Chapter Two, SPIRIT ON THE SAIL

SPIRIT ON THE SAIL

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Chapter Two

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Chubasco
The old familiar planks of the
dock bounce and creak under foot as if rejoicing at the reunion of old friends.   The recognition of a few timbers I personally replaced brings a smile to my face.  This runway was my worksite, following a couple years internship at the customer counter here at Seaforth Boat Rentals.

This homecoming rouses another old acquaintance, the Great Blue Heron, who roosts here at night. She squawks a fleeting salutation, leans over the decking, drops out of sight in hidden flight behind the rows boats, finally rising into view beyond the stately princess I am to escort to her new thrown at Harbour Island in San Diego Bay.

Drawing closer, I recognize her.  She is my favorite charter companion.  "Chubasco" is her name.  A long cord of multicolored International Code Flags gracefully wave from low, near her stern, rise all the way to the head of her 48-foot mast.  Cradled among the smaller vessels, she is a standout.  Unwilling to spoil her regal appearance, I immediately decide not to strike the flags until we are at sea. As her skipper, I approve her ostentatious display.  Besides, at this hour few if any admirers will care that it is actually improper to display code flags while underway.  

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When Catalina designed this C320 series, they compromised some performance to provide a large cockpit area and spacious cabin.  That is why her freeboard (height above water) rises a little taller than most and her beam (width) swells further aft than some.  Her cabin is so handsomely furnished that Seaforth holds some of its more important meetings there. Hardwoods, sleek fiberglass accents, with inviting dining saloon fabrics give her the feel of a small luxury suite.  Sleeping up to seven, she sports two private sleeping quarters with perfectly paired head and galley...all the comforts of home. 
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With all that, her designers still kept her classic good looks.  She seems to be leaning forward as if anticipating our launch.  Sharing her enthusiasm, I jump aboard and whisper, “Are you ready, Chubasco?”  Considering our united destiny, it is only right to address a vessel by name.  A boat and her crew enter a union of shared purpose.  

This is not just a floating contraption that I bend to my will.  We work together, in harmony with the sea, hopefully reaching a common destination.     
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Getting Under Way
By the time I go through a memorized checklist we have lost another thirty minutes.  Glancing at her standing rigging and the string of code flags once more, I determine we are ready.  If we hope to beat the forecasted storm we cannot take time to reef the sails here at the dock.  (Reefing is the process of shortening the sails so less square footage will be presented to a strong wind.)  Normally, I reef before launching, but the winds will still be light by the time we reach the ocean, so I'll see to it while underway.

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Seeking confirmation for my desision I confer with Chubasco, “Chubby, is that OK with you, sweetheart?”  Nodding her approval in the gentle waves, the decision is unanimous.  Incidentally, I know her very well and she's not offended by the nickname “Chubby,” even though, it is not that popular with terrestrial females.  After all, this is not our first date.  Not only have Chubasco and I conducted many charters together, we even took a little vacation trip to Catalina Island, a while back.  We were both much younger then and have each experienced numerous other relationships since.  Nonetheless, there has never been any jealousy between us.  We maintain an honest open relationship, with the understanding that both, she and I have professional obligations that make exclusivity impossible.      
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Jumping back on the dock I undo her bowline releasing her pretty nose from the dock, and secure it onboard to her lifeline.  Pinned, as she is, between two other vessels, fore and aft, I give her a little shove to clear the boat ahead.  Undoing the stern line, I hoist myself aboard before she leaves without me.  A short burst from the right-handed propeller, kicks us free of the dock to starboard, and we are on our way.  It is 8:36 am. 

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 We are casting off a little later than I hoped, so I reassure Chubby, “Not too bad, Girl.”
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Exiting Mission Bay’s Quivera Basin, the incoming tide flexes its most determined opposition at the narrow mouth of the basin.  Unimpressed, the healthy little Yammar diesel propels us effortlessly into the channel, passed the “No Wake” buoys, each fringed in long ribbons of seaweed, and we're on to the ocean.  

