When society ridicules sacred things, we leave our children open to being vandalized, in other words defenseless. People do not respect marital committments and make fun of any religious words, and it wreaks havoc on our souls.
The test of any civilization is what we do with our children
In prisons those who rape children are protected from the other prisoners. Even prisoners draw the line.
Children want to be valued and they want to know why they are valued. Removing the fences that are the boundaries for our children’s hearts and minds is at the cost of their soul. How pathetically wrong headed, how mushy our thinking has become. There are millions out there for whom thinking is a challenge, no wonder why throngs of peope are so easily led astray. We’ve gotten more open minded and more closed hearted.
Children need to live in a sense of safety. Being a victim is also a state of mind based on the reality that threatens. Evil is in the self absorbed human heart.
Some years ago I went to church service with a friend and sitting close to us was a woman with two small children. There was a constant disturbance from their direction, the mother was hostile in her handling of her two children. Her little boy fought back the tears through the whole sermon, while she gestured and threatened him to “shut up.”
During the service members stood to give thanks or ask for prayer. She stood and said she did not believe in religion and hated it with a passion. She ended up there that morning because of a promise she had made to a friend. She decided at the last moment to go and literally dragged her hurriedly dressed children to the car. All through traffic the boy wanted his mother’s attention, but she screamed at him to “be quiet.” He persisted in trying, so (angrily) she swung around and backhanded him, splitting his lip it bled some. She ignored his cries and drove on.
The sermon was about being tender to your children and how important it is to their lives. Just then she looked at her son’s feet and finally noticed he was wearing his sister’s shoes. In her hurry she had grabbed the wrong shoes, flung them at him in the backseat and ordered him to put them on. She began crying as she told her story and acknowledging her own life was a tangled mess. “What am I doing to my children?” she cried.
She vowed that day to stay and talk to the minister and to join the church. She stopped to wipe her son’s tears. How frighteningly candid.
What is it we live for? And does what we are reflecting back to them spell horror?