What is the proper Christian response to evil conspiracies? Of late there's been a lot of talk about, for example, powerful groups that abuse children (Epstein's ring being a very obvious and verified example). And while conspiracy theories are often only half-true, there's no question that some of these principalities and powers are quite real and active.
So here's my question for thought: do you, as a Christian, mostly stay away from these things (Ephesians 5:8-17 logic) or do you feel a responsibility to study these things and raise awareness (more Luke 12:2-5)? Or a third option? I used to do these "What do you think" posts more, I need to get back to it a little bit even if no one replies.

I think I used to spend a little more time on researching evil, but I also realized that it could be escapist to avoid the problems in my own life/area. So I'm torn.

Sometimes we forget that The Good Samaritan is not necessarily a kind story. There's a sense that Jesus is not happy, that the lawyer is doing what lawyers do and annoying Jesus with yet one more question after the facts have been fairly told. I think if you asked folk for Jesus's most famous story or teaching, it may honestly be this one: more than the Parable of the Sower, more than the Beautitudes.

The story of course is odd because the Samaritan is the hero, and the Jews in the story went on their merry way without helping the man in need. The Samaritan is not the victim here. The victim is a normal, regular Jew who because he is in the wrong place at the wrong time has been badly beaten. His countrymen contort themselvcs to find ways to not see him as their neighbor: they don't owe him anything, and he will defile or endanger them.

And so they are trying to say that the neighbor, once revealed, is not their neighbor. He could be their neighbor (hard to tell with how beaten he is), but no, he is probably already dead, perhaps the thieves are about, perhaps he deserved it...and so the Jewish clergy pass by.

And I think Jesus is making another point about us all that needs to be considered, that he will always be bringing us neighbors that make us uncomfortable, that are inconvenient, that can be difficult to defend. And each time, we must reach into the box and say this is my neighbor, and I must stand beside him and rescue him. And a small irony of the Good Samaritan story is not just the Samaritan was the better man, but that the man who was rescued would normally not like the Samaritan, or be above him in social class. And yet the Samaritan still decided to say "Today, this is my neighbor."

We are in a time where the love of many will grow cold. No, not just because of politics: we spend more and more time alone, in our own comfortable circles. It becomes harder to love your neighbor when your life is structured to shut him out. Yet I hope we can still say, I see my neighbor today: he is alive, and he needs my help.

My church that I've been attending for 3 years randomly had a singles group event. I considered not going, but felt like I lose my right to complain if I don't go, haha. It wasn't bad! But it did get me thinking about how church singles groups seem mostly extinct since the 1990s.

And mind you, there are many good reasons why they died out. They could be awkward fits: 20 year old women and 50 year old men in one group. The groups could take on a social leper vibe, or there could be predators or misconduct going on. I think as time went on, there was a sense that single-specific groups also alienated singles from the rest of the church. And finally, it could feel like a group that no one felt excited about being a part of: a weird consolation prize. I had friends who would constantly make fun of the awkward folks at such gatherings. (We are not friends anymore, which is better for all of us. You'll be shocked to find out that friends who constantly talk badly about other people will do it to their friends as well. Shocker, right?).

But here's the real problem to me. Churches got out of the singles dance and singles group business because it was risky, didn't have much reward, and could be embarrassing. But what can take the place of such groups? Well, at best what happens is the young man or lady gets on e-Harmony, finds the (unvetted, unknown) love of their lives some 4-10 hours away, and moves out of the area for their new love. At worst? Well they simply leave Christianity to broaden their dating pool, or they end up taking wild chances at love since they don't have any normal way to meet hot, err, godly Christian singles in their area.

So if you've read this far, this sounds silly, or you may not have context for it. But here's a graph on how people meet their significant other: https://www.instagram.com/the.world.in.maps/reel/DA-mI14oxyZ/?hl=en the fact is, other institutions like school and groups like friend neworks have also had sharp declines. Online has eaten all its competition: we're all stuck on dating apps meeting unvetted strangers who come with Dark Triad personality quirks that are difficult to weed out until one is over-invested. And the worst part is, we didn't really put up a fight to the online takeover, did we? We just kind of...surrendered, because dating and romance really are awkward and messy.

I don't have a great ending here, just thinking about how online promises to reduce friction and do things in a less messy way, when in reality often the messiness is worse and just outsourced to, say, content moderators in the Philippines or some other shabby arrangement. I may do more in this series, still thinking it over.

I was reading some posts by someone who has had a hard time with their mental health for years. They apologized for what they termed "crazy posting" and I felt bad and left a nice comment. But I also quietly found myself asking God whether this person will get well: are they doomed to this ill health indefinitely?

Because I know Jesus said you will always have the poor among you. But I think that somewhere deep down we believe that all Christians will have a blessing some day. Certainly God may not heal everyone. But come on, can't he give Susan a few bucks? Can't he give Joe a few days of mental clarity, where he's not tormented by voices from his own head?

I think that instead, though, it may do our theology good to consider that some people are destined to always suffer in this life. That a theology of self-improvement and deliverance has value in theory, and that we hope for salvation, but that we also accept that some of us will have a permanent cross to bear, will be slaves in this life. And at minimum we understand it is not their fault, they are not cursed by God. But at maximum we agree to bond to them in the fellowship of suffering. We agree to not turn away, to hide our frustration, disgust, and sorrow in front of them as best we can. Are we not all the least of these in the cosmic spiritual sense? Are we not all waiting for death to become truly glorified, sanctified, and transformed?

As I heard Sunday's Palm Sunday, I had a good mental glimpse of how uncomfortable I would have felt at Palm Sunday. First, let's think about the feel of a noisy, unorganized crowd loudly shouting slogans. Personally, I never feel comfortable giving myself any particular mental health label. To do so, I feel like an interloper who has made off with someone else's hard-earned acronyms. However, let's just say that I get along quite well with lots of people on the autism spectrum. And a loud social setting with no opportunity to talk or hear oneself think? An absolute nightmare. I would be looking for the donkey lot ASAP to make my way home.

And not only that, but consider all the expressed emotions! The shouting, the crying, the citizens who seem half-delirious in their responses. All that palm branch waving, I could cut myself on a stray frond stroke! No, no, not intellectual at all, all this parading and shouting. Why aren't the crowds hushing themselves? Where is the Jesus Lecture? How can these fools not be allowing Jesus to deliver more insightful commentary? Waste of time, really.

And finally, that donkey and cloak thing--Jesus, I don't know how to say this, but isn't this too showy? Too glamorous? Oh I know it's not a big white horse, but these processions have meanings. This seems too...regal. Yes, that's it. Shouldn't we be more modest?

You get it: Palm Sunday challenges me on so many preconceived notions. My mistrust of the mob and of emotional response: my love of order and intellectualism: my bias for subtle, modest displays of virtue and worth, all of them trodden under the hooves of a donkey bearing a God to his prophesied death. And I have to ask myself, am I ready to let King Jesus and his followers come into my city, with all the mess and confusion and challenge? Can he get here by Easter? It won't be the same without him.