I think we all need now to operate under the assumption that we no longer have any civil rights.

Those are gone.

No First Amendment. No Second Amendment. No rights at all. The government will enforce this cancellation with deadly force.

And I, for one, will not let that stop me from repeating the facts about it, and exercising my rights as a citizen even if they no longer exist.

The events of the past week reinforce the truth that — at home or abroad — our government is no longer the good guy.

Our president cannot wait to incite another revolution, foreign or domestic, and he does not really care which or how violent or who dies — as long as he is the hero who can declare peace by deadly force.

If you say you are a Christian — a follower of Christ — and yet you have no compassion for the stranger, the visitor, the immigrant … how can you possibly read of His life and words and not be moved by His grace toward those even His people would have called “the least of these?”

Have you forgotten?

Have you never read them?

Have you only listened to the words of a man in a pulpit that you pay to not offend you so that you won’t fire him?

Does he tell you only what you want to hear? What is easy to hear?

Does he even talk about Jesus of Nazareth at all?

Or does he only talk about why you should fear others not like you? About your country and your flag and your borders and your rights and your safety?

Does he speak gloriously of war and conquering and winning but say nothing of those who have lost it all, are homeless and poor and hungry, or that they alone are to blame?

Does he speak about life choices you make anywhere but the voting booth? Of acceptance, grace, compassion, generosity, charity, forgiveness, love? Toward others? As Christ has shown to you? Blessing as you have been blessed?

Can you even be sure you are attending a church, if that is the case?

Or is it just a weekly political rally with a little churchiness thrown in to make self appear sacred and America feel angelic and warfare seem worthy and greed glitter like golden goodness?

Go back to the source, I beg you.

Read for yourself who your Savior truly is and what He saves you from as well as what He saves you for; what He wants to do through you as well as for you.

Because He is trying to save you from yourself, for the benefit to you and your character in this life as well as the next, and for the blessing of others.

Others like you.

Others not quite like you.

Others, wholly and completely different from you.

The mission field He brought to your neighborhood.

The souls He created in His own image.

The ones He lived and died for, and would live for again, through you.

Don’t let them down.

Don’t let Him down.

And don’t pretend you’re following Him if He leads you to them … and you turn your back on them and walk away.

I don’t know what to say anymore about the United States government’s headlong rush into fascist racist imperialism … tempting war, internal tumult, isolation from allies, plus likely economic and societal collapse.

We are led by lawless, compassionless, brainless, murderous bigots and perverts who daily gnaw away at the Constitution and democracy in the vain attempt to satisfy their limitless lust for wealth and power over others.

And I’m choosing some of the nicer words at my disposal.

That’s all I can write for now, or I will be right on the edge of breaking down for the third or fourth time today.

Today would have been the thirty-fifth wedding anniversary for Angi and me.

There has only ever been one woman who loved me so much that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.

And she did.

And she’s gone, these twelve-and-a-half years now.

Someone who still makes my life richer through treasured memories, two wonderful children and now three grandchildren, whom I love and embrace on her behalf as surely as for myself.

Over these dozen years without her, I’ve come to realize that the chances of lightning striking the same place in my heart now, with someone else, are vanishingly small … and that’s all right.

And that’s really all I’m able to say about that on December 27, 2025.

Does Christmas not feel quite right to you?

Then you have something in common — in varying degrees — with self-absorbed Ebenezer Scrooge, bankrupted George Bailey, worried Charlie Brown, skeptical little Susan Walker, the jealous Grinch, questioning Cindy Lou Who, the doubtful nameless hero boy of “Polar Express,” disillusioned Betty Haynes, divorced Scott Calvin and any number of other major characters in classic holiday films.

And that commonality leads me to believe that “not quite right Christmas” is an experience shared by more people than might be willing to admit it.

After all, Christmas is supposed to be the season of hope; the hope of the world, right?

Yet the world just goes on being the world, and people go right on being people.

Things change; not always for the better.

Losses happen.

