When you are lying on your deathbed, reflecting on how your life has been spent, you’re not going to lament that you didn’t make more money or wish you had accrued more power. You’ll be thinking about one thing and one thing only: “I wish I had listened to Mr. Rob Is Right.” Soon after these despairing thoughts, your monitor flatlines in your grimy hospital room, then beeps to summon the Babushka nurse. Without showing a trace of emotion, she pulls the sheet over your head. No family members are with you; they are either in the gulag or were long ago terminated as enemies of the state. As your spirit floats upward, you look down and see your bones tossed into a common grave, and again you say to yourself: “Damn, that Rob Smith was right all along.”
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair….”
I’ve been on a British literature kick and just read A Tale of Two Cities. A lady friend of mine said, “Oh, what a wonderful love story.” That never crossed my mind. All I could think about was the Guillotine and how easily the Reign of Terror could occur here if unhinged leftists get their way.
Our founding documents—the Declaration, the Constitution, the Bill of Rights—are brilliant, but their brilliance emanates from the Founders’ understanding of natural law.
I remember the scene in Chariots of Fire concerning whether Eric Liddell would run on Sunday. Lord Cadogan said to the Duke of Sutherland: “In my day it was King first and God after.” When I first saw that movie, my response was “Hell yeah!” I agreed. But the years since have given me greater perspective.
Because I’m pretty much the smartest guy in the world, I recognized from an early age America’s special place in world history. As a younger man, I was jingoistic. But now I recognize that American exceptionalism emanated from our Founders’ faith in the tenets of Christianity as the underpinning of representative government. This is the mortar binding the bricks of our national structure. Without it, the foundation crumbles.
On many occasions in this column, I’ve expressed my faith. There is divine truth, and there is unpleasant truth. The divine truth is revealed to all of us. Even the most hardened atheist recognizes this divine order, though he refuses to admit it. It’s right in front of us all the time. I remember watching the sunrise one morning amidst the hills and foliage of the Shenandoah Valley. Holy shit, I said. Of course! The miracle of nature in all its glory is God telling us: “Hey, you bunch of dumbasses, I created this, pay attention. I’m right here—all the time.”
I owe another eureka moment to C.S. Lewis, particularly the opening chapter of Mere Christianity, in which he explained natural law—or, as he termed it, “the law of human nature.” Why is it that deep in our conscience, across every culture, we all know the difference between right and wrong? Sure, we often break that law, but most of us experience guilt when we do. All law derives from a source. God’s law is invisible, but somehow we all know it.
Perhaps my most important epiphany was 23 years ago on a mission trip to Honduras with my church. I had been there two or three days. I’m one of those Teutonic fixer types. The country was corrupt, inefficient, and crime-ridden. My buddy Steve Long and I were depressed. What impact could we possibly make on such a place? I told him the only way it would ever “be fixed” was if the U.S. sent in the Marines, cleaned it up, and ran it.
Then, a day or two later, I saw church member Hillary West at the orphanage where we were serving. She was holding a baby. That was it—just holding and loving a baby. Then it hit me: We are not here to fix these people’s country. Our task is simply to love others. That’s it. Agape love.
Endemic in agape love is the absence of hatred, and this brings me to the aforementioned “unpleasant truth”: the existence of evil. Evil also has a source, and that source is Mr. Screwtape himself. He lurks in the shadows, whispering clever lies in our ears. He tells us what we want to hear. A master manipulator, he leads us away from the divine and into darkness.
“Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.” Paul’s message in Ephesians 6:11 is to recognize Lucifer’s trickery and to say, as Jesus did: “Get behind me, Satan.”
Growing up an Episcopalian, I never heard much about Satan from the pulpit. It was mostly feel-good claptrap. But folks—have I ever been wrong about anything? No! So listen: evil exists, and it comes from a source.
The opposite of agape love—and of all the tenets of Christianity—is hatred and jealousy. These are the central tenets of the Left. Indeed, hatred and jealousy are the tools the Left uses to recruit new members. Screwtape’s agents at work.
I have studied and have a good grounding in the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror, Dickens’ masterpiece enveloped me as though living in 1793 Paris, trapped by hysterical darkness. People scream with joy as another head rolls off the Guillotine, as if their team had just scored a touchdown. I wasn’t reading about darkness, I felt it.
We live in the most prosperous time in history. For every segment of society, living standards are unimaginably higher than they were 50 years ago. The engine that has produced this incredible wealth is capitalism. Rich people. All of civilization’s material and civic progress comes from the supply of capital, put to work by its owners. It benefits all and lifts all to higher living standards.
I’m all for tax cuts, reduced spending, and less regulation. Capitalism and Judeo-Christian values go hand in hand: respect for the individual, fairness, trade based on trust, property rights and our legal system. If we lose this culture, we lose everything. So, while we are all watching the ticker tape and advocating for growth-oriented fiscal policies, we must not focus so much on the trees that we neglect the forest.
Does capitalism increase disparity? Of course. But the alternative is no wealth production, no societal advancement, grinding poverty for all, slavery, and death. Disparity is Lucifer’s greatest sales pitch—just as it was for the Serpent in the Garden: “Eve, ole gal, you might think you’ve got this perfect life, but it just isn’t fair you can’t have that apple.”
And here is our challenge: if we don’t recognize that Beelzebub is whispering to the unarmored, telling them to be jealous and hate those who are richer, better looking, or more popular, we will lose our country. My social media feed is filled with screaming, hate-filled lunatics at “No Kings,” “No Elon,” and various LGBTQ Pride festivals. Look at their hatred and you’ll see masses of people who would absolutely cheer as bloody heads roll off the Guillotine and down the street.
One of the more interesting feeds I follow features a soft-spoken street preacher who attends these leftist rallies. Remember Reagan in The Exorcist? Same thing. Their reaction to hearing “the word” is to erupt into a demonic, unhinged, foaming-at-the-mouth frenzy. It is as if Holy Water was thrown on them, burning and lacerating their skin. It’s very unsettling.
The greatest national challenge is to allow the Spirit to bring agape love into people’s hearts. We are to love others and not covet what they have. There’s no peace in hating others. You can hate what they do, but everyone has a soul, and hating their souls is tantamount to hating God.
Okay, you didn’t click on RealClearMarkets to hear a sermon—especially from a no-good rascal like myself—but I’m telling you, this stuff is important. If we as a nation take our eye off the ball, you’ll be eating a bowl of thin, watery gruel in a Siberian labor camp faster than you can say Gulag Archipelago.
