Thursday, December 25, 2014

Do We Have the Spirit of Christmas?


Merry Christmas and a Happy 2015!!
December 25, 2014
Dear friends,
I hope you have a blessed Christmas with your loved ones and many blessings for the coming year.
For me personally, 2015 will undoubtedly prove very exciting, with the Talent going national in Holland very soon now.
Internationally, I think we're all waiting for the next phase in the controlled demolition of the American Empire and the West. It does seem that the Money Power is moving on to Asia. The collectivist mindset of the Chinese is closer to our masters' attitudes and ambitions. While the West was indispensable for conquering the globe for them, now that it has, it has become a liability.
Mass immigration, feminism (destroying the family) and the ongoing rapid destruction of living standards all throughout the West are making life more and more difficult and many people are becoming desperate with the tyrannical nature of 'democracy' and its petty laws, fines, and victimless 'crime'. We will see growing numbers of people leaving the West in the years ahead.
And let us hope it will be just that. The idea of war between the US and Russia (which will quickly involve the Chinese too) is simply unspeakable and it would be just so devastating if the foolish peoples of these Nations would allow their heinous 'elites' to pull this one off. It seems hard to believe 'they' could, but there can be little doubt they wouldn't mind some more slaughter.
Wars and rumors of must all come to pass. They are worldly affairs and we must not allow fear or anger to overtake us when considering these matters.
The Spirit is in complete control and all is well. This fundamental truth we must keep hammering home to our dying egos, who thrive on negative emotions, however justified they may seem from a worldly perspective.
Our task is to 'crucify self' (ego death), and executing the simple tasks the Spirit wants us to do each day. And leave the rest to Him, difficult as it may be. We are, after all, just very unsubstantial dots in a vast universe.
Christmas celebrations are under attack all over the West. Multiculturalism is being used to mind control Jews, Muslims and other immigrants into claiming they are 'insulted' by this 'non-inclusive' celebration.
All bollocks of course. Immigrants have a duty to integrate and show respect for the traditions of the host nation. Mass immigration in the US in the 19th century was a success because immigrants were expected to learn the law and language of the land and partake in the norms of the nation. Jews, of course, never have been known for their integrative skills and are often behind the Marxist pressures against Christmas.
The attack is multi layered. On one level it's an assault on Western Tradition, on the other against Christ himself. Because ultimately the whole war is against Christ.
Jesus Christ is not the man that was born 2000 years ago. It's the Spirit that came into the flesh in the man. The Word, that created everything. The Son. He spoke through Jesus of Nazareth.
Creation is pervaded by, and springs from what physicists like Tesla call 'the ether'. This ether is self aware and a person. It animates all beings. He lives in us all, whether we realize it or not. He is all knowing, all powerful. It is this being that spoke to us through the man whose birth we celebrate today.
A human being consists of a number of 'aggregates', as Gautama called them: the body, the senses, the emotional body, the mental body and volition. Our identification with these aspects is what we call 'ego'.
Spirit is immaterial and precedes matter. We can learn to observe Him by realizing that he is what remains after excluding everything we can observe via the other 'aggregates'. He is not what we see, not what we hear, not what we think, not what we feel. What we 'see' beyond these materialist experiences, is what the Buddhists call 'emptiness', and Jesus the 'the Holy Place'. It is here that we are 'in the shadow of the Almighty'.
Learning to break our identification with the material aspects of our being and identifying with 'emptiness' instead, is what the Spirit during his stint on earth called 'dying to self to be reborn in the Spirit'. Obviously, few 'born again Christians' have died to self or would know what Spirit is. Likewise: a true Taoist would know very well what this is all about.
True believers, then, are not recognized by their knowledge of scripture. 'One knows a tree by its fruit' and the Spirit knows his own and True Israel, since the new covenant, is among all the races. It is they who have 'crucified self' and do the Spirit's will. Because only those that do the Spirit's will, as they have learned it in communion, can say they believe.
It is not for everyone. Even today most people don't realize they need saving, so why would they look for the Savior living in their hearts, anxious to befriend them?
But if you do realize that you need saving, than study these matters. Go to the Spirit, as he so empatically requests through Jezus of Nazareth: 'come to me and I will give you peace', he promises. And he delivers too.
And it is this awareness that is the real enemy of the New World Order. People dying to self and doing the infallible will of the Creator is what they fear, for obvious reasons. Clearly the Banker's power quickly starts looking a whole lot less impressive, once you realize that the Spirit can work through selfless people.
And let us not forget that they were already beaten, back then. What we are facing today are basically just mop up operations after the enemy's back has already been broken.
And this is the real reason why Christmas is under attack.
So don't worry about Christmas being in fact a 'pagan' celebration of the winter solstice. Some of the pagans were infinitely closer to the Spirit than the 'christians' who destroyed them in the name of that spiritual tyranny known as the Vatican.
All our traditions are suspect in many ways and most obviously the world is at war with the Spirit and we should not take it all too seriously. But we should also not become unwitting stooges of the adversary, trying to alienate us even further from our traditions and way of life, sinful as they may be in many ways.
So with this in mind, enjoy Christmas and this chance to rest, to be with those closest to us, who love us and bear with our many faults, just as we struggle to bear with theirs.
May the Spirit be with you and all of us in these troubled times. Soon, real soon, love will again govern all our relations.
your brother in Christ,
The Christmas Candle
To Dad--who knew how to keep Christmas well
December 25, 2014
Candle wicks, like memories, flicker faintly at times, and burn brightly at others.
