O Lord, How Long?


It’s almost too much to bear. I want to do more; I want to do so much more but I do not even know where to start.

I hear about the evils of the horrific sex trafficking and wonder now how people can be so wicked. And yet, this practice (undoubtedly inspired by demons) rakes in untold billions of dollars every year as pedophilia becomes more and more accepted in our society, much in the same way homosexuality became increasingly accepted decades earlier.

A year or two ago I watched videos of Planned Parenthood executives boasting about the dismembering and selling of baby parts and thought, “Surely Congress will take action against this atrocity.” Instead, I watched as leaders of the Republican Party supported the continued funding of this vile organization with our tax money. A couple weeks ago, I saw Democratic Senators celebrate the defeat of a bill that would have at least stopped the wicked practice of abortion after twenty weeks. How can these things be?

I delayed posting this article because of the Florida school shooting.  My heart grieves for the families who lost loved ones and for the students who are scarred with memories of that day. Senseless and brutal killing fill our world in the horrors of abortion clinics, in the churches of Nigeria, Egypt, and Sutherland Texas, and with the nonstop killing propagated by terrorists throughout our world. And now, even in our schools.

So I write for the few that will read my ramblings, I pray for the Lord to intervene, I look to what Scripture says about the last days, and I wonder, “How long?” Is this not what the Lord said would happen before His return?

Perilous Times

I like the New King James Version reading of 2 Timothy 3:1, “But know this, that in the last days perilous times will come.” Then the Apostle Paul goes on to describe the people of the last days as “heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God” (2 Tim. 3:3-4, ESV).

For all the evils I listed above to become so prevalent in our world, these things must characterize many people, do they not? For those involved in the sex trade, do they not need to be “brutal” and “treacherous” to say nothing of the strong demonic influence over them? Absolutely! Do these traits not also describe the doctors at Planned Parenthood who spend their days torturing and murdering precious little bundles of life?

The problem of violence in our world is a heart and spiritual one. The rejection of Jesus and His words has opened the door for increased violence and demonic activity. It will only get worse as our society turns more and more away from the promises of our Savior and continues to see life as a product of godless evolution rather than as a gift from God to be valued and cherished.

What Is the End of All This?

When I look at the evils and violence in our world I feel much like Habakkuk when he voiced this complaint to the Lord regarding ancient Judah, “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not hear? Or cry to you ‘Violence’ and you will not save?”

The Lord’s response to the prophet was basically this; He saw what was happening in Judah during the time of the prophet and would respond appropriately to the all the wickedness and violence.

God later gave Habakkuk a vision that I believe also applies to the Lord’s still future outpouring of His wrath upon sinful humanity. The Lord said this about what He would show to the prophet, “For still the vision awaits it appointed time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay” (Hab. 2:3). In other words, God would have the last word on things then, He will have the last word on all the evils that is happening in our world today.

To me, at times the Lord seems rather slow to respond to the wickedness and violence in our world, but I know His day is surely coming.  In the meantime, the Lord is graciously giving time for believers to wake up and watch for His coming and for those outside the faith to repent and become heirs of eternal life.

Back in the 1970’s as I read God’s judgments in the book of Revelation, I wondered what would cause the Lord to be so angry with humanity as to pour out His wrath in such a great and terrible way. As I look at the world around me today, that question no longer enters my mind.

Instead, I ask the same question that the Psalmist asked, “O Lord, how long shall the wicked, how long shall the wicked exalt?” (Psalm 94:3).

It’s not that I desire for God’s judgments to fall or for people to suffer; I do not wish these things on anyone. What I desire is justice for those who cruelly and viciously murder the unborn and for those who engage in all aspects of the vile behavior associated with sex trafficking.

The Lord will have the last word on all these things; count on it!

Scripture tells me two things in this regard. First, God will respond to the wickedness and violence in this world. Someday, perhaps soon, the Lord will have the last word on all these things. Count on it! And when He does they will wish they had never been born.

Second, many prophetic signs indicate that the day when the Lord pours out His wrath on sinful humanity is rapidly approaching. However, this day is being held back only by the Lord’s patience to give as many people as possible more time to repent. Jesus said earth at the time of His return would be like the days of Noah (Matt. 24:37-39). That was another time when God saw that “the earth was filled with violence” (Gen. 6:11). Does this not also sound like today?

