The Wade Show with Wade responded fantastically, pointing to a lot of the fallacies presenting the stats that knock out the stupid arguments being made. Thanks, Wade.

Now I’ll write you songs while I’m watching you cook
And later we’ll dance to them up in our room
Singing about all the babies we made
And all of the rooms that we filled with our love

As a Patreon supporter of Brian Sauvé, I got this song a couple weeks ago and tweeted about it. Brian’s response made my wife and I laugh heartily.

As a dad of three children, I have found myself balancing the introverted desire for peace & quiet and the joy of laughter and rough-housing, a herd of buffalo upstairs as I work, and the incessant need to ask questions. Let me say that I have been leaning much harder into the latter over the last few months and in it has come much peace. It doesn’t hurt that the introvert mind is— when trained— great at escaping internally in wild situations. To say that we love having filled our house with babies, laughter, love, and energy would be an understatement. I couldn’t imagine not having my band of children.

The new album from Brian is out everywhere you listen to music and I strongly encourage you to give this gift to your family.

Come on, boys, don’t you know?
There’re dragons out there, dragons out there
Come on, boys, don’t be slow
Cut down Leviathan, go get the girl.

Plenty of lovely songs for Christian dads to sing with and about their daughters. Sons? I can’t really think of any. Our little hooligans, our rough tumblers, our boys are full of adventure, running into trouble head-on. My oldest boy had a minor concussion before he was four and stitches before he was five. He’s almost six. Deep breath. I know that I am not alone in this because I wisely surround myself with dads. Blessedly for us, our boys are seeking an adventure and they’ve got a Bible full of adventure, a church history full of heroes and dragons.

Been following Brian Sauvé for a while and supporting his Patreon for a few months now. Good guy, great ministry out in Ogden, Utah. If you’ve been reading this blog this year, you’ve seen his blog, podcasts, and music referenced a few times. Out today is his new album called Hearth Songs. Unlike his last album that was all psalms and hymns and his upcoming Christmas album, Hearth Songs is full of songs for his wife and kids. Love songs, songs doting on his daughters, and a song of adventure for his boys.

Mid-song last night I hit pause just in time to hear my young boys belt out “Cut down Leviathan, go get the girl!” and I couldn’t be more happy.

Dads— and moms— tap the link above and give this blessing to your family!

You have a job, Christian. Indoctrinate your children, raise them in the faith. Sending them to be raised by the world for 30+ hours a week and thinking that you can counter all the world’s indoctrination is stupidity. This is your job. If you don’t do it, someone else will. They are more than willing.

Sharks Are Lurking

We were at a local beach with our kids a few weeks ago. A weekend out, away from the stress of the world. My daughter, ever the friendly one, was playing with a young boy when I got a sick, deep in my stomach feeling. I approached the lad and asked, “Bud, what’s your name?” He responded, “My name is Ivy and I’m a girl. I can prove it, I have seven Barbies at home.”

Let us be clear, girls do not talk this way and Ivy was not a girl.

Not having encountered this kind of situation yet, I pulled my daughter aside and told her that she cannot call him a girl as this is a lie, but could call the young man Ivy. I allowed my daughter to continue playing with him, but we stayed close. All the interactions were strained and weird.

What I learned at home shook me to my core. My daughter told my wife that she was playing with the young boy and a group of children. They split up boys and girls to play a game. The boy then yelled at my daughter, demanding that she call him a girl or he wouldn’t play with her. He kept scolding her until she caved and said, “fine, you’re a girl!”

Parents. I failed. My gut said to get her away, to protect her, but my heart assumed that this boy wasn’t going to do anything while I was close. Unfortunately he had already done it before I realized what was happening. And I am furious.

This child was taught to manipulate other children. His mother was close by. My daughter felt violated, didn’t know how to tell us there. Didn’t understand why this boy was yelling at her.

This is the insidious part of transgenderism. It would be one thing if they lived their lives and let us live ours. But that isn’t how it works. They must force us to participate in their charade. But to participate is to bear false witness. To lie. My daughter knew this boy wasn’t a girl, but she wanted to play. That’s why we were at the beach. To have fun, to decompress. But this young child decided to prey on her, to force her to lie. And all she wanted was to play so he took advantage of that to force her.

Let me speak clearly, we have learned a lesson in my house. My guard is sharpened.

Parents, this is what is lurking below the waves. Be vigilant. They want you to speak their lies. To deny truth. And they dance in the streets chanting that they are coming for your children. Trust them when they say that. They are.

Why Do We Despise Children?

