AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am a Christian. Being a Christian is my primary identity, my only identity, and one in which I base all of my worldviews. I realize that there will never, on this earth, be a perfect political system, party, or leader, and I'm ok with that. I anxiously await the day that Christ returns and reclaims His kingdom and restores all order to the world. Until then, I allow my faith to shape the way I view culture, politics, and my role in the world.

I was recently having lunch with a friend, a Christian, who was professing his frustrations with living in America as a believer. American Christians, he said, are too complacent, comfortable, and easily distracted from the Gospel in pursuit of their own self interests. While I can't disagree with what he had to say, I do disagree with the demonizing of America that has been so prevalent as of late.

There is no death. Death is but a myth, a feeble attempt to explain the inexplicable. For, what is "death"? "Death" marks the end of a body, a cessation of breath. But is the "end" really the end? The "end" does not mark life's final chapter. A life, or soul if you will, is so much more than the 30 seconds spent on earth. A life is eternal. Life does not need to body to exist. It will go on long after the body fails it. The question remains: where will your life go? Two paths present themselves: life apart from God or life with God. Life apart from God is marked by suffering, pain, torment, fear, isolation, agony. Forever. Life with God is marked by belonging, worship, embracing, joy, fearlessness. Forever. The choice is yours, but make it well, for when your body quits it is just the beginning.

Many Christians have great stories about how they came to believe in God and have a relationship with Him. For some, it started when they were at the lowest point in their lives, and through their despair they saw the light of God's salvation. For others, it involved studying about religion, and finding a relationship with God to be the most fulfilling promise of all religions.

I'll never forget the first time I saw her. She was huddled in the backseat of an old station wagon with one of her siblings, wood shavings all over the seats and floor. "Whadda ya think?? She's gorgeous, ain't she??" said the toothless wonder who welcomed her into the world. Bonita was her name. She raised German Shepherds on her farm in the middle of Podunk, Oregon. This lady was the epitome of redneck. She would shoot and kill deer on her property and feed it to the dogs. The farm was, without a doubt, every dog's dream.