Proud Chubasco seems embarrassed, motoring down the channel.  Submitting to mechanical propulsion is disgraceful enough, but enduring the noxious exhaust fumes magnifies the indignity.  Realistically, if we were under sail now: head to wind, and against the current, we would be slowly tacking a zigzag path out the mile long channel.  To encourage her, I whisper respectfully, “This humiliation will last only a little longer.  Besides, just think of how magnificent you look with your fluttering International Code Flags.”

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Finally, we brake onto the ocean, where sea and bay collide in full orchestration.  The crashing waves noisily trumpet foam high above the rocks.  Charging out upon the rising and falling Pacific, always makes me feel as small as a Lilliputiann. Unlike the tiny people in Gulliver's Travels, we seem to be climbing onto the back of a monstrous sleeping dragon.  With each inhale we are heaved high on an incoming swell, then drop again with the following exhale.  

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Now that we are out here, it appears that an unwelcomed atmospheric feather has tickled the beast awake much earlier than anticipated.  The wavelets of this morning’s early gentle breezes are pinching-up into scattered whitecaps.  Abruptly, more numerous waves spout up, like inflamed goosebumps across the giant’s back.

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Not waiting for Chubasco’s approval, I am already in motion, “I’d better reef the sails immediately before unfurling them, because this wind is rapidly climbing above moderate.”  (A moderate breeze is up to 16 knots or so.)  The sudden change, while exhilarating, has no effect on my naive certainty that this is going to be a piece of cake. 

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 Nevertheless, my anticipated leisurely contemplated proof of God's existence is on standby, for now.  Instead, I need the reality of an intervening God to do what I should have done at the dock.  Perhaps, He will exert the care promised in the old saying, “God watches over babes and fools.” Because right now, I seem to fit into one of those two categories.

Chapter One, SPIRIT ON THE SAIL (3rd.Republication)

John B. Eppler

Saturday, September 26, 2015

SPIRIT ON THE SAIL Chapter One

SPIRIT ON THE SAIL

John B. Eppler

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A sailor discovers proof of God's existence, while sailing from Mission Bay to San Diego Bay.  His experience offers hope to others seeking personal knowledge of the reality of God for themselves.
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SPIRIT ON THE SAIL

Chapter One

Tranquil Harbor
There she is…wrapped in morning fog. The mere sight of her renews the thrill of adventure. Though anxious to get an early start, my enthusiasm is restrained by the half-remembered combination locking the gate between us. 

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Struggling with an uncertain numerical sequence cannot compete with the serenity of the moment, so I content myself with awaiting the arrival of the boat-rental staff.  Besides snug in my rain-gear, I seem to melt into the familiar haven of the marina basin, as it brightens in the damp dawn.  Foul-weather gear for sailing the Southern California coast is a bit extreme, but today’s ruff weather forecast has given me a rear excuse to try it out.

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Normally, the sun pushes the mist offshore by mid-morning, yet later this afternoon, they have issued a small craft advisory.  They expect rain with thirty-five knot winds and ocean swells from six to seven feet.  Those conditions are no threat to a thirty-two foot sailboat, like the one I'm delivering today.  However, if it was a smaller vessels I would definitely heed the warning.  An early depart will assure a safe landing behind Harbor Island, before the storm arrives.  
Realistically, I do need to get underway soon, because my ETA is only a rough estimate.  The winds and the waves will dictate the accuracy of this four to five hour passage. 
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Right now, the gently rolling mist here along the walkway barely rouses the sleepy palms, while in vain the dew seeks entry into my moisture shield.  Down on the bay, an uncommitted breeze caresses the mirrored surface, tickling it into an occasional sparkling dance. 

A fishing trawler, barely visible beneath the fog, groans with activity as a column of anchovy rich water empties into the bait barge floating alongside.  An array of disappointed seagulls, cormorants, and egrets swarm around the hatch, which completely swallows the flow.  Their anticipated cargo is actually destined  for the tanks aboard the sport-fishing vessels encircling the delivery.  

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A single laughing seagull triumphantly takes to the sky displaying his stolen morsel.  Mocking his clan he seems to challenge the others to a twisting, banking, and swooping areal display. 

The haughtiness of that victorious seagull warns me to avoid any vulgar celebration when I accomplish both of the goals I have set for myself today.