Just as He intervened in the days of Noah, He will do so again. Please do not be like the scoffers of 2 Peter 3:3-9. Recognize the reason for His delay and watch!

I am thankful for the Lord’s patience with me and with humanity, but still I ask, “O Lord, how long?’


Is It Too Late?

Ten Commandments Arkansas
Broken Ten Commandments Monument in Arkansas

When I first heard the expression, my immediate thought was “that’s it!” This fits perfectly with what I see.

I’m referring to Os Guinness’ description of current western culture as a “cut-flower civilization.” This, he says, is the direct result of the cutting off of its Judeo-Christian roots.  Guinness, an author and defender of the Christian faith, explains that while our culture still exudes some beauty from the past, it’s quickly fading away as a cut flower in a vase of water.

Putting this in my own words, I would say that cut flower people are those who believe they can continue the ideals of liberty and freedom without the roots that made them possible in the first place. They tear down of monuments containing the Ten Commandments seemingly unaware that many of these decrees form the basis for the very laws that protect their freedoms.

The Cutting Away of Our Foundations

Our freedoms, the sanctity of life, and all our laws are rooted in the belief of a Creator who gives life and establishes morals to protect and preserve life. A nation cannot exist without laws and the foundation for ours (as well as our freedoms and rights) is the Judeo-Christian worldview of our founders. Just like a flower cut from its roots, our culture has cut itself off from the very source that brought it the liberties and freedoms it now enjoys.

Just like a flower cut from its roots, our culture has cut itself off from the very source that brought it the liberties and freedoms it now enjoys.

The second paragraph of The Declaration of Independence begins with these words, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” Today’s prevailing belief that our rights come from the government runs contrary to that of our founding fathers who wisely saw that the tendency of the state is to restrict freedoms, not grant them.

Although some are threatened, our basic rights remain intact. Unless we return to seeing God as both the giver of life and our rights, however, our liberties will fade just as surely as a flower cut off from its life-giving roots. Our freedoms cannot survive indefinitely in the current environment. We see the unmistakable signs of this withering all around us.

The Withering of Our Culture

What are the signs of the withering? First, truth no longer matters. I struggle to know what to believe; fake news confronts me everywhere I look. People have no qualms about lying to prove their point; it’s all about the ends justifying the means, getting the desired results regardless of the path taken. Politics now consists of ridiculing one’s opponent; mocking has replaced debating issues. In many of our churches identity has replaced God’s Word as the starting point for discovering truth.

The second sign consists of the deplorable racism, hate, and resulting violence we see on our streets. Several weeks ago, we saw the vileness of several radical racist groups spill over into violence in Virginia. Both extremes use racism to recruit activists and stir up hatred. The words of 2 Timothy 3:1-7 have never been more relevant. Many today are indeed “slanderous, without self-control, brutal.” These things sadly characterize so many in our nation who use violence to silence and bully others.

The third sign is that of rejecting God as the creator of life. Jesus said that God “from the beginning made them male and female.” The wholesale repudiation of Jesus and His words was clearly seen a couple of weeks ago as the state of Minnesota decided to introduce transgenderism teaching into grade school classrooms telling young children that “your genitals don’t make you a boy or a girl.” I grieve for the irreversible damage this is causing to the youth of our country. The little petals are quickly falling to the ground, are they not?

The little petals are quickly falling to the ground, are they not?

Other indicators of the withering abound in our culture. Congress continues to fund an organization that performs one thousand abortions a day and then profits from selling body parts from these precious unborn babies.  Sex trafficking remains a huge problem in our nation while efforts by our President and some members of Congress to end it are stymied by many rich and powerful people who themselves are involved in this great evil that tragically harms so many of our children.

How much longer can our rights and freedoms persist in such an environment? Without a sense of the sanctity of human life, respect for individuality, or the cherishing of our freedoms and justice, all which flow from our Judeo-Christian roots, the government will at some point forcibly impose its solutions upon the resulting chaos. This will be the beginning of the end or perhaps the end itself of so much that we cherish.

Is It Too Late?

Is there any hope? Are we as a nation headed for disaster amidst the continuing strife, divisions, and resulting violence? Can we be reconnected to our roots or is our situation just as impossible as replanting a cut flower in the ground?

