The most striking thing about the Wichita Falls trip was my encounter with the highway patrolman. Hands down. Traffic stops just don’t happen that way. It’s possible that no similar traffic stop has ever happened in the history of highway patrol stops. At the very least, it instantly vaulted nearly to the top of my list of spiritually significant life experiences. I choose to believe the trooper was likewise impacted by the whole thing.
I didn’t do as well as I could have with that roadside exchange. When I told the trooper about the revival prophesied to advance from Dallas, he said, “Why Dallas?” I took that to mean, “Why would something so profoundly good come from a place so corrupt?” Something like that. I was projecting. I don’t really know what he meant. In that moment I detected what I believed to be his apparent skepticism, and I responded to him by saying, “Dallas is a cesspool.” But what I was really thinking was, “Dallas is a cesspool. And why not Dallas, anyway?” Why not any place on the planet? God can pick and choose as He wills for something like that. If God could work only with cities full of completely righteous people, He would never be able to do anything. Such cities do not exist.
Why did I not respond in a completely candid way? Despite the obvious spiritual charge to the encounter, I was still very aware that he was a highway patrolman who had pulled me over for speeding. As far as the State of Texas and I were concerned, he held all the cards in that meeting. Generally, I’ve spent much of my life afraid to tell people what I’m really thinking, if I believe my honest words will make someone angry. Thank God, that trait is diminishing all the time. But it’s still there in me to some extent. I have learned in life that there are other humans who have the same problem; in some Christian circles, they refer to that trait as ‘fear of man.’ That is, it’s a fear of a possible human response over, for example, a respect for how an alternate response might advance God’s Kingdom on earth. It’s the same fear that keeps me from being as outspoken and bold about Christ as I was a relentless proponent of LSD twenty-five years ago. And it was some measure of that fear that had me say one thing while thinking more, there by the side of the road in Wichita Falls.
I want to follow up with that man somehow. His first initial and last name are on the printed warning he gave me. That warning also shows information identifying the DPS region of Texas he works in. I suppose there’s a way to get at least a letter via USPS to a DPS office, with address instructions routing it to him.
“Dallas is a cesspool.” And just why is Dallas a cesspool, you judgmental bastard?
After spending many hours trying to quickly explain why I think Dallas is a cesspool, I have decided it is not an easy thing to do. I’m going to try something here:
GIVEN THAT cities concentrate and magnify a society’s ills;
and GIVEN that Western Civilization is striding purposefully off stage;
and GIVEN that her standard bearer the USA is collapsing into its own waste;
THEN cities in the USA will concentrate and magnify the rotting end of a civilization and nation. Dallas is one of those cities.
THEREFORE Cesspool! That wasn’t so hard. I could elaborate for days, but that’s not the point of this blogging endeavor.
*DISCLAIMER* I will say that I’ve been inordinately blessed in my life to have the constant association of close family, priceless friends, and quality coworkers that any number of people have not. And those family, friend, and coworker relationships have almost all been in the city of Dallas. My opinion that Dallas or any other city is a cesspool has little to do with my minute-to-minute interpersonal relations.
I will also confess that I have spent much of my life reflecting and facilitating the collapse of Western Civilization. I am not holding myself above it all. I just don’t like living in the mess that I’ve helped create. Thankfully, God is merciful and He’s giving me some interesting options to pursue in the last half of my life, despite the fact that I spent much of the first half with my fist in His face.
The following text was added on 8/23/14
I forgot to include one of the more important consequences of the Wichita Falls experience. After digesting the whole thing for a few weeks, I decided that a primary reason I was supposed to go on these trips was for the purpose of encouraging people. I knew that I was encouraged enormously by the chance to see the people in Wichita Falls. The highway trooper encounter was off-the-charts encouraging. I believe the patrolman was likewise encouraged. Same with my friends that I stayed with, I think. The point is that God has given me chance to give people a sense of hope that they might not otherwise have, depending on how bold I choose to be with the assignment. The perspective of being an encourager marinated in my spirit for about a month before I went to Portland.