Today I read an article where the author suggests that we come up with another word for “marriage” because the one we’re using has been redefined by the courts and the liberals away from what is originally meant.
While we’re at it, let’s come up with another word for “coffee table” since we don’t use them for coffee, and frequently they become footrests. Or a new word for “money” because our government seems to talk about it like they have it, but they don’t. There’s always a whole bunch of new words for “automobile”, like “SUV” and “crossover” and “minivan”. These things just keep changing, so we need new words to replace the ones that have been hijacked, right?
Let’s use the word “resort” to mean jail. But jail still wouldn’t be pleasurable. Even if jail was in a 5-star resort, if you couldn’t leave, it would still be Hotel California, and it would be jail, not a resort. How about If we defined “jail” to mean a resort where you could leave, then when a judge sentenced me to jail, I’d be shouting “woo-hoo! Judge, can you make it a life sentence?”
Let’s make “soldier” or “sailor” mean anyone who puts on a uniform, and then Wal-Mart can sell the uniforms, along with all the rank, insignia, and ribbons. I would buy myself a white Navy mess dress uniform, with Admirals epaulettes, a cap with lots of nice gold designs on the visor, and a chest full of ribbons, maybe the Navy Cross—I’d get the Congressional Medal of Honor but I wouldn’t want to appear too vain. Since “sailor” means me because I wear the uniform, I would walk up the gangway of the USS Ronald Reagan and expect to be saluted and have my orders followed.
And “theologian” means anyone who has an opinion about God? I’d write a book, make my arguments about what the Bible, or the Quran, or the Vedas mean, and write in the author slug that I’m a noted theologian. People will buy the book and take my word as authoritative because I have an opinion and wrote a book about it. After all, I’m a theologian.
How about “gender”, and “sex”. They used to mean the same thing (as nouns at least). Now “gender” is something we “identify” like looking at some modern art and getting some revelation—aha! I’m a boy! Sex is just biology, which counts for very little other than what original equipment I had when born. So “boy” means “girl” and “girl” means “boy” or something called “genderqueer” or “androgyne” or “pangender”. I could call myself a girl, put on a dress, and expect to walk into a women’s public restroom, dressing room, or locker room.
That’s different, you say, because it’s a personal thing. You can’t tell me what gender I am because I identify myself. Oh, really? Get naked and I can tell you’re a man (okay don’t really do that, please). Get your tallywacker hacked off and then you’ll be a man without a penis. Get breasts implanted, have a fake vagina installed, and you’ll be a man without a penis, and with breast implants and a fake vagina. A simple blood test will show up “male” in the DNA.
Michael Jackson tried to physically become white. At the time of his death, he was whiter than most caucasians. But it didn’t change his racial makeup. We could redefine “race” as self-identified, then Michael could be white because he wanted to be. I’d become a black Korean Native American, and as such, get 500 friends to say they are black Korean Native Americans, and form a society for the advancement of black Korean Native Americans. We’d throw lavish parties, and increase our numbers by the millions, and then have a huge political base to elicit government benefits for oppressed black Korean Native Americans.
What about cancer? Let’s redefine cancer as anyone who says they have it. Then I could ask on Facebook for people to donate to my cancer treatment, check in to a hospital and lay in a bed while the donations roll in. Then when I decide I’m better, I can call myself a cancer survivor, and thank everyone for the donations I can now use to buy houses for myself and other self-identified cancer survivors.
That’s offensive? Why? My body is the most personal thing I have, and if I say there’s cancer in me, then by God it must be there. If I say it’s gone, then I’ve survived the cancer.
“Family” used to mean a biological, or marriage-joined group of individuals; you know, relatives, the ones you don’t get to choose and the spouse you do get to choose (if they choose you). The basic “family unit” was a husband, wife, and children, who were siblings. Sometimes a dog, cat, horse, or bird. “Extended family” included grandmas and grandpas, uncles, aunts, nephews, nieces, and cousins. Now “family” means pretty much whatever group of people who live together or decide to become a family. Sure, there are “work families” and “church families” but those have always been understood to be different than relatives. These days, two guys who met at a bar and found a younger guy can decide they are husband, husband, and child, and they become a family. They’re linked by nothing else but a desire to be called “family.”
They’re not a family.
Words have meanings. Meanings have consequences.
Words also have emotions attached to them. If I say I have cancer, people will feel compassion for me, they will pray for me, help me with money, they will go out of their way to be nice to me. Because cancer kills people, and nobody wishes someone to die that way (minus some pinheads who write hate mail like “I hope you get cancer and die”). If anyone can claim cancer, then the emotional attachment of that word is lost, which is offensive to those who are actually dying from it and wish to be cured.
What if I could just say I’m your brother, and come see you, and tell everyone we’re siblings. Because I say so. If you didn’t want me as your brother, that would not be a good thing for you, and it would be confusing for everyone else. What if you liked it and we told everyone we were siblings. Then I got kidney disease, and you insisted on giving me yours, and since we’re brothers, we are compatible, so the doctors would have to ignore the DNA test and install your kidney in me, and if I died from it, it’s their fault.
