From the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life comes this interesting news:

Many of these “mosque chains” brand themselves as progressive, and sometimes feature gymnasiums and mixed-gender prayer areas for men and women. Some groups even host weekly services at churches or synagogues with the expressed goal of fostering interfaith goodwill.

“If they weren’t Muslim, they’d look like one of the biggest Catholic churches you’d ever seen, from an organizational standpoint,” said Marshall Medaf, president of the Beth Chaverim Reform Congregation in Ashburn, Va., which last month agreed to rent prayer space to the All-Dulles Area Muslim Society.

Memo to Rick Warren and Bill Hybels: When adherents of a false religion can take the methodolgy of today’s seeker-sensitive megachurch and apply it to their own success, the model obviously is not a biblical one.

This video speaks for itself…

From Howard Friedman at Religion Clause blog:

Earlier this month, the Berkley Center for Religion, Peace & World Affairs launched it Faith 2008 database. The website tracks religious rhetoric in the Presidential campaign by candidate and theme. The site also gives historical and international example of religious rhetoric in politics.

   

It’s too bad the indignation over the cartoon is not applied evenly. When Rolling Stone published a cartoon of John McCain in a Vietnam bamboo jail being tortured by other candidates a couple of months ago, no uproar could be heard. And though George Bush is portrayed as a mentally deficient simian (for the millionth unimaginative time), there is rarely talk of a pox of “tasteless” journalism.

It seems there is an organized effort among the influencers of the comedy class in American media to rule out of bounds any comedic portrayal of Barack Obama. See Bill Carter’s New York Time’s story: Want Obama in a punch line? First, find a joke.

The July 3rd issue of The Economist has a provocatively titled essay, White Men Can Vote, which points out:

According to the polls, Mr Obama beats Mr McCain in nearly every group except white men. Unfortunately for Mr Obama, there are a lot of white men. In 2004 they were roughly 36% of the electorate, and they preferred George Bush to John Kerry by about 25 points. This year, Mr McCain leads Mr Obama by about 20 points among them.

. . . . . . . .

[David Paul] Kuhn thinks the Democrats’ failure to take white men seriously is the main reason they keep losing presidential elections. The party captures liberal white men—typically prosperous professionals—but scores badly among businessmen and white male workers. Part of the problem is that Democrats are identified with the notion that white men are to blame for all the world’s ills, from racism to the oppression of the workers. Few white men share this view. Many are workers themselves.

The Economist piece also points out that “[t]he “people” section on [Obama's] website divides Americans into 17 categories: Latinos, women, First Americans, environmentalists, lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered people, Americans with disabilities, Asian-Americans and Pacific islanders and so on. There is no mention of whites, or men.”

David Paul Kuhn is Senior Political Reporter for Politico.com and author of The Neglected Voter: White Men and the Democratic Dilemma. He’s my first guest on the Wednesday, July 16 edition of The Paul Edwards Program.

The Washington Post isn’t known for its support of conservative positions. Its editorial in Wednesday’s edition parses Barack Obama’s Iraq speech, pointing out the Senator’s glaring inconsistencies. Here’s the editorial in its entirety:

Barack Obama yesterday accused President Bush and Sen. John McCain of rigidity on Iraq: “They said we couldn’t leave when violence was up, they say we can’t leave when violence is down.” Mr. Obama then confirmed his own foolish consistency. Early last year, when the war was at its peak, the Democratic candidate proposed a timetable for withdrawing all U.S. combat forces in slightly more than a year. Yesterday, with bloodshed at its lowest level since the war began, Mr. Obama endorsed the same plan. After hinting earlier this month that he might “refine” his Iraq strategy after visiting the country and listening to commanders, Mr. Obama appears to have decided that sticking to his arbitrary, 16-month timetable is more important than adjusting to the dramatic changes in Iraq.