Shuttling a 32-foot sloop from Mission Bay to San Diego Bay is the most obvious goal, but personally even more important is my intention to use those hours of solo sailing, to explore a nagging question.  It's not just why I am completely convinced that God is real, but “What is my proof?”  

My own certainty is not what troubles me.  I arrived at my faith a long time ago, at the age of 28.  The problem is how can I prove God's existence to others?  Here in San Diego, people “living the dream” simply dismiss my personal testimony as a ridicules notion, the delusion of an irrational mind, and devoid of any proof.  In this aquatic paradise, where desperation vanishes with the 10:00 AM marine-layer, unproven claims like mine are easily ignored as the babblings of another old man who has lost touch with reality.  Oddly, I believe that today, while on this delivery I will discover that illusive proof.
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Taking a deep breath, here outside the boat rental office, I brush my callused fingers across my sunburned nose to fully sample the salty fragrance of Mission Bay.  Not that the aroma is so yummy...it is not.  I want to experience all I can of this enchanted place, as it casts its early morning calm over everything.

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The charm, includes that old drowsy sea lioness, napping near the bait-barge.  She is a permanent resident, floating on her back with her flippers extended up in the air, as I might stretch when getting out of bed.  Her pup barks, splashes, and jostles her, until she joins him in early morning playtime.  
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Most professional charter boat captains would resent giving up their off duty time to do a free vessel transfer…but not me.  I leap at every sailing opportunity that comes my way.  I am one of those captains the others deride as, “a boat-whore.”  At sixty-five, I look like an old seadog, but I have only been a professional skipper for five years.  I have the reputation of sailing anything, anytime, almost anywhere.  Sure, I receive no pay for this transfer, but the way I see it, they are offering me a day of solo sailing along the beautiful Southern California coastline.  Of course I'll say, "Yes!"

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Besides, I owe a debt to Seaforth Boat Rental.  They were instrumental in launching my professional sailing carrier.  Doing a routine excursion may become a mind-numbing bore someday, but that day for me is still a long way off.
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The sounds of keys jangling at the rental-office door deflate my floating thoughts.  Julia, the beautiful young blond office staff person, finally arrives.  When I see her, I almost embarrass myself, by leaping to attention.  If she didn't know me better, she might think my excitement had something to do with her short-shorts, Polo shirt, loosely flowing tresses, charming smile, and warm greeting.  However, she's heard my customary disclaimer.  I all ways tell the many pretty girls I work with in this industry, “If I ever express any appreciation for your appearance, I am NOT ‘hitting-on’ you.”  I then go on to state the obvious, “I’m too old for your mother!”  