We all know that’s stupidity and my death would be my fault. Ignoring all the medical evidence is dumb. Then I could call you a bigot for criticizing my decision. If I decided to have unprotected gay sex with a man who had AIDS, I could say it’s my decision and because AIDS is not a disease spread among gay men (because that’s a homophobic myth), I’m not going to get AIDS. When you tell me how stupid and potentially lethal that decision is, you’re a bigot for daring to cite medical evidence to me about me self-identified personal decision.
For that matter, let’s define a “bigot” as anyone who doesn’t agree with my self-identified personal definitions of my gender, my family, my body, my decisions, and how society should see me. After all, if you disagree with these deeply personal things, you must hate me and want me to die from cancer.
Words have meanings. Meanings may change over time, but doing away with entire categories of word meanings and inventing new words to take their place is lunacy. And I define lunacy as doing things that harm society. Stupid, ignorant, dumb, moronic things. Those words have meaning too. Stripping words of their meanings and replacing them with other words unmoor the anchors of society in a way that has unpredictable results, but they are actually predictable in this outcome: introducing chaos into order does not produce more order. It produces chaos.
I am going to continue to fight for the meaning of the word marriage, as the union of one man and one woman, for life. Family is the fruit of that union, and the fruit of the prior unions that produced the man and the woman in marriage. Man is the biological male of the human species, and woman is the biological female. There are no other genders because there are no other varieties of humans in regards to biological sex.
This fight means I am against divorce. Divorce means the separation of a married couple, the end of a marriage which is for life. It’s a tragedy. When two become one flesh in marriage, divorce means the death of that new creation, that one flesh. It should be mourned. That death should be fought as if it’s to save either the man or the woman’s own life. The death of a marriage kills the hosts who joined into it, and recovery from that death takes a very long time, if it ever comes.
Sometimes, life support fails, and marriage dies. But “irreconcilable differences” is not a reason for that death. That’s murder. “We’re not the same anymore” is murder. It’s like saying my kitten grew up into a cat, and I don’t like cats, only kittens, so I drowned it. Or my cute baby grew up into a rebellious teen, so I killed her, we just didn’t get along anymore. No-fault divorce is poison to marriage, and therefore to family.
“Broken” families are the new normal. They’re not really broken, that’s a misnomer. They are murdered families who are looking for new life. I was in one of those families. My parents divorced when I was four, and when I was nine, my mother remarried. My step-father was caring and kind, and did a wonderful job raising me. But my family was dead. I had a dad with whom I spent weekends, and for almost 20 years I had very little relationship with him until I was in my late 30s. I waited until I was in my early 40s to marry, because I was so scared of divorce. My marriage is for life. My family is for life. My children will not know the murder of divorce, and with God’s grace, will grow up into adults who see a happy marriage and family without life-support.
I will fight for my marriage, and for my family. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it like I am fighting for my own life. This is the meaning of marriage and family, not some self-identified group deciding to call themselves family until they move on to the next set of people. That’s just using people, and it’s the most selfish motive possible.
I will fight for families, and to give new life to those families that died. This means understanding what a living family should be, and the damage that no-fault divorce does to families and children.
For this fight I’m sure I’ll be called a bigot, by the new definition, and I’m sure I’ll be cursed by those wishing I died of cancer. That’s offensive to real cancer sufferers, so go ahead and curse, it makes clear your real motives. There are thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions, who join in this fight. Most of them are silent, but they should remain silent no more.
If all of us who believe in the meanings of words, and the definitions of marriage and family would fight for our own marriage and our own families, and stand for those meanings with our lives, regardless of the attacks, we will win this war of definitions.
We will win because we stand for the natural order of the world in a society that is trying to bring chaos and disorder. The order of the world is written in our DNA, in our physical makeup, not by our own selfish thoughts and desires. I would rather selflessly stand for those facts and principles than to give in to an unending search for my own pleasure and fulfillment with things that never satisfy (who has met a satisfied hedonist? If a hedonist is satisfied, then they are not a hedonist anymore, by definition).
I suppose we could redefine hedonist as someone who has found their pleasure and stopped pursing it and is living in the reality of that pleasure with a certainty of it continuing eternally. I like that definition, so you hedonists can stop pursuing and count me as one of your numbers. I’ve found my pleasure in God, marriage and family, and by His grace, I will continue in that forever.
So if you want to wish me death, all you’re doing is threatening me with heaven. If all of us who feel this way simply stand up in the face of opposition, there is no way we can lose.
As Winston Churchill said,
Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in, except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force. Never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.
I, for one, will never give in. It’s a matter of life and death, not my death, but those who are perishing. From the movie, End of the Spear, this,
Young Steve Saint: If the Waodani attack, will you defend yourself? Will you use your guns?
Nate Saint: Son, we can’t shoot the Waodani. They’re not ready for heaven… we are.
For those who believe, let’s all stand, not only for our own sake, for our families’ sake, for our children’s sake, but for the sake of those who are not ready for heaven.