Millions of believers across our land continue to pray for our nation and its leaders. Nothing is impossible with God; He is sovereign and He can do all things. Jesus has already delayed His return to earth for a long time waiting for as many people to repent of their sins and find eternal life in Him (2 Pet. 3:9).

On the other hand, the storm clouds of the tribulation quickly approach. When this time of trouble arrives, the world will experience God’s response to its rejection of Jesus and His word. This seven-year period of history will be the worst all of all time as the Lord pours out His wrath upon the world because of its refusal to repent of its many sins (see Rev. 9:20-21).

So many biblical prophecies regarding the last days are coming to fulfillment before our eyes. The signs Jesus gave regarding the tribulation and His return are everywhere; it’s almost as if Jesus was reading from today’s popular websites as He addressed His disciples in Matthew 24. If the tribulation is ever so close, how much more so must the rapture be since it occurs before the tribulation?

Where are we? Is the flower about to fade away with no hope of restoration? I am not sure, but I do see a few things:

1) There is no hope for our nation apart from Jesus. The cutting away of our Judeo-Christian foundations was in essence a rejection of the words of our Lord and Savior. Only Jesus can deal with the hatred in the hearts of many in our nation. The violence we see on our streets will not end apart from people turning back to Him. Tearing down statues will not heal wounds or relieve hatred.

2) As followers of Christ, we must stay away from the anger around us as we point others to Jesus. Our hope does not rest in our culture turning itself around or in any political leader. While we cannot remain silent as strife overtakes our nation, we must remember God’s love in graciously forgiving all our sins as we call people to repent of theirs. One former pastor of mine put it this way, “we are just one beggar telling another where the bread is at.”

Don’t get caught up in the strife of this world and forget the overwhelming joy that awaits all of us whose trust is in Jesus.

3) Regardless of what happens next, we have no reason to fear. Whether Jesus comes for us today or next month or sometime in the more distant future, He is our hope regardless of what we might suffer in this life. We have an amazing and joyous eternity ahead for us that will be spectacular beyond our wildest imagination! Don’t get caught up in the strife of this world and forget the overwhelming joy that awaits all of us whose trust is in Jesus.

He is coming very soon to take us to His Father’s house.

Do you know Jesus as your Savior? If not, please call upon Him before it is too late to do so. He lovingly waits to forgive all your sins and give you an amazing hope that is truly out of this world and joyous beyond your imagination!


Leah’s Story


The following is an essay written by Jessica Kleeberger, the sixteen year old great niece of my wife, Ruth. This is my first post from a guest writer. Her story fits well with a passion of my heart and I did not think I could express it any better than what she wrote.

Kim twisted in her seat to get a good view of the clock, tapping her fingers impatiently against the back of the hard plastic seat. Five minutes passed. Her eye fell on a magazine resting on a side table, and she began to flip through it indifferently. Here was a recipe for the ultimate brownie, there an article extolling the wonders of organic farming, next a promotion for a book with a rather nondescript cover…Ten minutes passed.

Kim, having little patience for the delay and even less for the typical waiting room publication, gave up looking at the magazine and reached for another at random in the stack. She suppressed a groan as she looked at the cover of a slender mother, dressed stylishly in a crocheted shawl and hugging a grinning child. Parenting. Just the thing she hadn’t expected, or wanted, when she had gone out for a celebratory date with Dylan. If only she had not joyfully flung all caution to the wind as she threw herself into his arms. Now parenting was just the thing she could be facing, if the pregnancy tests she had done at home had been correct. Fifteen minutes passed.

Finally, a woman with a white coat and bouncy step emerged from the hall, a clipboard and a sheath of papers cradled on her arm. “Kimberly Wilson?” she asked, pausing in front of her chair. “I have the results of your test.”

Yes, the results said she would be a mother, but she was not a slave to mere ink, contorted into the shapes of letters on a piece of paper. She had options, the nurse said- This was her body, her choice.

Kim thought of all the anti-abortion flyers she had read. They had said that the baby had a unique DNA pattern, the only one of its kind in the world. That life began at conception. She pushed the thoughts out of her head. The nurse was right: This was no one’s choice but hers.

“Take a few days to think about it if you like, dear,” the nurse said, patting her on the arm.