Dickens could have been writing about my father, William Christian Stoos, when he said of Scrooge that he knew how to keep Christmas well. Dad was the Spirit of Christmas in our household. Each year he anticipated the holiday with a childlike glee. Although a stoic man, and deeply spiritual, he became a child at Christmas time—his favorite time of the year.
Whether it was the gaudy Christmas tree with its 2,000 lights that warmed our cozy house, the pine candles and exotic incense that filled it with the wonderful scent of Christmas, the ice tree he made each year in the front yard, or the pile of presents under the tree, which he and Mom worked so hard to buy—Dad reveled in the trappings and the spirit of Christmas. Whatever adversity the year may have brought previously was forgotten, for nothing mattered more than this season. It was, for him, a time of joy, wonder, and mystery, but most of all—togetherness.
I wish I had his sense of wonder and awe at the season. I tell myself I do; however, I do not think I can ever match his. Nor have I his creativity and talent. He did everything well—from working on the house, to upholstering furniture for clients, to making leaded glass panes, lamps, and candles—all of which he did during his later years after retirement. He had patience, pride in his work, and a desire for perfection that I, regrettably, did not inherit. And, above all, it was important to him that traditions—such as Christmas—be passed on, remembered, and revered.
Christmas, 1980, was special. I had just gotten out of the service and looked forward to spending Christmas with my folks and my brother. On this Christmas Day, Dad gave my brother and me a very special present. It was not the kind that you buy in the store, but the very best kind of present—the one that comes straight from the heart. This year he gave us each a leaded glass candleholder with a metal base, complete with a six-inch red pillar candle. The candleholder was fashioned from a variety of richly colored glass rectangles bound together by lead bead. It was a beautiful gift that took a lot of effort and love to create.
"Thanks, Dad," I said, "it is beautiful."
Dad turned the candle over and showed us the inscription etched on the bottom: ‘Christmas, 1980, Love, Dad.’
"I wanted you guys to have something to remember me by," he said, "when I am gone."
I was at once touched and saddened by the comment. No one wants to think about the mortality of his or her parents, especially at Christmas time. His comment was slightly foreboding, and I tried to make light of it.
"That’s a long way off, Dad," I replied.
But, as it turns out, I was wrong. Sadly, Dad’s passing was not so far off. He did not have many years left. In fact, he would not live to see five more Christmases.
My father believed in the supernatural and I am certain he believed in spirits. He studied comparative religions, and was a very spiritual man. He certainly believed in life after death. Had he been able to return after his death, I am certain he would have found a way. That he never did reinforced my belief that the dead do not return to us—except in memory. Yet Dad’s wish to be remembered—as if that were ever in doubt—was strangely fulfilled, just as he said.
Christmas Eve, 1985, was a bitterly cold night—the kind that stings your face and takes your breath away. My wife, baby girl, and I had just returned home from a Christmas Eve celebration at my in-laws. I thought a lot about Dad that season; it was the first one without him. In his honor, I lit the Christmas Candle a couple days earlier. Not wanting to burn it down too far, I blew it out. The Christmas Candle sat in a prominent corner of our rustic, sunken living room on the first level of the house, waiting to be lighted on Christmas—which had become my tradition. I thought of Dad as I unlocked the front door just before entering the pitch-black house on this bone chilling evening. As I entered the house, I saw something that startled me so much that I could feel my scalp tingle and a chill run down my spine. As I peered into the coal blackness of the living room, there in the corner, sitting on the table, flickering brightly, casting eerie shadows on the rough cedar paneling and illuminating the entire ceiling above, was the Christmas Candle. What I had been so careful to blow out two days before, was magically, mysteriously, blazing brightly. I stared at it intently and remembered the words my father had said five Christmases
before, "something to remember me by...." My wife chided me for leaving the candle burning, until I reminded her that I had been careful to blow it out. How could it possibly have escaped our notice for the past two days? For this, we had no immediate answer.
Now I am not a believer in ghosts, nor do I believe, really, that my dead father’s spirit lit the candle for me on Christmas Eve, 1985. Yet, he might just as well have, for the sight could not have been more startling, or his words more indelibly etched into my memory, than on that night. It must be that I did not blow the candle out completely as I had thought—two days earlier. It could just be that, as candles sometimes do, the wick burned ever so softly, imperceptibly, unnoticed for two days—never giving a hint that it would somehow come to life and burn ever so brightly on this night. Just in time for Christmas.
Each year I light Dad’s Christmas Candle in his memory. To this day, I have never totally reconciled the events of that clear, cold night, years ago, when the Christmas Candle came to life. Whether natural or supernatural, the event reminded me—of Dad, of wonderful Christmases past, and his wish never to be forgotten at Christmas. Perhaps candle wicks, like memories, flicker faintly at times, and burn brightly at others. All I know is that, on this Christmas Eve, the year of Dad’s death, by some strange quirk of fate, or Coincidence, whatever you want to call it, the Christmas Candle would not let me forget.
From the book, The Wind and the Spirit: Stories of Faith and Inspiration © 2011 William Kevin Stoos
© 2014 William Kevin Stoos
Copyright © 2012 William Kevin Stoos
William Kevin Stoos (aka Hugh Betcha) is a writer, book reviewer, and attorney, whose feature and cover articles have appeared in the Liguorian, Carmelite Digest, Catholic Digest, Catholic Medical Association Ethics Journal, Nature Conservancy Magazine, Liberty Magazine, Social Justice Review, Wall Street Journal Online and other secular and religious publications. He is a regular contributing author for The Bread of Life Magazine in Canada. His review of Shadow World, by COL. Robert Chandler, propelled that book to best seller status. His book, The Woodcarver (And Other Stories of Faith and Inspiration) © 2009, William Kevin Stoos (Strategic Publishing Company)—a collection of feature and cover stories on matters of faith—was released in July of 2009. It can be purchased though many internet booksellers including Amazon, Tower, Barnes and Noble and others. Royalties from his writings go to support the Carmelites. He resides in Wynstone, South Dakota.
