We are starting to live in a time when the word prophetic should be reserved for anyone who sees and notes what is obviously going on.
My previous post on The Donald elicited various reactions. One kind of response, both in the comments here and on Facebook, complained about the fact that I had posted a tacky picture. And so let us talk about that for a few moments.
But I do want to begin by commending those men who have made a covenant with their eyes. I respect and honor that, and appreciate the fact that they have drawn a line that excludes looking with desire at a picture like that one. I appreciate the effort and honor the intent. And the Internet is a tough enough place to function without going to what you thought was that safe space known as Mablog only to be confronted by a chick on the piano. So I get that part, and I empathize.
Now speaking of safe spaces — if I may address a different but related problem for a moment — we need to step back a few paces and see what is actually happening to our coarsened culture. While a full-tilt crusade is ongoing to create “safe spaces” on college campuses, complete with therapeutic coloring books, the very same powers that be are also engaged in turning every public women’s restroom or locker room into an unsafe space — and a welcoming zone for creepers. Gnat, meet camel.
But believers have a tendency to do the same thing, only in reverse. The problem with porn, soft porn, and quasi-porn is not to be found in what a man sees, but rather in what he does NOT see. In this case, what is not being seen is the context.
One commenter summarized it well:
“Western civilization is perched on the edge, we’re surrounded on all sides, doom is impending.”
Followed immediately by:
“Yes, I know, but could somebody please get the scantily clad woman off the back of the piano?”
When you look at that picture, what do you see? You see a man who probably does not play the piano, sitting at a piano. You see his wife, aspiring to the honored position of First Lady of the United States, draped on the piano and with not very much draped on her. She has one of those black easy-off dresses that billionaires like. In the background you see an enchanting version of Versailles as envisioned by Lively Oak Mobile Home Manufacturing, Inc. You see a man whose taste, absolutely all of it, is located in his mouth.
What do you not see? Well, apparently a lot of people do not see that this man is being supported by a third of evangelicals. I know, I know, these are evangelicals as defined by Gallup, and not by the Book of Life, but we are still dealing with evangelicalism as a current political reality. And in that context Trump has been endorsed by men like Jerry Falwell, Jr. and Robert Jeffress. So what we ought to see is that this picture is not some random picture from the Internet to stumble guys, but rather the kind of picture that a third of all politically active evangelicals would like to see on future White House Christmas cards.
So I am not trying to get guys to see too much of Mrs. Trump. I am trying to get everybody to see a little bit more of what they are helping to make happen. Tomorrow is Super Tuesday, and tens of thousands of evangelicals are going to turn out in order to cast their votes for the Kamikaze Klown.
Of course, this is not to say that good cannot come out of this. The kamikaze does look like it might hit the USS Republican Establishment amidships, so there’s that.
To borrow a great phrase from Russell Moore, we are talking about a man whose attitude toward women resembles that of a Bronze Age warlord. We haven’t seen anything like that since . . . oh, since the spouse of the current Democratic front-runner, whose attitude toward women resembles that of Suleiman the Magnificent.
But in the meantime, policing our own ranks is inescapable. If you can’t keep evangelicals from trying to put a randy billionaire into the White House, then at least let us tut tut at those evangelicals who point out that this is what we are in fact doing. Somebody will be upset that I referred to Melania as a “chick on the piano,” but will not have a problem with her being the chick on the piano.
So here comes the unapologetic part. I know that nuisance lust is a difficulty for many Christian men, like one of those little biting insects they have in the South. For that reason, I offer the following invitation with an accompanying chigger warning. But if anyone is not stumbled by the photograph in question, I would invite them to participate in a meme contest. Take the photo above and make a meme out of it. Post the results here and I will announce a winner next Monday. The winner will receive $50 credit at Canon Press. Entries would have the picture and then, meme-style, inscribed on top of it something like, “A woman’s place is in the home, not on the piano.”
Whatever you say about cultural engagement, we will not be able to do a decent job of it if we continue to make our headquarters this blanket fort of ours.