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“Good morning Captain John.  What brings you here so early?” Julia asks.
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Throttling any indication that I formerly held her office job, I explain my assignment.  With measured hesitation, I reach for the boat key and inquire about the forgotten gate-lock combination.  Then with key in hand and combination in mined, we exchange best wishes, and I am out the door.
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Fantasy to Reality
That odd “former-employee" awkwardness still haunts me.  In my mind, working here was simply act of God, proving Himself to me one more time.  At the age of fifty-nine, I escaped from the landlocked flatlands of the Mid-West.  Even though overripe with years, I landed a job with Seaforth Boat Rental, the largest boat rental on the West coast.  They rent several hundred boats from their five locations, here in sunny San Diego.
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Seaforth was not my first employment opportunity.  Our family was settling into our new place on the hills above Mission Bay, when I came home announcing that I had accepted a job on shore.  Patsy, my wife of thirty years, asked with skepticism,
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“What kind of job?”
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Two thousand miles from any professional and social network, I was pleased to find any employment.  “Yes, it was a factory job,” I told her, “with a forty-five minute inland commute, at just above minimum wage in a desert canyon community called El Cajon,” which is Spanish for, The Box. 
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I explained, “Who cares?  At my age it’s work and a paycheck."  I further informed her, “I start tomorrow.”
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In defiance, Patsy countered, “No You Don’t!”
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Stunned, I listened as she told me, “You are hard enough to live with, now, and doing that you will be intolerable.  I will not have it.”
Giving me no time to compose myself, she then commanded, “Get in the car!  A boat rental company on the Mission Bay is hiring and we’re driving down there…Right Now.”
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My silent compliance was as much from me trying to process the idea that I could be hard to live with, as it was from the fact that I secretly nursed a fantasy of working with boats.  Though I never confessed the silly dream to her, I bragged to friends before leaving Illinois, that if I was unable to re-establish my former business out here, I would get some entry-level job with some kind of boat rental place near the ocean.
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While Patsy waited in the car, I took my place in the interview line, with some of San Diego's most attractive young women.  Even though my resume was brilliant, my clothes fit perfectly, my athletic build proclaimed good health, and enthusiasm gushed from every pore, it still looked like I was in the wrong line.  At the close of my interview, the young single male manger courteously informed me,
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“You don’t have the profile we are looking for.  Besides,” he explained, “You would likely find it hard to fit in here, with your obvious strong work ethic.”  Leaning forward he confessed with a grin, “Frankly, most of our summer crew are here just to have a good time.”
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“Well then,” I said, “you might find it refreshing to have someone like me working for you.”
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I noticed he took a moment to think that over.  However, shaking my hand, he politely informed me he would consider my application along with all of the others, but that he had many more candidates to interview before making his decision.
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I rejoined Patsy in the parking lot, admitting, “I really want that job.”  Taking her hand I said, “Let’s pray.”  I ended our petition with, “The most I can realistically ask for, God, is that my application be on the top of the pile.  Amen.”  
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I informed the factory employer, I was unable to take their offer, and I waited.  Some time passed, and Seaforth did call, but only to inform me that the positions were filled.  Their procedures required them to hold the unapproved applications for six months if the applicant requested it.
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“Yes Sir, oh yes, please do!”  I insisted.  “I really want to work for you guys!”
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Not more than ten to fifteen minutes later the phone rang again.  It was Seaforth, “If you still want the job, one of the three new hires is unable to take the position.  I called you because…well, I don’t know, exactly.  I guess it was because your application was on the top of the pile.” 

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And so, five years later I am a San Diego boat-whore, who is setting sail to discover proof of God.

CaptainJohnE

captjbeppler.blogspot.com

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NO REVERSE, NO NEUTRAL from 6/30/2016

THE 2016 ELECTION

NO REVERSE NO NEUTRAL

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No matter which side you are on, the 2016 USA election takes us to a less than desirable end.  We cannot stop the present political momentum.  However, bracing ourselves for the inevitable impact is a fruitless recourse.  

I am a sailor, not a politician, nor the son of a politician, but in my line of work, catastrophes are the norm.  A principle, I never admit to the passengers aboard a chartered cruise, but a principle I always include in my sailing classes is, 

“If nothing goes wrong, you’re not sailing.”

In that respect, sailing a boat is no different than piloting our ship of State.  Expecting calamities is an unavoidable part of the exciting experiment that is democracy.

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The excitement on a charter usually includes seeing historic  boats, impressive yachts, military vessels and aircraft, and sightings of marine life.  Add to those elements a good wind, sunshine, and in the case of one mishap, a bachelorette party of fun loving young-ladies something going wrong is inevitable.  

I was able to keep a particular bachelorette party from what seemed an unavoidable dockside disaster caused by dockhands falling all over themselves to assist the lovely ladies at the launch.  However the departure was boring compared to the way the excursion ended.

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 Returning to the assigned  berth tucked away at the back of the marina required that I power the thirty-two foot Catalina into a dead-end corridor, terminated by a riprap retaining wall of large jagged boulders.  Normally, my main concern is avoiding the expensive vessels lining the narrow approach leading to the empty slip at the far end of the dock.  

Entering the corridor under power one stops a vessel's forward momentum my putting the propeller in reverse, and hit the accelerator so the vessel can be backed into the slip.  So with the rocks a mere thirty feet ahead of us, and the dock only fifteen feet astern off our port beam, I simply put the engine in reverse and revved her up to stop the vessel so I can back it into place.  However, this time when I shifted into revers and hit the throttle, instead of stopping, the vessel surged recklessly forward towards the rocks. 