"His newest book, The Wind and the Spirit (Stories of Faith and Inspiration)" © 2011, is scheduled for release in the summer of 2011. All the author’s royalties go to support the Carmelite sisters."


What Part of Christmas Don't They Understand?
By Lee Duigon
December 25, 2014
I will not soil Christmas Day by mentioning the names of any of those for whom this day is a calamity.
We are here to proclaim the Lordship of Christ, boldly and without compromise, over every square inch of this terrestrial ball (as the old hymn puts it)—today a promise, but someday a visible reality.
There are those who take comfort in their riches, their power and authority, and in their worldly wisdom. They haven’t changed since Jesus Christ was born 2,000 years ago. Understanding only wealth, brute force, and the apparent ease with which they remain perched atop the pyramid, smugly looking down, they completely miss the point of a baby lying in a manger.
"For the preaching of the cross is, to them that perish, foolishness…" (I Corinthians 1:18)
Once upon a time they feared a conqueror, a second David who would restore the kingdom to Israel. When Jesus told them His kingdom was not of this world, they took it to mean that He was resigning the world to them and to their master, Satan. They ignored, or never heard, the prophecies that this kingdom—which Daniel described as a gigantic stone not shaped by human hands—would crush to powder the kingdoms of this world and endure forever.
They have always soothed themselves with the fact that this hasn’t happened yet, mistaking God’s patience, God’s total independence from time as we know it, for evidence that either God does not exist at all, or else lacks the power to fulfill His word. Either way, they’re free to continue doing as they please: just as in the time of Noah.
God has told us how He will work.
"But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to naught things that are: that no flesh should glory in his presence." (I Corinthians 1:27-29)
College profs and movie stars and politicians laugh at foolish things, unable to make any sense of them. What could be more foolish than to send a baby in a manger to be the Lord and Savior of the world? And who is weaker than a baby? What does he count, against armies and multi-trillion-dollar governments? What could he possibly do? And so they laugh, and keep on doing what they’re doing.
They can’t even see base things, or things that are despised. And as for things which are not—well, who’s afraid of what does not exist?
So God has told them that He will perform His word by means of things beneath their notice, and by people who are not considered wise, or mighty, or noble (verse 26)—people who, in their eyes, count for nothing.
And the day of the Lord will come upon them unawares, like a thief in the night.
All of this, "That your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God." (I Corinthians 2:5)
It will not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but God will do as He has said.
Isaiah prophesied, "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end, upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it, and to establish it with judgment and with justice from henceforth even forever. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this." (Isaiah 9:6-7)
What part of this do the wise men and the rulers of this age not understand?
All of it!
And that’s their tragedy.
© 2014 Lee Duigon - All Rights Reserved
Lee Duigon, a contributing editor with the Chalcedon Foundation, is a former newspaper reporter and editor, small businessman, teacher, and horror novelist. He has been married to his wife, Patricia, for 34 years. See his new fantasy/adventure novels, Bell Mountain and The Cellar Beneath the Cellar, available on

God, Can You Hear Me?
By: Devvy Kidd
December 25, 2014
As the nation celebrates today the birth of Jesus, I once again pray to you, our Heavenly Father and wonder if you can hear me?
Of course you know because you know all, that I was baptized and raised in the Catholic Church which is known today as the 'Whore of Babylon'. Many countless emails I receive on nearly a daily basis state for a fact I am the whore daughter of the Church even though I haven't stepped inside one since Vatican II. My faith is with me every minute of every hour of the day despite all the hateful rants. You know what is in my heart.
In the 'Whore of Babylon' Church I was raised with the Ten Commandments as the guiding principles You put forth for mankind to live by. In Church, priests never ceased in reminding us about sin and the devious ways of the fallen angel, Satan. In the 'Whore of Babylon' Church, so called by popular writers, ministers and pastors on the Internet, we were taught never to forget the greatest gift You gave to this world, Jesus Christ. We were taught to live in a 'state of grace', to love 'Jesus of Nazareth' and above all: never break Your Commandments. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Gee, what horrible life lessons.
On this day the world celebrates (even though we know Jesus was not born on December 25th) the birth of Your greatest gift to all mankind: "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved." John 3:16-17 (KJV)
Our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, was brought into this world as the light over darkness. Love over hate. Peace instead of war. He was brought to earth to save mankind from sin and wickedness. He died a horrible death for our sins.
How America has so failed over the past half century in keeping with Your commandments and defiling the sacrifice made by your only begotten son. How many times a day does one hear Jesus' name used in a profane way or Yours - even by so called pastors and reverends. "Sen. Barack Obama's pastor says blacks should not sing "God Bless America" but "God damn America."..."He said Rev. Wright "is like an old uncle who says things I don't always agree with," telling a Jewish group that everyone has someone like that in their family." Which we must assume is why Barry Soetoro/Obama sat in that church for 20 years and listened to such hateful words. Or this from another "minister", Louis Farrakahn, who recently said it was time to tear up this "God damn country".
God, sometimes I wonder why you don't just flick your finger and send this earth spinning into oblivion.
Instead of Americans praying for their sins to be gone, America is drowning in sin. Not all Americans, but so many one can see the end result in our daily lives and in so many areas of our culture.