Mr. Obama’s charge against the Republicans was not entirely fair, since Mr. Bush has overseen the withdrawal of five American brigades from Iraq this year, and Mr. McCain has suggested that he would bring most of the rest of the troops home by early 2013. Mr. Obama’s timeline would end in the summer of 2010, a year or two before the earliest dates proposed recently by members of the Iraqi government. The real difference between the various plans is not the dates but the conditions: Both the Iraqis and Mr. McCain say the withdrawal would be linked to the ability of Iraqi forces to take over from U.S. troops, as they have begun to do. Mr. Obama’s strategy allows no such linkage — his logic is that a timetable unilaterally dictated from Washington is necessary to force Iraqis to take responsibility for the country.

At the time he first proposed his timetable, Mr. Obama argued — wrongly, as it turned out — that U.S. troops could not stop a sectarian civil war. He conceded that a withdrawal might be accompanied by a “spike” in violence. Now, he describes as “an achievable goal” that “we leave Iraq to a government that is taking responsibility for its future — a government that prevents sectarian conflict and ensures that the al-Qaeda threat which has been beaten back by our troops does not reemerge.” How will that “true success” be achieved? By the same pullout that Mr. Obama proposed when chaos in Iraq appeared to him inevitable.

Mr. Obama reiterated yesterday that he would consult with U.S. commanders and the Iraqi government and “make tactical adjustments as we implement this strategy.” However, as Mr. McCain quickly pointed out, he delivered his speech before traveling to Iraq — before his meetings with Gen. David H. Petraeus and the Iraqi leadership. American commanders will probably tell Mr. Obama that from a logistical standpoint, a 16-month withdrawal timetable will be difficult, if not impossible, to fulfill. Iraqis will say that a pullout that is not negotiated with the government and disregards the readiness of Iraqi troops will be a gift to al-Qaeda and other enemies. If Mr. Obama really intends to listen to such advisers, why would he lock in his position in advance?

“What’s missing in our debate,” Mr. Obama said yesterday, “is a discussion of the strategic consequences of Iraq.” Indeed: The message that the Democrat sends is that he is ultimately indifferent to the war’s outcome — that Iraq “distracts us from every threat we face” and thus must be speedily evacuated regardless of the consequences. That’s an irrational and ahistorical way to view a country at the strategic center of the Middle East, with some of the world’s largest oil reserves. Whether or not the war was a mistake, Iraq’s future is a vital U.S. security interest. If he is elected president, Mr. Obama sooner or later will have to tailor his Iraq strategy to that reality.

I love the game of Baseball, but last night I sat fixated in front of the television in a way a sporting event as never captivated me. The talk of the Home Run Derby is a young man from the Texas Rangers by the name of Josh Hamilton, but I’m betting you don’t know the rest of his story.

Watch the video below of his 28 home runs to set a first round record in the Home Run Derby. Then scroll on down to read his testimony from a year ago in ESPN The Magazine when he was with the Cincinnati Reds.

“I’m proof that hope is never lost”
by Josh Hamilton (as told to Tim Keown)
ESPN The Magazine - July 5, 2007

To let you know how far I’ve come, let me tell you where I’ve been.

Not that long ago, there were nights I went to sleep in strange places praying I wouldn’t wake up. After another night of bad decisions, I’d lie down with my heart speeding inside my chest like it was about to burst through the skin. My thinking was clouded, and my talent was one day closer to being totally wasted.

I prayed to be spared another day of guilt and depression and addiction. I couldn’t continue living the life of a crack addict, and I couldn’t stop, either. It was a horrible downward spiral that I had to pull out of, or die. I lay there — in a hot and dirty trailer in the North Carolina countryside, in a stranger’s house, in the cab of my pickup — and prayed the Lord would take me away from the nightmare my life had become.

When I think of those terrible times, there’s one memory that stands out. I was walking down the double-yellow of a two-lane country highway outside Raleigh when I woke up out of a trance.