A few nights later, Kim was awakened by a rustle. She pried open her eye lids, heavy with slumber, and glanced around the darkened room. It was empty. The sound she had heard must have just been the house’s foundation creaking in the wind- she always had been a light sleeper, awakened by the least of nightly noises. She snuggled back down under her blankets, already drifting back to sleep. Her eyes popped open again when she felt something touch her shoulder, and, thinking she must be getting paranoid, she rolled her head over on the pillow to see what it-

“Aaargh!” she shrieked, rocketing up onto her knees and yanking her blankets around her. Only a wild, desperate grasp at her bed post saved her from falling backward off the bed. In front of her stood a shadowy figure, too small to be an adult but seeming almost too still to be a living child.

Kim lunged for the lamp on her nightstand. Her fingers missed the knob, brushing against the lamp, and she barely managed to catch it as it teetered on the edge of the stand. Taking a deep breath and willing her shaking fingers to cooperate, she steadied the lamp and turned it on. The child hadn’t flinched and was staring at her complacently, unstartled by Kim’s panicked flurry. It was probably just an illusion caused by glow of the lamp, but it looked as if the little girl’s eyes, glinting and shimmering like the reflection of starlight on a lake, were silver.

“You frightened me. How did you get in? Where are your parents?” Kim paused for breath, then blurted out, “And who are you?”

“A voice for those who do not have one. Or my little angel. That’s what my Father calls me.”

“A- voice?” Kim murmured, not believing her ears.

She smiled, but it was, Kim thought, a smile far too sad for such a small child. “My mom called me Leah, though. You can call me that.”

Then, although Kim’s stomach was still too slender to bely her pregnancy, Leah tiptoed up and kissed it. The touch of her lips, which felt like the feathery, light brush of angel wings, was swift and gentle, too innocent and reverent for Kim to be offended by it or repulse the gesture. “Hello, little guy,” Leah whispered.

Kim gaped at Leah. “How did you know I was pregnant? And how do you know it’s a boy?”

She shrugged. “He tells me.”

“Who’s He?”

“He is my heavenly Father, and he sent me to show you something.”

“Show me something? In the middle of the night?”

“Why not? Here.”

Before Kim could respond, the child was clasping her hand in a warm, gentle grip. The room with its familiar furniture, cluttered with keepsakes and trinkets, faded in front of Kim’s eyes and vanished.

“What’s happening? Leah, what have you done?” Kim cried, leaping to her feet and trying to yank her hand out of the child’s. Leah didn’t let go. “Shhh, just wait. It will be okay,” she murmured. “Look.”

Something about her quiet confidence made Kim obey, and she was startled to see herself reclining in a hospital bed, cradling a baby. She could see him perfectly- the blonde down on his tiny skull, the squinted eyes that opened to reveal pale blue slits, the tiny fingers curled into fists.

“Joseph,” Leah said softly at her side. Kim, eyes riveted on the scene, tore them away long enough to glance at the little girl. “Joseph?”

“Joseph. Your little boy,” Leah explained, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “I can show you more.” She raised her hand and flicked her small fingers against each other, but she lacked the coordination to produce a crisp snap. Nothing happened. When her second attempt did not produce any better results, Leah let out a small, annoyed huff and moved Kim’s hand to her shoulder.

“Here, hold on to me.” She clapped her hands, and Kim found herself looking at a sandy haired toddler. Joseph again, Kim supposed.

His arms were crossed, and his lips turned up in a pout. She saw herself again, an expression of frustration and sadness evident on her own face. The baby had been cute, Kim reasoned, but it seemed parenting still cost more grief than it was worth. Then, Joseph’s face changed. She saw the childish anger fade from his eyes, and his lips trembled. “I sorry for being naughty, Mommy!” He flew into his mother’s arms, and she snuggled him close. “I forgive you.”

Watching, Kim could almost feel the warmth of the hug. Just as she was almost wishing she could experience the small arms wrapped around her waist and marvel at how much love the small limbs could give, Leah’s clap yanked her out of the scene and into another.

There was a boy leaning against a school wall, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small white bottle. He unscrewed the lid and raised a handful of pills to his mouth…

“Hey, Steve! Wait!” A voice called. A boy ran up to the wall, bending over and placing his hands on his knees while he panted for breath. The clear blue eyes, filled with concern, revealed what Kim had instinctively felt- This was an older Joseph. Joseph took a deep breath and flicked an unruly shock of hair- now darkening into a pale brown- off his forehead. “Steve, you don’t have to take those.”

