God is gloriously unconcerned about the conniving self-exaltation of man. Their strategies and plots pose no more threat to Him than a piece of tinsel does to a castle wall. His kingdom is forever. His Christ has been enthroned. His King has already been chosen and is seated even now upon the throne of heaven, reigning until that day when all His enemies are made His footstool (Psalm 110:1; 1 Corinthians 15:25).

And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonours you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.
(Gen. 12:2–3)

Being a conservative Christian in such a time as this, in such a place as this, amid such conditions as these, I am no stranger to the almost daily practice of hand-wringing. I know well the feeling of puttering along in my car and being accosted by “pride” flags on every corner—those damned symbols of civilizational rot and decay. I am familiar with the tragic habit of viewing schoolchildren with a cynical eye, depressed at the thought of what hellish doctrines are being massaged into their supple minds. I know what it is to see the form of a world you once loved appear to your eyes now like a dried-out cicada husk, emptied of all life and vigour and substance.

To live in this world is to live with the ever-present feeling of having been conquered—and not by an enemy you can see, touch, or strike, but an enemy who is at once everywhere and nowhere, who is impossible to touch and yet presses upon you from every side with the force of a boa constrictor. I have heard some compare this to the challenge of winning a fencing match against the morning mist, and I am inclined to agree. All efforts at hindering its advance seem futile in the end.

The effect that all of this has on the soul is quite…unhealthy. And that’s putting it rather mildly. A more honest stab at description would use words like jaded, bitter, despairing, hopeless, fed up, frustrated, angry, and cynical. Annoyed and crotchety could probably also be added, but we have to draw the line somewhere.

The point is this: anyone with a remotely functioning conscience has felt a sense of constant disappointment over the last decade, which, as Proverbs tells us, is the quickest path to a depressed and sickened heart: “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life” (Prov. 13:12). The sad reality in Canada today is that most conservatives are moping around with at least some form of heart-sickness, usually demonstrated by a sullen and depressed demeanour or else an embittered, sarcastic shell. In either case, the condition isn’t good.

Now, I should note that we are in good company when I say this. Jesus groaned at the unbelief of his twisted generation (Matt. 17:17) and righteous Lot was tormented in his soul each day by the lawless deeds of his peers (2 Pet. 2:8). So some measure of holy discontent is certainly warranted and even required for those of us engaged in the present struggle.

The needed qualification, however, is that holy discontent can’t be the only thing that distinguishes us. Constant sighing, fretting, and veering off into bitter tirades against the Libs can’t be the only thing we’re known for, however justified those things may be. As Peter says, Christians must always be ready to give a reason for the hope that is within them, not a reason for their disdain of progressives. Hope is the substance of the Christian life. It is the note that must ring out whenever the Christian is struck.

So what I want to do for the next few hundred words or so is remind you, Christian, of your reason to hope. And to do this, I am not going to prophesy to you smooth words about a possible Fall election or chest-thump about how Pierre Pollievre’s common sense campaign will triumph in the end. That would be like trying to start a fire with a glob of mud. What we really need right now is kindling, dry and brittle. You know, the kind that goes fwoof the moment a spark hits it. We need “hot gospel,” as Doug Wilson is fond of saying. And for that, we need to turn to the word of God.

Hot Gospel in Ancient Mesopotamia

“And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonours you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Gen. 12:2–3).

These words were first uttered to a man named Abram, a pagan at the time, some four thousand years ago, and they came on the heels of what could be described as humanity’s first foray into communism. This way of painting the picture is, of course, slightly provocative—but only slightly. Karl Marx had not yet been born, but the marxist spirit—a spirit of envy, pride, and humanistic zeal—was palpable in the air. This spirit was the one that animated murderous Cain when he built the first city, a project that was driven then, as now, by a desire to obtain through culture and craft “the benefits of God apart from God.”¹ It was the spirit that moved Nimrod to found the city of Babel and begin that infamous building project that would forever symbolize man’s rebellion and conceit. Here was hubris at its finest, a desire to “make a name for ourselves” rather than hallow the name of the only true God, our King and Creator.

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