I was so out of it I had lost consciousness, but my body had kept going, down the middle of the road, cars whizzing by on either side. I had run out of gas on my way to a drug dealer’s house, and from there I left the truck and started walking. I had taken Klonopin, a prescription antianxiety drug, along with whatever else I was using at the time, and the combination had put me over the edge. It’s the perfect example of what I was: a dead man walking.

And now, as I stand on the green grass of a major league outfield or walk to the batter’s box with people cheering for me, I repeatedly ask myself one simple question: How did I get here from there?

I’ve been in the big leagues as a member of the Cincinnati Reds for half a season, but I still find myself taking off my cap between pitches and taking a good look around. The uniform, the ballparks, the fans — it doesn’t seem real. How am I here? It makes no sense to anybody, and I feel almost guilty when I have to tell people, over and over, that I can’t answer that one simple question.

I go to sleep every night with a clear mind and a clear conscience. Every day, I walk into an immaculate clubhouse with 10 TVs and all the food I can eat, a far cry from the rat-infested hellholes of my user past. I walk to my locker and change into a perfectly clean and pressed uniform that someone else hung up for me. I grab a bat and a glove and walk onto a beautifully manicured field to play a game for a living.

How am I here? I can only shrug and say, “It’s a God thing.” It’s the only possible explanation.

There’s a reason my prayers weren’t answered during those dark, messed-up nights I spent scared out of my mind. There’s a reason I have this blessed and unexpected opportunity to play baseball and tell people my story.

My wife, Katie, told me this day would come. At my lowest point, about three years ago, when I was wasting away to skin and bones and listening to nobody, she told me I’d be back playing baseball someday. She had no reason to believe in me. During that time, I did nothing to build my body and everything to destroy it. I’d go five or six months without picking up a ball or swinging a bat. By then, I’d been in rehab five or six times — on my way to eight — and failed to get clean. I was a bad husband and a bad father, and I had no relationship with God. Baseball wasn’t even on my mind.

And still Katie told me, “You’re going to be back playing baseball, because there’s a bigger plan for you.” I couldn’t even look her in the eye. I said something like, “Yeah, yeah, quit talking to me.”

She looks pretty smart, doesn’t she? I have a mission now. My mission is to be the ray of hope, the guy who stands out there on that beautiful field and owns up to his mistakes and lets people know it’s never completely hopeless, no matter how bad it seems at the time. I have a platform and a message, and now I go to bed at night, sober and happy, praying I can be a good messenger.

Addiction is a humbling experience. Getting it under control is even more humbling. I got better for one reason: I surrendered. Instead of asking to be bailed out, instead of making deals with God by saying, “If you get me out of this mess, I’ll stop doing what I’m doing,” I asked for help. I wouldn’t do that before. I’d been the Devil Rays’ No. 1 pick in the 1999 draft, supposedly a five-tool prospect. I was a big, strong man, and I was supposed to be able to handle my problems myself. That didn’t work out so well.

Every day I’m reminded that my story is bigger than me. It never fails. Every time I go to the ballpark, I talk to people who are either battling addictions themselves or trying to help someone else who is. Who talks to me? Just about everybody. I walked to the plate to lead off an inning in early May, minding my own business, when the catcher jogged out to the mound to talk to his pitcher. As I was digging in, the home plate umpire (I’m intentionally not naming him) took off his mask and walked around the plate to brush it off. He looked up at me and said, “Josh, I’m really pulling for you. I’ve fought some battles myself, and I just want you to know I’m rooting for you.”

A father will tell me about his son while I’m signing autographs. A mother will wait outside the players’ parking lot to tell me about her daughter. They know where I’ve been. They look to me because I’m proof that hope is never lost.

They remind me that this isn’t really about baseball. It’s amazing that God allowed me to keep my baseball talents after I sat out three years and played only 15 games last season in A-ball. On May 6, I hit two homers against the Rockies at home, and I felt like I did in high school. I felt like I could do anything on the field.