Something in the shift linkage had snapped and there was no revers or neutral, only forward!  Without reverse to stop us our forward momentum would crash us on the rocks ahead.  A starboard was blocked by a huge yacht laying on that side.  Turning to port at our present speed would create a turning radius so wide that we would smash into the dock, sink the boat, and conclude my sailing career.  

If I was going to crash into the rocks, the yacht, or the dock I would rather it be the dock.  At least the enthusiastic dockhands could rescue the women.    

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In order to give us some room for a portside turn, I allowed the 32-footer to motor as far away from the dock as possible, without striking the rocks ahead, while at the same time maneuvering within an arms length of the yacht on our right.  When we could go no further, I spun the wheel hard to port and opened the throttle full bore.  The increased propeller speed caused a surge of water it be discharged putting additional pressure against the rudder set at a exaggerated angle when I spin the helm hard to port.  The resulting phenomenon is called “prop walk”…the increased clockwise spin of the prop enhances a vessel left turn.  With the prop at full speed, I hoped the 32footer would pinwheel on its keel, and fling the stern 180° around.  If  it worked, I could just miss the dock…if not I would ram the dock at full speed.

From the wheel, some 30 feet behind the tip of the bow, I could only hold my breath as I watched the dock disappear under the boat’s lofty bow.  An eternity passed as held throttle wide open, the helm hard to port, and watched.  

At last the dock reappeared on the other side of the bow, unscathed.  I had saved the dock, the boat, and my career…not to mention the young women.  Now I had to get us out of the marina and make different approach.

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Breathing once again, I spoke to the party in the reassuring tone of one who experiences this kind if thing every day.  

"Please excuse the delay, but stay seated until we got the boat secured to the dock."

Because there was no neutral or reverse, I brought the crippled boat alongside another berth by turning the engine off and on, then calmly handed the amazed dockhand my stern line.  In an “all in a day’s sailing” manner, I thanked the women for their patience and helped them each off the boat.  

My farewell came close to expressing my sincerest sentiment, “It has been a real thrill to serve as your captain today.”  I guess they felt the same, because they each got in line and one by one gave their old skipper a big heartfelt thank you hug.  The tip they gave wasn't bad either.     

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Our national problems are far more complex than salvaging a bachelorette charter and far less serious than sinking a nation.  However, as a nation, we really have no reverse, no neutral, no safe turn either left or right, and at our present uncontrolled pace we can not avoid the rocks ahead. 

Nevertheless, if we keep our wits about us, and not panic, there is a way out of this mess.  We must remain calm so we are open to the possibility of a solution.  Remember, “If nothing goes wrong, you’re not sailing.”

        

ELUSIVE FACT republished from 9/2/2014

ELUSIVE  FACT

I was a Christian tied to a sin I could not overcome.  It had become a part of my life.  I knew the answer was in Christ but could not make that answer real until shown the simple key. 

Sin is only a symptom and never the problem. I was trying to fix something that was a part of me and who I was…beyond my control.  The real problem is the illusion resting behind sin (every sin). 

The illusion strikes hardest during moments of frustration (including stress, pain, confusion, and sorry) It happens when we experience a false sense of separated from God.

As Spirit filled Christians we know how ridicules that mis-perception is.  After all it is impossible for an omnipresent God to be absent at any time or anyplace.  His absence is an illusion dating back to the garden. 

The illusion disappears when we are conscious of God’s indwelling presence.  So the question is how do we, humans, become aware of God’s presence?  But because the answer is so simple and so easy it is ignore as trivial.  We have been led to think defeating sin is supposed to be hard.  IT IS NOT! STOP WORKING AT IT! 

The key is prayer. But not prayer to be stronger than your sin…you were never intended to be stronger than sin. If you were Jesus wasted His time dying on the cross.  My friend, that prayer is out of the will of God.

Pray for something we know is the will of God.  Ask for God consciousness.  He wants us to be aware of Him always. It is His will that you recognize His presents within you every moment of every day.  That is a prayer He will always answer when asked in faith believing. 

That is why temptation is so important.  It is our reminder that we have taken our eyes off of Him. Welcome temptation and respond by asking God to give you God consciousness.  Then rejoice at His presents, the God of the universe is in you.  You might even through in a little thanks while you are at it.