Your Ten Commandments are ignored in favor of winning at all costs for too many politicians, who like Judas Iscariot betraying Your only begotten son, they have betrayed our nation for many pieces of silver. These same politicians at all levels on government in our beloved Republic lie, cheat and steal for their own financial gain. They lust for power as a male dog lusts for a bitch in heat. Their political 'party' is simply the brand name they use to deceive when in fact both major political parties in this country stand for the same totalitarian, God-less agenda.
Millions of people in this country lie, cheat and steal their way through life; they spit in your face everyday of the week. There are now companies who make massive sums of filthy lucre promising they can provide you with someone to cheat with outside of your marriage; adultery has become a cottage industry. Licentiousness is touted as liberty as America's moral culture has become as dirty and filthy as any sewer. Moral degeneracy has been covering our nation for decades; a foul and ugly stench.
You have told mankind that men having sex with men and women the same is an abomination:
"You shall not lie with a male as those who lie with a female; it is an abomination." -- Leviticus 18:22
"If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them. Leviticus 20:13
"For this reason God gave them over to degrading passions: for their women exchanged the natural use for that which is against nature. And in the same way also the men abandoned the natural use of the woman and burned in their desire toward one another, men with men committing indecent acts and receiving in their own persons the due penalty for their error." -- Romans 1:26-27
"Who, knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure in them that do them." Romans 1:32
In defiance of Your command for mankind regarding sexual intimacy, over the past two decades the Holy Bible has been twisted into pretzels in an effort to change Your words to justify wallowing in filth and sin. This past weekend a 'rock superstar', Elton John, and his male sex partner got "married" and became Mr. & Mr. The popular 'same sex marriage' myth is playing out across our once moral nation as millions of so-called Christians "accept" and "tolerate" that which you have condemned in the strongest words. There is an old saying, "Slap the king, expect to die." And, so You have said in Romans 1:32 (KJV). Those who cheer on such wickedness slap You in the face and expect not to be held accountable. How wrong they are and one day will find out for no one escapes this life alive.
Even worse, politicians in America have given their 'blessing' for sexual deviants to adopt innocent children and bring them into a life of depravity (men having sex in each other's feces) and sin. Adoption of babies, 'tweens' or teens by sexual deviants, male or female, it makes no difference for it truly is child abuse. Those same God-less politicians who have seen fit to allow sexual deviants of all flavors to openly serve in our military sanction the persecution of chaplains who speak of You or Jesus while promoting worship of a false god named Allah.. How obscene is that? Those lost souls who have bought into the big lie they are born that way have been courted by Satan and seduced into forfeiting their soul for the forbidden.
I wonder, dear Father, what you think about Americans who loudly speak out against savages in the Middle East as they rape and murder in the name of a false god yet seem to not see the same here in this country. I wrote about the carnage a couple of years ago:
* The Killing Fields of America
* The Killing Fields of America - Infants, Babies, Teens
* Killing Fields of America - The Deadliest Of The Deadly
Has anything changed since then? No. In defiance of Your commandment, 'Thou shalt not kill', the killing fields of America continue to fill up:
Dec. 19, 2014: "'Thrown away like a piece of trash': Boy, 5, in Amber Alert was strangled to death; 19-year-old cousin arrested, sheriff says." 19, 29 or 59, age doesn't seem to matter as men and women continue to kill each other or precious, innocent children in this country - every single day of the year.
The barbarian group called ISIS made headlines recently for beheading 150 young girls and women who refused to become their sex slaves. What about the killings here in America done by heinous acts such as setting a person on fire? It sickens me every time I do research on how many ways people in this country, consumed by evil, manage to kill each other - including innocent children. For this Jesus died on the cross at Calgary? To save us from our sins? What greater sin is there than slaughtering our fellow human beings and then going off for a burger or bragging about it on some social media?
3,300 innocent babies are murdered in the womb everyday in this country. It may seem a small number to those who support a "woman's right to privacy", but if you take every man, woman and child in the states of California, Virginia and Pennsylvania, kill all of them, stack them into mountains of dead human beings - that's how many innocent babies have been murdered since Roe v. Wade was decided in 1973. Yes, they were babies. With the advancement of technology more than a decade ago one could now clearly see a baby as early as six weeks in its mother's womb. A beating heart, not a glob of 'fetal tissue'. How it must sadden You to watch as champions of baby killing, i.e., Sen. Wendy Davis [D-TX] are cheered on and made heroes by men and women who spit in your face. For that people in this country expect You to bestow Your blessings upon this land?
Today for millions, it's all about baubles, gluttony and a day at the movie theater. Being of an age now where I have lived a fairly long and full life, it sickens me as I watch a nation embrace what the Catholic Church introduced as the seven deadly sins: Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride.
America is swimming in deadly sins. If one studies them, they will see just how big of an impact they have been on our moral fabric. America turned its back on You when certain events happened that are scoffed at by dead souls. People so empty who would rather welcome the Prince of Darkness in defiance of You. The created who now believe they are more powerful than the Creator. Start with eliminating prayer in public schools and then the so-called rock and roll era of "free love". Those cultural 'events' were the beginning of the effort to erase You from the American landscape. It wasn't always that way. Take for instance The New England Primer of 1777:
"In the early colonial period, reading the Bible was the primary reason and motivation for learning to read. For example, in 1647, the "Old Deluder Act" was passed by the Massachusetts General Court required every township with 50 or more families to hire a teacher. Similar legislation quickly spread to the other New England colonies, being the first step towards compulsory education. The preamble was explicit that knowledge of the Scriptures was the chief goal, and that "one chief project of that old deluder, Satan, [is] to keep men from the knowledge of the Scriptures".....