I’ve been called the biggest surprise in baseball this year, and I can’t argue with that. If you think about it, how many people have gone from being a crack addict to succeeding at anything, especially something as demanding as major league baseball? If I hadn’t been picked up by the Reds after the Rule 5 draft, which opened up a major league roster spot for me, I’d probably still be in A-ball. Instead, I’m hanging around .270 with 13 homers through 60 games with Cincinnati; not bad for a 26-year-old major league rookie. But the way I look at it, I couldn’t fail. I’ve been given this platform to talk about the hell I’ve been through, so it’s almost like I need to do well, like I don’t have a choice.

This may sound crazy, but I wouldn’t change a thing about my path to the big leagues. I wouldn’t even change the 26 tattoos that cover so much of my body, even though they’re the most obvious signs of my life temporarily leaving the tracks. You’re probably thinking, Bad decisions and addiction almost cost him his life, and he wouldn’t change anything? But if I hadn’t gone through all the hard times, this whole story would be just about baseball. If I’d made the big leagues at 21 and made my first All-Star team at 23 and done all the things expected of me, I would be a big-time baseball player, and that’s it.

Baseball is third in my life right now, behind my relationship with God and my family. Without the first two, baseball isn’t even in the picture. Believe me, I know.

***** I’LL NEVER forget Opening Day in Cincinnati. When they called my name during introductions and a sellout crowd stood and cheered, I looked into the stands and saw Katie and our two kids — Sierra, who’s nearly 2, and my 6-year-old stepdaughter, Julia — and my parents and Katie’s parents. I had to swallow hard to keep from breaking down right there. They were all crying, but I had to at least try to keep it together.

I pinch-hit in the eighth inning of that game against the Cubs, and Lou Piniella decided to make a pitching change before I got to the plate. The crowd stood and cheered me for what seemed like forever. It was the best sound I’ve ever heard. When I got into the box, Cubs catcher Michael Barrett looked up at me from his crouch and said, “You deserve it, Josh. Take it all in, brother. I’m happy for you.” I lined out to left, but the following week I got my first start and my first hit — a home run.

Whether I hit two bombs or strike out three times, like I did in a game against the Pirates, I never forget that I’m living with addiction. It’s just part of my life. Johnny Narron, my former manager’s brother, is a big part of my recovery. He’s the Reds’ video coordinator, and he once coached me in fall baseball when I was 15. He looks after me on the road. When they pass out meal money before a trip — always in cash — they give mine to Johnny, and he parcels it out to me when I need it.

I see no shame in that; it’s just one of the realities of my situation. I don’t need to be walking around with $400 in my pocket.

I know I’m different, and my teammates have been very accepting. Being a rookie in the big leagues, there are certain rituals involved, and one of them is carrying beer onto the plane. My teammates gave me that job on one of the first road trips, and I didn’t do it. I didn’t think it would be a good idea for me to be seen carrying beer onto a plane. They respected my decision.

I get a lot of abuse in visiting cities, but it only bothers me when people are vulgar around kids. The rest I can handle. Some of it is even funny. In St. Louis, I was standing in rightfield when a fan yelled, “My name is Josh Hamilton, and I’m a drug addict!” I turned around and looked at him with my palms raised to the sky. “Tell me something I don’t know, dude,” I said. The whole section started laughing and cheering, and the heckler turned to them and said, “Did you hear that? He’s my new favorite player.” They cheered me from that point on.

I live by a simple philosophy: Nobody can insult me as much as I’ve insulted myself. I’ve learned that I have to keep doing the right things and not worry about what people think. Fortunately, I have a strong support group with Katie, my family and Johnny. If I ever get in a bad situation, I know I would have to get out of it and give Johnny a call. The key is not getting myself into those situations, but we’ve talked about having a plan for removing myself just in case. It’s all part of understanding the reality of the addiction.

In spring training, when I hit over .400 and made the team, there was a lot of interest in my story.