UNION WITH GOD

                 UNION WITH GOD

It is human nature to unite with what we love.  It becomes for us the most important thing in life.  If God is Love, and I believe He is, it makes sense that God loves you and me in just that way.  In light of God's love it is reasonable that He chose to become human die in order to do away with what separates us from Him.

Now, what kind of God of love would He be if no one ever loved Him back.  And that is all He wants from you and me...to love Him back.  Our reciprocal love for one another seals our mutual union.  Nothing at all can separate us from the love of God.

However, we can can pull away from Him, sometimes without knowing we have.

We threaten our union with God when the most important thing in life becomes something else...a person, a lifestyle, a cultural viewpoint, a political conviction, or any such thing.  We have pulled away when something else becomes the "object of our affection."

Four separate Christian daily devotional enter-net publishers had something to say about our union with God. They pointed out that often it is painful to recognize and then release things that we have put before the One Who loves us more than anything else.  That is until we deliberately reorder our affections, choosing to love God completely once more.

While it us true, no two Christians see eye to eye on everything.  I close with the comments taken from some of today's Christian daily devotional posts on this topic.

1) We are meant for union with God. Therefore, the soul has to become free from its attachments to finite things so as to be free for communion with God.
 (Robert Barron)

2) The shepherds...Men who didn’t have a reputation to protect or an ax to grind or a ladder to climb. Men who didn’t know enough to tell God that angels don’t sing to sheep and that messiahs aren’t found wrapped in rags and sleeping in a feed trough.
They knelt before the One only the meek will see. They were kneeling in front of Jesus.
 (Max Lucado)

3) Jesus, we worship you as King of Kings and Lord of lords. You are my King. You have rule over my heart and my life, my thoughts and time and goals. I bow to You only and give you full and free reign over my life. Help me not to grip anything so tightly that I am unwilling to release it to You. You are a just King; our Prince of Peace. Help me to desire Your kingdom above that of my own making and bow to Your will above my own.
 (Lisa Appelo)

4) When Jesus taught, “If anyone wants to follow me, let them renounce themselves!” (Mark 8:34; Luke 9:23), Jesus meant a radical surrendering of our will to Another whom we trust more than ourselves.
 (Richard Rohr)

PERFECTION WITHIN

Internal unrest results from being out of step with what we know within is Perfect.  That is as true for nations as it us for individuals.  There is a knowledge of the Perfect preprogrammed into every human being.

When we choose to turn away from the Perfect, as we all do, we not only feel guilty about it, but we step into the unavoidable perils of an imperfect life.

However, there is a way out of the mess.  It sounds ridiculous, but there is a Perfect solution, because there is a Perfect God.  So, stay with me while I tell you what this Perfect God has done.

The Perfect God became a Perfect man, in the person of Christ Jesus, who did what was necessary for us to be rescued from lives full of guilt and imperfection.

 BTW just so you know, the term for walking out of step with what you know is Perfect, good, right, and True is called sin. It is choosing something or someone over the Spirit of God within you. Because God is Perfect, we make ourselves His enemy when we choose the imperfect instead of Him.

So, the knowledge of the Perfect was given by the Spirit God through the Perfect Son of God, who by His crucifixion victory made His Perfect Spirit available to all.  By turning from the imperfect to His Perfect Spirit within, and yielding to God's Perfection, saves us from our sin and guilt.

But like any gift, this spiritual gift must be accepted before it becomes the possession of its intended recipient.  The spiritual act of acceptance Him is called "faith"...trusting the gift Giver.

As we trust the Perfect Spirit of God within us, yielding to Him as our Lord (our loving boss and champion), we will not just walk in step with what we know is good, right and True, but we will live in step with our Perfect God.  This harmonious union is called salvation.  It is His way of rescuing us from the eternal harm we've caused ourselves by being out of step with ourselves and Him.

If you have not yet accepted His gift, or if you have, but have since allowed yourself to accept an imperfect rescuing imposter, hero, or champion turn back to your Perfect God, whose loving gift remains an eternal offer.

A Case for DEMOCRATIC CHRISTIANITY

A Case and Defence of
DEMOCRATIC CHRISTIANITY

Christians are separated politically.  