"This connection and between learning the alphabet and learning Scripture and doctrine is pervasive in The New England Primer. And the concern that children come to know Christ as Savior and Lord is obvious. By the modern taste, specific language in the Primer is frequently termed stern and morbid. Our modern culture tries to avoid the recognition of death. But to the colonial culture, where death was ever present, the reality of coming to know Christ before one's demise was of urgent concern."
It is still true today for no one except You knows when each of us will be called to atone for our sins after leaving this earth. Everyday approximately 6,762 people die in this country; 2,468,435 per year. Only You knew when each of them would pass away. How many of those had a personal relationship with Jesus? Only You know.
Today, churches are being burnt to the ground - here in America: Churches In America Are Being Attacked By Terrorists And Set On Fire, Church Burnings In America Have Gone Rampant
Today, invoking Your word or mentioning Jesus in a public place has become a crime. I don't need to tell you, God, but so few Americans know this: ‘Separation of Church and State' Was in Soviet Constitution Not U.S. Constitution: "In Article 13 of the general provisions of the constitution of the USSR, adopted in July 1918, it states, "In order to ensure genuine freedom of conscience for the working people, the church is separated from the State, and the school from the church: and freedom of religious and anti-religious propaganda is recognized for all citizens."
There are dire warnings saturating the Internet we are near the end, Armageddon is just round the corner. Only You know when that will happen. Do I believe Your wrath is already being felt? Yes, I do in many ways those who no longer believe brush off as conspiracy theories or 'natural disasters'. How wrong they are because You control everything on this earth.
God, I know there are those who write better than I do. Those who have a greater vocabulary than I do. Perhaps my musings here seem clumsy to some, but they come from my heart and fear for my country and all she has stood for these past centuries. As did those brave men and women who came before us and fought so courageously for our freedoms today, I pray millions of Americans across this country will say, 'God can you hear me?', get down on their knees and beg for your divine intervention because without it, we cannot defeat the forces of evil working feverishly to destroy that which You blessed with goodness and abundance. The birthing of this Republic was no accident. It was only through your divine intervention answering their prayers that the colonials succeeded in the war against the British.
America can only become great again with You at the helm. Our people (and hopefully billions around the world) need to pray to Jesus so they shall come to a place of peace and love instead of drowning in sin and hatred. Everyone's day comes; there's no second time around to atone for one's sins. I don't know what the future holds, but while on this earth I will continue trying to live each day in a 'state of grace' asking, 'God, can you hear me?' as I pray for all Your children on this earth. May they come to know Your love, the love of Jesus and that it's never too late to ask for forgiveness. It's never too late to live a life in service for You and ask Jesus to come into one's heart. Amen.
Links:1 - There's no Money in 'Peace on Earth'
2 - The mother, the son and God's promise
What God-less humanists and secularists don't want you to know:
3 -
The Original 13 - A Documentary History of Religion in America's first Thirteen States
4 - Christians: Beware the fox in the hen house and the Bible Literacy Project
5 - The High Price of America's Gluttony
6 - Sloth, Gluttony & The Coming Medical Financial Tsunami
© 2014 - and Devvy - All Rights Reserved
Click here to visit home page.
 Devvy Kidd authored the booklets, Why A Bankrupt America and Blind Loyalty; 2 million copies sold. Devvy appears on radio shows all over the country. She left the Republican Party in 1996 and has been an independent voter ever since. Devvy isn't left, right or in the middle; she is a constitutionalist who believes in the supreme law of the land, not some political party. Devvy is a member of the Society of Professional Journalists.Devvy's regularly posted new columns are on her site at: You can also sign up for her free email alerts.
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A Christmas Tale: Dead From the Neck Up in Australia
By Frosty Wooldridge
December 25, 2014
"It's lonely without a friend to share the road." —Doug Armstrong
Australia captivates everyone's imagination. Oz, its nickname, houses exotic creatures that defy description. Desert constitutes nine tenths of Australia. It's an ancient continent with most of its mountains flattened by millions of years of erosion.
Along its coasts, breathtaking beauty abounds in a variety of temperate zones from rain forests, to 7,000-foot mountains in the Snowy River Range of Victoria. Legends have it that British convicts populate Oz. Nothing could be further from the truth. Aussies prove some of the kindest people on the face of the earth. They possess a dry sense of humor that keeps life in perspective. "No worries me mate," gives their answer to trivial problems and not worth an anxiety attack.
A mate invited me to a party in Sydney on a Saturday afternoon a week prior to my departure on my trans-Australia crossing. A group of Aussies sang, joked and drank. They trumpeted about the hard times in Oz, and a collection of other ribald lyrics about wine, women and the Outback. At one of the high points of the party, they sang Yankee songs in my honor. Their best one was, "I'm an old cowhand, from the Rio Grande." After singing a few stanzas, a chap named Richard asked me what a Yank might be doing in Australia.
"I'm going to ride my push-bike across your country," I answered.
"You're gonna' do what?" Richard asked again.
"Ride my push-bike to Perth."
"Do you know how far that is?"
"Oh yeah," I said. "Over 3,500 kilometers."
"Did you know that you're going across the Nullabor Plains, mate?"
"Yes, I saw it on the map,"
"Do you know what Nullabor means in Aborigine?" he asked.

"No, what?"

"It means 'treeless,'" he said after swigging on a Foster's beer. "There ain't a tree for 3,500 kilometers, and it's 38 degrees (app. 115 Fahrenheit) at this time of year. It's nothin' but a bloody desert. You'll cook like an egg in a fryin' pan."
"It'll be a great adventure," I said.