I decided to be open about what happened to me; early on, I was doing long interviews before my first game in every city. It’s been amazing how people have responded, and I think being honest helped. I can’t avoid my past, so I don’t try. It’s not always easy, though. I got sick in late May and ended up on the disabled list after going to the hospital with a stomach problem, and I knew I’d have to answer questions about whether I was using again. I can’t control what people think, but the years of drug abuse tore up my immune system pretty good. I get tested three times a week, and if it comes back positive, I know I’m done with baseball for life.

Aside from our struggles as a team, this season has been a dream for me. And that’s fitting, because in a way I had to learn how to dream all over again. When I was using, I never dreamed. I’d sleep the dead, dreamless sleep of a stalled brain. When I stopped using, I found my dreams returned. They weren’t always good dreams; most of the ones I remember were haunting and dark. They stayed with me long after I woke up.

Within my first week of sobriety in October 2005 — after I showed up at my grandmother’s house in Raleigh in the middle of the night, coming off a crack binge — I had the most haunting dream. I was fighting the devil, an awful-looking thing. I had a stick or a bat or something, and every time I hit the devil, he’d fall and get back up. Over and over I hit him, until I was exhausted and he was still standing.

I woke up in a sweat, as if I’d been truly fighting, and the terror that gripped me makes that dream feel real to this day. I’d been alone for so long, alone with the fears and emotions I worked so hard to kill. I’m not embarrassed to admit that after I woke up that night, I walked down the hall to my grandmother’s room and crawled under the covers with her. The devil stayed out of my dreams for seven months after that. I stayed clean and worked hard and tried to put my marriage and my life back together. I got word in June 2006 that I’d been reinstated by Major League Baseball, and a few weeks afterward, the devil reappeared.

It was the same dream, with an important difference. I would hit him and he would bounce back up, the ugliest and most hideous creature you could imagine. This devil seemed unbeatable; I couldn’t knock him out. But just when I felt like giving up, I felt a presence by my side. I turned my head and saw Jesus, battling alongside me. We kept fighting, and I was filled with strength. The devil didn’t stand a chance.

You can doubt me, but I swear to you I dreamed it. When I woke up, I felt at peace. I wasn’t scared. To me, the lesson was obvious: Alone, I couldn’t win this battle. With Jesus, I couldn’t lose.

***** I GET cravings sometimes, and I see it as the devil trying to catch me in a weak moment. The best thing I can do is get the thought out of my mind as soon as I can, so it doesn’t turn into an obsession. When it happens, I talk to him. I talk to the devil and say, “These are just thoughts, and I’m not going to act on them.” When I talk like that, when I tell him he’s not going to get the best of me, I find the thought goes away sooner.

Believe it or not, talking to the devil is no harder to explain than many other experiences I’ve had since that day last December when my life changed. I was working for my brother’s tree service in Raleigh, sending limbs through a chipper, when I found out I’d been selected by the Cubs and traded to the Reds in the Rule 5 draft.

But there is one story that sticks with me, so much so that I think of it every day. I was driving out of the players’ parking lot at Great American Ball Park after a game in May, with Katie and our two girls. There’s always a group of fans standing at the curb, hoping to get autographs, and I stop to sign as many as I can.

And on this particular night, a little boy of about 9 or 10, wearing a Reds cap, handed me a pen and something to sign. Nothing unusual there, but as I was writing the boy said, “Josh, you’re my savior.”

This stopped me. I looked at him and said, “Well, thank you. Do you know who my savior is?”

He thought for a minute. I could see the gears turning. Finally, he smiled and blurted out, “Jesus Christ.” He said it like he’d just come up with the answer to a test. “That’s exactly right,” I said.

You see, I may not know how I got here from there, but every day I get a better understanding of why.