Why do the children of modernity hate children so much? Why do we pump our women full of synthetic-hormone-cocktails, a chemical “No Trespassing” sign? We celebrate chemically barren wombs like our great-grandparents celebrated fruitful wombs. We haven’t managed an elixir to castrate the men quite so efficiently as of yet, but most of them are quite tame already, virtual geldings.

And when some hapless child slips through our poison gauntlet, we take great care to chop her up and vacuum her out, limb by tiny limb—don’t worry, it’s just a medical procedure. We’re highly advanced like that.

Why do we despise children?

Calling Their Apocalyptic Bluff by Brian Sauvé

I’m tired. I saw a tweet yesterday, from an account that has since gone private, that said that you cannot be pro-life while the foster care system still exists. The arguments the gal made in the replies was clear: you cannot oppose abortion if you haven’t adopted all the children. Put differently, we should be supporting the killing of children unless we are willing to adopt all those that are without parents.

Our culture hates children.

And our culture hates parents that parent. Their argument is simple. Get out of the way and let us raise your kids. Anything else is abusive.

How dare Matt Walsh keep his children off the Internet! How dare Matt Walsh homeschool his children! How dare Matt Walsh control what they watch! How dare Matt Walsh parent. Christian, you are no more a bad parent for preventing your children from surfing YouTube than you are for not tossing them in with the lions at the zoo.

Let me give you a theological answer: There is a great and chasmic antithesis yawning in the hearts of fallen man—a hatred of God that goes down to the bone. We hate our little ones because we hate the God in whose image they are knit together. This is why ours is a world where some of the very people crying out to save the whales and protect the sacred migrational corridors of arboreal squirrels also advocate for the murder of children in the womb; the babies bear God’s image—the whales don’t.

If you hate God, you will hate him every place you see him. […] It’s why we slaughter babies in the name of preventing climate change, like Aztecs ripping out hearts to ensure the rising of the Sun the next day.

Culture. The word comes from the Latin word for worship. Same word we get cult from. The modern culture is a cult of death.

Christian, you are to go forth, be fruitful, and multiply. You are to raise your children in the Word. You are to protect them. And it is a tiring job, especially today as the lions get restless. But keep up the good fight.

Show the unbelieving world that what they believe are resource-suckers are actually resources. Show the world that our kids aren’t thieves, but weapons—and teach the enemy to fear.

May your daughters be mothers of ten-thousands. May your sons possess the gates of their enemies.

Taking Parenting Advice From Dragons

Scorpions strike, vipers bite, and dragons burn cities.

Washington State just passed a law that allows the government to take your child away if your child wants to be sterilized and you say “no, you are a child”. These arguments are being made by demon-possessed people that slaughter their own children at the altar of Molech and have the audacity to ask Christians if they are sure they want more minorities born as that is what will happen when we outlaw the murder of babies. These slithering serpents now complain that the upright are having too many children while they make eunuchs of themselves in some grotesque cosplay.

The dragons smell, tongue flitting at the sulfuric air, their demise and know that what is coming is the upright outnumbering them. The demographic studies make clear that outside the religious, population is in decline. If we raise our children in the faith, prepare them to push the dragons back, the dragons see that we will win. Their “progress” is about to be rewound.

The whispers are getting louder.

The Accuser is saying that we are targeting children, that we are committing genocide, that we are bringing death, all while his unholy acolytes sacrifice their own at his throne and mutilate themselves to end their lineages.

Who is leading them to slaughter and who is trying to prevent it?

Word of advice, Christian parents, don’t let those that call evil good and good evil give you parenting advice. Don’t let those that are sterilizing the children they have and murdering those they don’t want tell you that you are a bad parent.

Stay the course. Raise your children in the Word. Prepare them to take up their cross daily. Dragons prowl near. Prepare them to push back the dragons for the good of the Kingdom.

But for all your words, O man
all your clever follies, and
Your babels piercing clouds
You’re just dust and potter’s clay
Kiss the son, lest in his way
He dash you to the ground

Such Clever Follies by Brian Sauvé

School choice is not really about freedom. Freedom, of course, is a bedrock American value. But the kind of “freedom” associated with the flight away from integration and toward racial isolation will never lead to a more truly free United States.


As a father, I want what is best for my daughter. As I’ve seen schools become more and more liberal, push liberal political doctrine, and sexual ethics— such as Illinois passing a few years back a new sexual education program that included teaching kindergarteners about masturbation— I’ve very much moved towards either homeschooling or private schooling my daughter.

Not once has it crossed my mind to do so to keep her from “children of color”. Not once has it been to keep her from other children at all. And I know many homeschool mothers and private school fathers out there that have never once thought this way. It has only ever been about her education.

This is a prime example of race-baiting. I want a better education for my daughter, so I’m a racist.