"You know what mate?" he said. "I reckon you're dead from the neck up!"
Three weeks later, I arrived in Ceduna. I stopped by a restaurant. The waitress asked me where I was headed.
"I am riding to Perth," I said.
"Don’t you get lonely on the road?" she asked. "It’s Christmas in two days. Wouldn’t you like to be with your family?"
"Yes, it’s lonely," I said. "But I could be home sharing Christmas with my friends, but then, I wouldn't be out here on this great adventure across your country."
"That doesn’t sound normal," she said.
"For sure, I could go back home and be ‘normal’ any time I want," I said. "Life’s short enough. I aim to squeeze every second out of every moment. I can always be normal when I return home."
"I like your spirit," she said.
Richard proved correct about the Nullabor. The highway shot straight toward the horizon, bisecting the land into two equal halves of nothing but desert. When I left Ceduna "The Gateway To The Nullabor Plains," three signs warned travelers of animals to watch out for—wombats, camels and kangaroos. They might have added the Emu, an ostrich-like bird that inhabits the Outback. When drivers hit one with their cars, a large repair job results.
Nothing could have prepared me for that ride. I suffered under a merciless sun. The heat sucked moisture out of my pores faster than I could pour it back into my body. I carried five gallons of water in plastic jugs. A thousand times I asked myself: "Why am I out there?" Why hadn't I listened to Richard? I cooked daily in the saddle and broiled at night in my tent. To top that off, Australian bush flies attacked me every time I stopped. Those demonic monsters respected no one, and they seemed to be searching for water themselves in that desolate land.
As soon as I stopped, they attacked my eyes, mouth, nostrils and ears. I prayed for head winds. I prayed for tail winds. I got no winds. At night, flies circled my tent in an expectant swarm, trying to find a break in the netting. I lay there in my underpants, sweating in the evening heat, cursing them and waiting for sleep to take me away from their noisy torment. The one good thing I remember: I stared up at an uncommonly clear night sky with millions of twinkling stars complimented by the Southern Cross.
Each morning, I woke up before sunrise, ate breakfast and pedaled into the quickly rising heat of the day. It never dropped below 95 degrees at night and the mercury popped 115 by the afternoon. It felt like breathing air from a portable hair dryer.
The Outback defies description. Its vast landscape of red clay, and white sands reaches to the horizon in every direction. Scrub bushes grow close to the ground but they too give way to the burning 160-degree ground-level heat at midday. In many areas, nothing grows.
The only companion that I could count on was the sun--always shining and blistering hot. Because of it, and the endless immensity of the land, the Outback swallowed my confidence. I saw no reference points, no humanity for hundreds of miles. Traffic on the trans-Australia highway: sparse to nonexistent. A true sense of solitude crept into my mind.
Road houses spaced 120 miles apart, but nothing more than wooden buildings with a gas pump outside. When I reached one, my spirits rose because I knew that cold pop awaited me in their generator powered coolers. I stalked into the house, swatting bush flies and headed straight for the cooler. A liter of icy orange pop vanished into my mouth within seconds. I grabbed another before walking up to the cashier to pay the bill. A half-hour later, the roadhouse rippled in the heat waves of my rearview mirror and quickly vanished, as if it had never been there. I was back to drinking tepid water and watching miles of nothing slip by.
This routine repeated itself for weeks, until one day in the middle of the continent; I approached a turnoff where the highway touches the ocean. Before reaching it however, I cruised along, minding my own business when up ahead, I saw something move across the road. The closer I came, the bigger it grew. Finally, I focused on it. A Camel! It was a big, shaggy camel—out in the middle of nowhere. He walked up to me, sniffed my pack, then trotted north into the Outback. Later, I found out that more than 35,000 wild camels roamed the desert in Oz. They were brought in from the Middle East for transport trains from Adelaide to Alice Springs and on to Darwin, right up the middle of Australia. When mechanized transport arrived, the camels we returned loose in the desert.
Late in the day, I turned off the road for a short ride to the Great Australian Bight on the coast. Rugged cliffs offered a spectacular view. It offered the only relief I enjoyed from the bush flies for several weeks. After eating a snack, I pedaled back toward the main road.
At the juncture of the highway, a large emu stood in my way. Black feathers covered him as he stood five feet tall and weighed more than 90 pounds. The bird walked right up to me, expecting a handout. He had panhandled other tourists who had stopped at this scenic turnout. I gave him a piece of my apple.
After taking a few pictures, I decided to be on my way. The bird began running alongside me. My bike featured eighteen gears, so I started cranking it up the freewheel. With every increase in speed from me, the emu ran faster. With nothing else to do, I decided to see how fast the bird could run. I clicked into high gear, and held a good 24 miles per hour for a hundred yards. It didn't faze the emu. He thumped along with me, not even breathing hard. I, however, gasped for breath and sweated like a horse. Enough of this! I slowed down to my usual 12 miles per hour. The emu again matched my pace. What the devil?! If he didn't mind running alongside, I didn't mind his company. I talked to him—asking him about his family and kids.
"How's your mother-in-law?" I asked. "Get along with her pretty well? How does she deal with this heat? Any of your kids play cricket?"
After no answer, I continued, "Do you know of any ice cold swimming pools around here buddy? Have any friends who sell Dreamsicles? Man, could I curl my tongue around a Dreamsicle right about now."
The emu never looked over during the whole conversation, but kept perfect stride with me.
This new partnership continued for 30 miles. I really enjoyed George's (his new name) company. But it was time to call it a day, so I turned off the highway and pitched my tent a hundred meters off the road. George walked into the bush with me and stood while I cooked dinner. I threw him another piece of apple. An hour later, with the sunset, George's black silhouette pressed against the sky as he seemingly stood guard outside my tent.