Christian Democrats express their political allegiance in Christ's name by working within the political structure democratically.  Their political involvement is not a compromise with the world, or a surrender to heathens or heretics, or a capitulation to influences of the word.

Instead, their civic mission is to saturate political life with "the more important matters of the law: justice, mercy and faithfulness (Matt. 23:23b)."  Because our Democratic-Republic is not a theocracy, their mission is to carryout God's will within the structure of the State.   Therefore, Christian Democrats are obligated to work with the given political culture, much of which is humanistic, naturalistic, materialistic, and empirically based.  To fulfil their God given calling, they must patiently work to influence the political world in ways that bring it incrementally closer to God's ideal.

Christian Democrats are guilty of being social reformers.  Like former Christian reformers throughout history they are not bringing something heathen or heretical into Christianity.  On the contrary, they are bringing Christianity into the world*1."  Their political mission is not to disassemble and reassemble institutional structures, but to  the work within them to redeem and restore their moral political potential.

More importantly, the ultimate goal for the Christian Democrat is not to impose Christian morality on the citizens, nor is it simply the creation of a moral and just governmental structure, but Christian Democrats are called to assure a just and free environment in which the Gospel can flourish harmoniously within society.

Many other Christians consider Christian Democrats immoral apostates following the world's corrupt liberal passions.  Instead faithful to God's calling, the opposite is true.  They actually stand against the destructive forces of self-interest, which naturally corrupt moral judgement of any political system.

When considering matters of good and evil Christians of all persuasions rely on the Biblical record of Christ's life, teaching, death, and resurrection as their authority.  Because Jesus didn't specify a specific political system Christians must seek to influence the existing system in conformity with Christ's principles; "love thy neighbor as thy self", and "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

Both D. & R. Christians must rely on the guidance of the Holy Spirit to inform their moral intuition within political limits, which means any moral judgement that does not contradict the Bible or the Spirit is worthy of thoughtful political implementation.  C. S. Lewis offers some practical suggestions in determining those political limits.

Lewis claimed that buried within each person's conscience is a universal consistent basic "moral intuition."  It operates as an intuitive awareness that rules our appetites and passions.  This moral intuition, over time retreats behind self-interest (sin).  Nevertheless, Lewis described this moral intuition in its most basic form as an understanding that, "love is good and hatred is bad, and that helping is good and harming bad."*2  In other words moral intuition is the law of love given by Christ Jesus.*3

The ultimate desire of all Christianity is that everyone will enter a relationship with God through Christ and be saved from life-corrupting sin.  So it is disappointing, that Christianity is divided politically, and that the wedge separating them is moral.  Yet, the tragedy persists.  It is not that one wants sin to continue and the other wants it to cease.  It's a matter of how to best achieve the moral goals they share.

One side believes moral behavior can and should be forcibly imposed on a diverse citizenry, while the other side believes forced morality only compounds and increases immorality among those who choose to evade or profit from their defiance.

Therefore, the division between Christian D's and R's is not over an obligation to follow God's moral law, but the emphasis placed on two different means of achieving moral compliance.  The R Christians and even the none Christians Rs, believe that top down governmental pressure can successfully demand obedience to the moral law, while Christian D's propose other strategies .

Throughout the Bible we are given proof that the law imposed from above is an ineffective method of producing morality in a nation or in individuals.  Morality is not a trickle-down commodity.  Establishing, or rather redeeming the rule of God's implanted moral intuition requires a change from the inside out, not the outside in.

Unfortunately, even though both D & R Christians can agree on the same moral obligations, they continue to argue over the most effective and just way of achieving God's moral ends politically.  The problem then is two different points of view.  One believes that government can and should mold the moral character of its citizens.  The other believes political force can never do what religion is ordained by God to do.  And so not only do they argue, but accuse each other of every form of evil imaginable, forgetting that both arguing*4 and slander are immoral.


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*1 St. Thomas Aquinas
     by G. K. Chesterton
*2 Why I'm Not A Pacifist
     by. C. S. Lewis
*3 Mark 12:30-31
*4 Titus 3:9
*5 2Tim. 3:15