A Happy, Happy, Happy Christmas


Normally we don’t permit anonymous offerings here at SteveDeace.com, but given the quality of the content we decided to make an exception for our friend who works in the mainstream media. He may be fired for putting his name on such a column. Merry Christmas from the Steve Deace Show.

Isn’t it amazing how perfect God’s timing is? Right before we celebrate the feast of the Lord made flesh, there is the voice of a modern day wild man crying out in the desert. He is dressed in camo instead of camel’s hair, and is prone to eating frog legs instead of locusts and wild honey. He is proclaiming that we must make straight our very crooked paths. John the Baptist lives in the person of Phil Robertson.

Just as the Pharisees and Sadducees came asking questions of Jesus’ cousin, so too did GQ magazine come calling on Robertson to explain himself.

That’s a vital point of order in both cases. Neither John the Baptist nor Robertson came bulldozing into anyone’s living room. They simply made it clear where they could be found if anyone was interested in hearing what they had to say. Bottom line for the culture: Don’t beg the question if you don’t want to hear the answer. Because when the answer comes, it begs humility.“Repent,” proclaimed John the Baptist. “Sin, it’s not logical, my man,” extols Robertson.

Neither answer is a favorite of mankind. Not 2,000 years ago. Not today. We want what we want. A brood of vipers indeed. In the Gospels, those vipers’ lame defense to John the Baptist that “We have Abraham as our father” is just another version of the Robertson-haters “I was born this way” ethos. Both claims are a dodge.

Twerk all you want, but God isn’t impressed.

John the Baptist said we must bear good fruit. Robertson’s version of that is hyper-specific to match the decadence of our age: Either put tab A in slot B, or you are just plain doing it wrong. Crude, you say? Grow up. If Jon Stewart said it, you’d laugh like a bunch of drunken monkeys.

In the end, here it is: We are, in truth, “born not by natural generation nor by human choice nor by a man’s decision but of God.”

It is a lesson of history, though, that not only do we forget this truth over and over again, but it takes a man or a woman outside the know-it-all class to drive that point home. We hate the wild man because our lies haven’t tamed him. We want his head on a platter so we can go back to pretending the earth is flat.

Yet, still and always, there will be another way.

“If the human race loved each other and they loved God, we would just be better off,” Roberston told GQ. That’s the sound of a “happy, happy, happy” Christmas. Jesus is on the way.

Well done, Phil.