"You don't have to stay here all night George. Go find your friends. I'm out of apples."
George didn't budge. I finished dinner and went to bed with him standing outside my tent. Around three o'clock, I woke up. A glance outside my tent revealed George standing guard. I felt safe.
Next morning, I woke up with my new friend standing in the same spot.
"G'day George," I said. "This is going to be a test of your character to run 150 kilometers today mate."
George snaked his beak down to my tent flap.
"Okay, you want some food," I said. "Just wait till I finish eating, okay?"
"Crazy bird," I said, talking to myself. "This is outrageous. I'm out in the middle of nowhere, 12,000 miles from home—and here you stand guard over my tent all night—in this one tiny spot on the face of the earth, and all you want is apiece of apple. It's a cheap price to pay for your friendship George."
"I couldn't agree with you more," I answered. "But you?? gotta' work on your vowels my friend."
I packed my gear and walked out to the road with George following. I fed him a piece of bread. He again took up his effortless stride alongside my bike. It felt like having my own dog as my best friend and traveling companion. After an hour, I stopped for a drink and squirted water into George's face. He pranced around in a circle like a banshee, crowing a weird sound. He loved the water.
"You're one crazy bird," I said. "Here, have another shot."
I squirted a steady stream into his face. He opened his beak and caught the water like a funnel. It drained down his throat. When half my bottle was gone, I stopped. He flapped his wings and danced around some more, squawking happily. He loved the attention. We were buddies.
Minutes later, I pedaled west, with a blazing sun rising high into the sky. Sweat dripped off my nose and chin onto the tube. I looked for George, but he wasn't with me. I looked back. He was gone. "I'll be darned," I said. "I enjoyed George's company."
I pulled around in a big circle on the highway, but no George in sight. The Outback stretched to the four horizons.
Some kind of joy faded from my spirit when George quit our partnership. Loneliness crept in again, but I told myself that it was better to have enjoyed him than never to have met him at all. He proved one lesson to me that day—all great journeys through life grow better when shared by two.
I looked around one more time, but the Outback rippled in the heat waves. Better get on with it. I had half a continent to go.
The emu George gave me the best Christmas present of my life: friendship.
From Sandi and yours truly—Merry Christmas to you and your family.
© 2014 Frosty Wooldridge - All Rights Reserved
Frosty Wooldridge possesses a unique view of the world, cultures and families in that he has bicycled around the globe 100,000 miles, on six continents and six times across the United States in the past 30 years. His published books include: "HANDBOOK FOR TOURING BICYCLISTS"; "STRIKE THREE! TAKE YOUR BASE"; "IMMIGRATION’S UNARMED INVASION: DEADLY CONSEQUENCES"; "MOTORCYCLE ADVENTURE TO ALASKA: INTO THE WIND—A TEEN NOVEL"; "BICYCLING AROUND THE WORLD: TIRE TRACKS FOR YOUR IMAGINATION"; "AN EXTREME ENCOUNTER: ANTARCTICA." His next book: "TILTING THE STATUE OF LIBERTY INTO A SWAMP." He lives in Denver, Colorado.
The Christmas Hope: A To-Do List for a Better World
My adult Christmas wish list.

December 22, 2014
"The Christmas hope for peace and good will toward all men can no longer be dismissed as a kind of pious dream of some utopian. If we don’t have good will toward men in this world, we will destroy ourselves by the misuse of our own instruments and our own power. Wisdom born of experience should tell us that war is obsolete. We must either learn to live together as brothers or we are going to perish together as fools."—Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., Christmas Eve sermon, 1967

As a child, my Christmas wish list came right out of the Sears and Roebuck catalogue—toys, board games, bikes, action figures, etc. My parents, like so many in their day, belonged to the working-class poor, so while I never lacked for the necessities of life, many of the items on my wish list never came to be. Even so, I was no worse off for it.
I wish the same could be said of those still unfulfilled items on my adult Christmas wish list. Each year, I wish for the same things—an end to war, poverty, hunger, violence and disease—and each year, I find the world relatively unchanged. Millions continue to die every year, casualties of a world that places greater value on war machines and profit margins than human life.
I’ve seen enough of the world in my 68 years to know that wishing is not enough. We need to be doing. It’s not possible to solve all of the world’s problems right away. For most people, putting an end to world hunger, poverty, disease and the police state may seem too insurmountable a task to even tackle. But as I point out in my book A Government of Wolves: The Emerging American Police State, there are practical steps each of us can take to hopefully get things moving in the right direction. Here’s what I would suggest for a start:
Tone down the partisan rhetoric, the "us" vs. "them" mentality. Politicians frequently perpetuate a "good" versus "evil," "us" versus "them" rhetoric which pits citizen against citizen and allows the politicians to advance their personal, political agendas. Instead of wasting time and resources on political infighting, which gets us nowhere, it’s time Americans learned to work together to solve the problems before us. The best place to start is in your own communities, neighbor to neighbor. After all, at the end of the day, it makes no difference what politician you voted for—Republican, Democrat or otherwise—politics will never be the answer. Politicians have mastered the art of creating dissension, but they’re all the same. Grassroots activism is the only kind of change you can count on.
Turn off the TV and tune into what’s happening in your family, in your community and your world. Read your local newspaper. Attend a school board or city council meeting. Get involved with a nonprofit that works in your community. Whatever you do, reduce your intake of mindless television and entertainment news. The only reality programming worth taking notice of is the one playing in your home and community.