A few months ago I read Greg Mortenson’s compelling book, Three Cups of Tea. After a failed attempt at climbing K2 in Pakistan he found himself at the mercy of Muslims in a small village at the base of the mountain who nursed him back to health. Long story short, he repaid them by helping them fund the building of a school for girls in their village, a mission that has since taken on a life of its own and resulted in the building of numerous schools throughout Pakistan and Afghanistan. Mr. Mortenson tells his story in a fast-paced thrill-a-minute account in Three Cups of Tea.

Somewhat off-putting is the underlying political message of the book. One is left with the impression that the American answer to Islamic radicalism is only to drop bombs on innocent villagers whereas Mr. Mortenson and his liberal friends have implemented the only real solution, the building of schools. Books not bombs, as it were.

Nicholas Kristof wrote recently in the New York Times:

Mr. Bush has focused on military force and provided more than $10 billion — an extraordinary sum in the foreign-aid world — to the highly unpopular government of President Pervez Musharraf. This approach has failed: the backlash has radicalized Pakistan’s tribal areas so that they now nurture terrorists in ways that they never did before 9/11.

Mr. Mortenson, a frumpy, genial man from Montana, takes a diametrically opposite approach, and he has spent less than one-ten-thousandth as much as the Bush administration. He builds schools in isolated parts of Pakistan and Afghanistan, working closely with Muslim clerics and even praying with them at times.

The only thing that Mr. Mortenson blows up are boulders that fall onto remote roads and block access to his schools.

But such a conclusion ignores the reality that the Bush administration has pumped billions of dollars into these same kinds of efforts. Secretary of State Condolezza Rice, writing in the current issue of Foreign Affairs:

So even as we worked with President Pervez Musharraf to fight terrorists and extremists, we invested more than $3 billion to strengthen Pakistani society - building schools and health clinics, providing emergency relief after the 2005 earthquake, and supporting political parties and the rule of law.

While I admire the work Greg Mortenson is doing, I only wish he could keep it above the political fray.

Secretary of State Condolezza Rice has produced a compelling essay for the current issue of Foreign Affairs which addresses the “new realities” which inform the Bush Administration’s foreign policy, specifically as it relates to the imposition of democracy in previously non-democratic states.

Under the title, Rethinking the National Interest: American Realism for a New World, Rice notes that the Bush Administration began in 2000 with a foreign policy disinclined to using American military force in nation building. Now, seven years later, she defends the Bush Administration’s nation building efforts as the only reasonable response to the 9/11 attacks. (I’m as weary of conservatives appealing to 9/11 to forward their agenda as I am of liberals appealing to the election of 2000 to forward theirs.)

Secretary Rice makes the case that only by establishing democratic states in volatile regions of the world can the United States hope to secure its interests, readily admitting such a policy is a historic departure from previous administrations.

“…it is vital to our national security that states be willing and able to meet the full range of their sovereign responsibilities, both beyond their borders and within them. This new reality has led us to some significant changes in our policy. We recognize that democratic state building is now an urgent component of our national interest. And in the broader Middle East, we recognize that freedom and democracy are the only ideas that can, over time, lead to just and lasting stability, especially in Afghanistan and Iraq.” [italics added]

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“The Bush administration’s approach to [the Middle East] has been its most vivid departure from prior policy. But our approach is, in reality, an extension of traditional tenets - incorporating human rights and promotion of democratic development into a policy meant to further our national interest.”

While I agree in principle that the establishment of democratic states is necessary for international stability, I wholeheartedly disagree that such democratic states should be created by the force of the United States military rather than by the will of the people in those regions. How is it possible to sustain a form of government which the people themselves do not desire nor understand? Rice deals with the “messiness” of implementing democracy in this way:

“For the United States, promoting democratic development must remain a top priority. Indeed, there is no realisitic  alternative that we can - or should - offer to influence the peaceful evolution of weak and poorly governed states. The real question is not whether to pursue this course but how.