“I can’t do it anymore, Joe,” the other boy replied shakily, and Kim thought she could see traces of tears in his eyes. “Nobody cares.”

“I do, Steve. You’re my friend, and I don’t want to lose you,” Joseph said softly, moving to place a hand on his shoulder. “I want to help, and I’m not going to leave you alone until you feel better. Come on, and we can talk to Mr. Benson. He can help. I’ll come with you.”

“I don’t know if this will work, man, but… thanks.”


What she felt was not a small amount of surprise, and to her amazement, there was also a thrill of motherly pride- pride in this boy whose compassion had saved a life and surprise that the small group of delicate cells growing inside her could do something so important. How might the world be different, she wondered, if all those fetuses had had their chance to save a life, to write a book, to give a speech, to love and give? Kim, wrapped up in the drama in the scene, almost didn’t notice Leah’s smile and whisper: “That was a good one, but I like this one, too.” She clapped.

Joseph’s hair was completely brown now- at least, what little of it Kim could see peeking out from under his graduation cap. His eyes, dancing with joy and tempered with solemnity, looked up and met Kim’s eyes for a moment. Not the eyes of the well-dressed Kim who stood in front of her son to accept roses and a hug from him- No, that woman was different.

She had changed from the Kim who sat in the doctor’s office contemplating whether not to abort a fetus. Yes, she had learned frustration, weariness, and self-sacrifice as only a mother could, but she had also known love, pride, and joy as only a parent could. Her son had changed her. And Kim wanted the change her hypothetical future counterpart had found- she coveted it. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“My son,” she whispered, then a sob escaped her lips. “I want my son. I want to give him a chance- And I need him to give me one.”

Leah squeezed her hand, and whispered, “You still have a chance.” She stared up at Kim, looking sympathetic and far more knowing about matters of life and death than Kim thought any child anywhere should look. Leah clapped her hands.

Kim bolted upright in her bed, breathing hard. She looked around for Leah, but there was no sign of a little girl- just the shadows cast by her curtains, the keepsakes from last summer’s trip to Washington, and the nest of blankets she was tangled in. And- inside of her- the most important thing of all: her son. It had all been a dream, but her choice was made.

She rubbed her stomach, feeling a closer connection to the tiny being inside her than she ever had before. Her choice would mean changing diapers and signing report cards, bandaging scraped knees and washing laundry as dirty as only a little boy can make it. It would not be easy, but it would be worth it. The little one inside her was potential. He was sleepless nights and tears. He was love. He was a human life. He was Joseph.

“I choose you, Joseph,” Kim whispered. “My son. I choose life!”


He was just as she had seen him in her dream- the blonde down on his tiny skull, the squinted eyes that opened to reveal pale blue slits, the tiny fingers curled into fists.

There was a knock on her door, and a woman poked her head inside the hospital room. “Hello, I’m Victoria. I volunteer here in the maternity ward, making hats for the babies. Can I give you one?” She held up a tiny, knitted blue hat.

“That’s so nice of you,” Kim smiled. “I would love one. Please, come in.”

Victoria tiptoed into the room, unwilling to disturb the baby.  “Oh, he’s precious,” she whispered.

Kim glanced up and was surprised to see tears in the woman’s eyes. Victoria looked up from Joseph’s face and met her eye. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said faintly, and offered a sad smile that Kim found strangely familiar but couldn’t place. “Your baby is just so beautiful, and this is my first day volunteering here.”

Her voice trembled, and she fumbled in her pocket for a tissue to dab her eyes. “I chose an abortion a few years ago, and I’ve regretted it ever since. That’s why I decided to start coming here to visit new moms- it’s my way of saying I’m sorry to my little girl, if she can see it looking down from heaven.”

At Kim’s confused look, she smiled through her tears. “No, scientifically I don’t know her gender, but I’ve always been sure in my heart that it was a little girl. Each year, I think of her and how old she would have been, what milestones she would have passed…”

Victoria’s voice trailed off, and Kim realized the woman had grey eyes, almost silver, which combined with her tears faintly resembled starlight reflected on a lake. When she smiled again, Kim recognized it.

“My baby would have been seven years old this summer,” Victoria murmured. “I call her Leah.”

Written by Jessica Kleeberger as “A pro-life persuasive Story.”