Show compassion to those in need, be kind to those around you, forgive those who have wronged you, and teach your children to do the same. Increasingly, people seem to be forgetting their p’s and q’s—basic manners that were drilled into older generations. I’m talking about simple things like holding a door open for someone, helping someone stranded on the side of the road, and saying "please" and "thank you" to those who do you a service—whether it be to the teenager bagging your groceries or the family member who just passed the potatoes. As author Robert Heinlein observed, "A dying culture invariably exhibits personal rudeness. Bad manners. Lack of consideration for others in minor matters. A loss of politeness, of gentle manners, is more significant than is a riot…"
Talk less, listen more. Take less, and give more. If people spent less time dwelling on and attending to their own needs and more time trying to help and understand those around them, many of the problems we currently face could be eliminated.
Stop acting entitled and start being empowered. We have moved into the Age of Entitlement, where more and more people feel entitled to certain benefits without having to work for them. There’s nothing wrong with helping those less fortunate, but as my parents taught me, there’s a lot to be said for an honest day’s work.
Remember that all people are endowed with inalienable rights. I’ve heard a lot of chatter in recent years in favor of torturing detainees and denying basic rights to non-citizens, but doing so not only goes against everything that the U.S. is supposed to stand for, but it also goes against every principle common to all world religions—forgiveness, charity, nonjudgmentalism, nonviolence, etc. America cannot continue to lambast terrorist groups for their contempt for human life and dignity when our own nation violates these same principles time and again.
Stop being a hater. Increasingly, we as a society have come to reflect the hostility at work in the world at large. This is so even in such a virtual microcrosm as Facebook, where "unfriending" those with whom you might disagree has become commonplace. How can we ever hope to curb the hatred and animosity that have spurred global terrorism over the past few decades if we can’t even forgive the human failings of those in our immediate circles?
Learn tolerance in the true sense of the word. There’s no need to legislate tolerance through hate crime legislation and other politically correct mechanisms of compliance. True tolerance stems from a basic respect for one’s fellow man or woman. And it should be taught to children from the time they can understand right from wrong.
Treat women like people, not things. If pop culture and the media are any reflection of how women and girls are viewed today—primarily as sex objects—then one can only wonder what exactly the women’s rights movement has been doing in recent years. The use of sex and its impact on young girls is particularly troubling. As professor Henry A. Giroux observed: "Market strategists are increasingly using sexually charged images to sell commodities, often representing the fantasies of an adult version of sexuality. For instance, Abercrombie & Fitch, a clothing franchise for young people, has earned a reputation for its risqué catalogues filled with promotional ads of scantily clad kids and its over-the-top sexual advice columns for teens and preteens; one catalogue featured an ad for thongs for ten-year-olds with the words ‘eye candy’ and ‘wink wink’ written on them. Another clothing store sold underwear geared toward teens with ‘Who needs Credit Cards ...?’ written across the crotch. Children as young as six years old are being sold lacy underwear, push-up bras and ‘date night accessories’ for their various doll collections. In 2006, the Tesco department store chain sold a pole dancing kit designed for young girls to unleash the sex kitten inside."
Value your family. The traditional family, such that it is, is already in great disrepair, torn apart by divorce, infidelity, overscheduling, overwork, materialism, and an absence of spirituality. Despite the billions we spend on childcare, toys, clothes, private lessons, etc., a concern for our children no longer seems to be a prime factor in how we live our lives. And now we are beginning to see the blowback from collapsing familial relationships. Indeed, more and more, I hear about young people refusing to talk to their parents, grandparents being denied access to their grandchildren, and older individuals left to molder away in nursing homes. Yet without the family, the true building block of our nation, there can be no freedom.
Feed the hungry, shelter the homeless and comfort the lonely and broken-hearted. Volunteer at a soup kitchen. Take part in local food drives. Take a meal to a needy family. "Adopt" an elderly person at a nursing home. Support the creation of local homeless shelters in your community. Urge your churches, synagogues and mosques to act as rotating thermal shelters for the homeless during the cold winter months.
Give peace a chance. So far, the wars in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Pakistan have cost American taxpayers more than $4 trillion, and that doesn’t even begin to approach the human cost in lives lost—military and civilian—and families rent asunder. The military industrial complex has a lot to gain financially so long as America continues to wage its wars at home and abroad, but you can be sure that the American people will lose everything unless we find some way to give peace a chance. We can start by bringing all of our men and women in uniform home.
Start your own teaspoon brigade. You don’t have to solve all the world’s problems single-handedly, nor do you have to solve them overnight. Little by little, you’ll get there, but you have to start somewhere. It is up to each of us to do our part to make this a better world for all. As the legendary singer, songwriter and activist Pete Seeger once remarked to me:
I tell everybody a little parable about the "teaspoon brigades." Imagine a big seesaw. One end of the seesaw is on the ground because it has a big basket half full of rocks in it. The other end of the seesaw is up in the air because it’s got a basket one-quarter full of sand. Some of us have teaspoons, and we are trying to fill it up. Most people are scoffing at us. They say, "People like you have been trying for thousands of years, but it is leaking out of that basket as fast as you are putting it in." Our answer is that we are getting more people with teaspoons every day. And we believe that one of these days or years—who knows—that basket of sand is going to be so full that you are going to see that whole seesaw going zoop! in the other direction. Then people are going to say, "How did it happen so suddenly?" And we answer, "Us and our little teaspoons over thousands of years.

Constitutional attorney and author John W. Whitehead is founder and president of The Rutherford Institute. His new book The Freedom Wars (TRI Press) is available online at He can be contacted at Information about The Rutherford Institute is available at