“We first need to recognize that democratic development is always possible but never fast or easy…Nations of every culture, race, religion, and level of development have embraced democracy and adapted it to their circumstances and traditions…The fact is, few nations begin the democratic journey with a democratic culture. The vast majority create one over time - through the hard, daily struggle to make good laws, build democratic institutions, tolerate differences, resolve them peacefully, and share power justly.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Democracy , it is said, cannot be imposed, particularly by a foreign power. This is true, but beside the point.”

Beside the point?! With all due respect to Secreatry Rice, the Founders of American Democracy would argue that democracy could not be sustained without Christian virtue at its foundation. Such a necessity makes the implementation of democracy in Islamic states not merely “messy” but impossible without a fundamental change in their religious worldview. Toleration and peaceful resolution are foreign concepts in the Islamic world. To suggest that the implementation of democracy in Islamic states may be merely “messy” is naivete and disregards the religious worldview upon which the 9/11 terrorists depended for the justification of their actions.

The ideal of freedom in all of its various expressions (speech, religion, etc) has its source in Christian principles, principles not only foreign to the adherents of Islam, but even hostile.

Democracy germinates from a recognition of the unalienable rights granted by a Creator. America ought to be involved in helping people under non-democratic regimes recognize that their innate longings for freedom are the gifts of their Creator. But this has been accomplished most effectively by the spread of the Christian gospel through worldwide missionary activity, resulting in changed hearts giving way to the ideal of freedom as an innate right.   Recognizing their God-given rights, the people rise up to demand them, not a foreign power. A foreign power may assist them in securing these unalienable rights once the people of a particular state have recognized them and demanded them, but a foreign power cannot impose them on the people. The Secretary’s call for the implementation of democracy by force - especially in states with no disposition toward or foundation for democracy - ignores this vital aspect of democracy’s implementation and is therefore most troubling :

“Although the United State’s ability to influence strong states is limited, our ability to enhance the peaceful political and economic development of weak and poorly governed states can be considerable. We must be willing to use our power for this purpose - not only because it is necessary, but because it is right.”

Necessary for whom? Right for whom? When does it become apparant that America is preying on “weak and poorly governed states” to serve our own ends while doing so under the guise of “benevolence” and “national interests”?

I love America. I believe its democratic form of government is the last best hope for mankind. But as a Calvinist I am also fully aware of man’s propensity to serve his own self-interests rooted in his sin nature. Only the imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ can save a man from himself. And only men operating from the ideals of that radical change can be said to be truly benevolent in their intentions toward their enemies.

Over the last seven years I have been astounded to observe a “conservative” government in America expand the government and its powers “in the interests of national security.” I was shocked to read Secretary Rice’s praise of that expansion and her call for its continuation:

“Since 2001, the president has requested and Congress has approved a nearly 54 percent increase in funding for our institutions of diplomacy and development. And this year, the president and I asked Congress to create 1,100 new positions for the State Department and 300 new positions for the U.S. Agency for International Development. Those who follow must build on this foundation.”

The expansion of government bureaucracy as an answer to any problem is NOT a conservative ideal.

While much of her essay is informative and compelling as we seek to understand the realities that inform Bush’s foreign policy, the notion that we can implement democracy by force because our national interests demand it, and the call for a willful expansion of government bureaucracy to achieve that end, I find to be an affront to the historic conservative approach to foreign policy.

KNOXVILLE, Tenn. (AP) — A man says he was so consumed by the spirit of God that he fell and hit his head while worshipping.

Now he wants Lakewind Church to pay $2.5 million for medical bills, lost income, and pain and suffering.

Matt Lincoln says he is suing after the church’s insurance company denied his claim for medical bills.

The 57-year-old has had two surgeries since the June 2007 injury but still feels pain in his back and legs.

He says he was asking God to have “a real experience” while praying.

Lincoln says he has fallen from the force of the spirit before but has always been caught by someone.

Lawyers for the church say other congregants saw him on the floor laughing after his fall. They say he failed to look out for his own safety.

HT: Frank Lockwood: Bible Belt Blogger