Jesus comes, but then He goes again.

The light of hope can become clouded and even obscured by the darkness of disappointment and even despair.

I think I get that. I’ve been there plenty of times in my life, and not always at Christmas.

But I’m learning to look for the light; in others, in giving, in kindness, in faith. I’m figuring out how to turn outward from inside myself, where it can get pretty dark. To reflect the light. Even to be the fuel that the light burns.

I’m trying to see opportunity in life; even if it’s the shadowy opportunity to learn empathy from sharing in the suffering of others, and seeing their strength, and attempting to lend some of my own.

If there’s anything in common with all the holidays of the season, I think it’s that we need light; there must be light in these days of longer darkness for us northern hemisphere dwellers:

• Gratitude, for plentiful harvest and having enough.
• Generosity in sharing the excess.
• Grace toward others, because we all begin again — not just as each year ends — but as each outgrown season of life comes to a close.

Those things are what I see helping make the world a little more right when it doesn’t feel quite right.

At Christmas, or any other time.

I have not been to church for several years.

I went to church almost every time the doors were open from infancy on up. Until a few years ago.

I kinda stopped going during the pandemic and never really went back. Oh, I kept preaching online for my little home church here in Eureka Springs. And for a while after we decided to meet again.

Then I retired and stopped going.

I had no problems with anyone there. Sweet people, and I miss them.

But at some point, my longstanding questions about why we “do” church the way we “do” church had no satisfying answers.

I had been asking myself for years why we were there; why weren’t we out doing things together to help other people?

Feeding the hungry? Visiting the ill and injured? Housing the homeless? Helping the unemployed get jobs? Getting things fixed and painted for older people? Giving lost folks directions to the places they want to go? All kinds of things that just HELP?

Instead we sit for a lecture about what we should already have read and know. We sing and pray things that praise God who wants actions more than words, and supposedly encourage each other instead of asking what’s wrong or how-can-we-help or listening. We give to pay a staff to do some of these things for us instead of experiencing the joy of caring, and a building to do them in (and the utilities/maintenance for it). We have elders, deacons and boards to look after all that, often instead of each other, and then to deal with excluding people who weren’t included enough not to do something wrong that would embarrass the church. Does helping people go out really help them out?

Not once in scripture do I find a menu or even an example of the acts of worship we’ve all generally agreed upon in connection with a gathered church. Sometimes a visiting missionary would share a long mission report and some poor weary chap would fall asleep and out of a window, but I’m not sure that was supposed to be exemplary.

There were no examples of purchased buildings, on-site staff, performing choirs or bands or special effects or testimonies or much of anything else that was for us but not for Him.

I find in the teachings and life of Jesus of Nazareth many examples of people being fed, cared for, healed and taught by parable and thought-questions whether there was a crowd around or not.

Thing is, I think over the centuries, people came up with a formula for doing church themselves that often conveniently required the minimum development of character and involvement in the lives of others with the maximum expenditure of donated funds.

And while some may have greatly simplified and reduced the expenditure of that formula, it’s often the same old things being done in the same old ways. I’m not sure that’s for everyone. I’m not sure that it really helps anyone in their spiritual development to be more loving and caring outside that circle of fellowship — perhaps to the folks who feel the need for grace and inclusion the most.

In the end, it was not encouraging me. And I didn’t feel like I could go on trying to encourage people within it.

So I’ve outed myself as a believer in God now, but not particularly a believer in church as we “do” it. (That will save everyone else the trouble of outing me. 🙂)

I’m not exactly a cloistered monk though. Church is still all around me, because church is the kingdom of God in this world. I’m surrounded by His kids, whether they’ve known or accepted His paternity or not. I’m serving in my own way with my meager set of skills and resources; loving others no matter what, calling out dumb stuff that should be obvious, giving directions to sidewalkers who are befuddled by Eureka Springs maps, holding doors open, donating food cans when I can, smiling, giving out free compliments, always being available for hugs and a cup of coffee. There are civic groups willing to accept my help with bigger needs, so I try to support them. My cottage is a place of welcome.

I’m the church, 24/7, just like everyone else who wants to love and care and help when they can, whether individually or in a group. It’s just that our costs of doing business are lower.

And, perhaps, the reward of the joy of being part of it firsthand seems greater.

Walking by Eureka Springs’ Crescent Spring at noon on Wednesday is a contemplative experience for me.

On one side, you hear the gentle carillon up the hill at St. Elizabeth’s; her chimes singing to you some hymn of goodness and light and all that heaven enfolds and humanity should aspire to.

On the other side, you hear the tornado/air raid sirens on East Mountain, warning and testifying to you of all the worst, most destructive capabilities that the heavens and mankind can mete out.

They swell against each other, and of course the sirens have the advantage in volume in spite of their distance from you, and for three to five minutes they overcome — drowning out the chimes.

The sirens win.

But the carillon continues gently singing its angelus prayer-songs for another ten minutes, reassuring you that there is still divine love and mercy and grace, and your world goes on turning while you continue your walk.

The carillon endures.

I’m retired from preaching, but every once in a while I just feel a need to say something that I feel should be obvious … just in case it’s not.

Tomorrow is Easter, and Christendom will observe the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth.

Sermons will recount how it brings hope and verifies the promise of life after death and testifies to divine power and love.

I don’t mean to diminish any of that, nor any of the other encouraging insights those messages may bring.

But I feel that if we fail to grasp that the promise of abundant life is just as much for the here and now as it is for the hereafter, we’ve still missed the point — even if we gladly accept all the other points made.

We fit this planet and it fits us. We fit with each other. We have a place in life, and a purpose, and a way to enrich life’s meaning.

The Man who left the tomb taught and lived and fulfilled a life of perfect love and harmony with all around himself who were willing to share in that vision.

He created; told simple stories to reveal how to love.

He walked and met people where they lived and worked, and told them how much they are worth.

He fed them when they were starving for hope and sometimes even for food or health or life itself.

He felt we deserved a perfect example, even if we could never perfectly imitate it.

He proved it could be done.

And even the way His life was ended — willingly, obediently, self-sacrificially — was a way to make and keep peace in such a troubled time.

So of course His life couldn’t be ended by hatred, jealousy, fear, anger, paranoia and all the other evil factors that conspired to end it.

Love never ends.

That’s the Story.

That’s the essence of the Story
I would want to preach if I still preached; that I would want to quietly post on a noisy social media tool; that I would want to live until I die, when only the loving parts of me are remembered here and become part of the hereafter.

Love never ends.

The Story of Easter.

I’m posting more actively at my former portfolio site — and now author blog — http://wkeithbrenton.com.

For the most part, I’m talking about the novel series, The “People of the Water” Cycle, available on Amazon.com in paperback and Kindle format. The posts on my author blog feed into my Amazon author page via RSS.

The three novels, set mostly in Eureka Springs, Arkansas between 1886 and 2014, detail the adventures of a family and friends investigating the secrets of the “Waters of the Stars” and shouldering the burden of what they have learned.

The series is a swirl of history, mystery, solitude, romance, the normal, the paranormal, science, science fiction, fantasy, and suspense.

Feel free to follow the journey here!

Jesus, keep me near the cross
the one on the wall in my church
or in my study
but not the one planted in the ghetto
where crime is rampant
and poverty is the rule

Keep me near the cross
where the shiny people are
people like me
people my color
people who make about as much as I do
or maybe a little more

Jesus, keep me near the cross
the shiny gold one
superimposed on my country’s flag
that tells me you’re on our side
and that we’re never wrong

Keep me near your cross
where there aren’t any thieves
hanging about nearby
where there’s no guilt or shame
or suffering or pain
or anything that requires my attention
my sympathy
my empathy
my generosity
myself

Jesus, keep me near the cross
that’s just there once a week
and not every day
every hour
every minute
every second
that’s just too much to ask
from the One who gave it all