And Now, A Post-Sabbatical Burst From The Starting Blocks. . .

It's been a month since I've posted, and that's the longest I've gone, I believe, between gusts of Prevailing Winds.

But my eldest son, who graduated in May from the University of Idaho, spent the last two months with us -- he lives in and did his student teaching in Snohomish County, Washington -- and having him back home, however briefly, was important enough to cut out most of the extraneous things in my life. He's likely to leave for a teaching job in South Korea later this year, and that made it doubly important to spend as much time as possible with him and with his younger brother, who moved out in March. I am unabashedly enamored of my sons, and if one wants to watch endless episodes of 30 Rock and the other wants to tell me about the most amazing of the 46 books he's read in the last week, there's nothing that's going to keep me from it, as the state of my house readily demonstrates.

We also had a very upsetting extended-family crisis at the end of June, and while I'm still grieving and shaken, I feel able to write again with more than just a full heart, particularly given that the last couple of weeks have left my heart overflowing and my mind more than a little preoccupied. It's not a situation that is likely to be resolved, and your prayers would be much appreciated, but Anthony left a few days ago and the other drama is now fully entrenched rather than teetering precariously. And so while there's been much to comment on -- as is the case when writing from Moscow, Idaho, the nation's center for Religious Bigotry And Bluster Elevated To A Suffocating Epistemological Lifestyle -- my schedule and plate have been full. Not even Doug Wilson can avert my attention from a visiting son, nor divert me from crisis when I'm in the midst of it.

But it's time to come back, and come back strong. I'll be commenting on his puckish disdain for the "It Gets Better" program, which exists solely to encourage gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered and questioning youth to not kill themselves -- to believe that they have lives worth living, no matter how sickening, and how very real, the bullying and abuse directed at them. Wilson loves wordplay, acronyms, and sandwiches. He's not too fond of people, though, or at least those whose journey toward accepting their sexual identities he views as nothing more than fodder for his juvenile sense of humor or, if it's not, say, a Thursday, his utter contempt for those Not Like Him.

I just finished journalist Lauren Sandler's account of Evangelical youth movements, "Righteous," and will discuss it alongside "Quiverfull," which I read and reviewed last year. "Righteous" chronicles the punks/nerds/skaters/soldiers/hipsters-for-God-and-GOP phenomenon throughout the Church, of which New St. Andrews and Wilson's pal Mark Driscoll are interesting examples, and "Quiverfull" is a journey into the Scripturally twisted world of "Biblical" patriarchy and the obscenely rigid gender roles and robust fecundity therein. Together, both books sum up virtually everything wrong with Christiandom today, and both are written by East Coast secular feminists who are enormously skilled journalists and in many cases quite a bit more kind in their interactions with their subjects than I would be. Sandler and "Quiverfull" author Kathryn Joyce expose an ugly presence in our churches, institutions, and culture that purports to glorify God but co-opts the Almighty for agendas neither moral nor Biblical. Paraphrasing what I wrote to Sandler, any Jesus follower who would proclaim that she or he would die for their Savior ought seriously to consider if in "living for him," they're killing the very message of his Gospel.

Margaret Mead once said that a small and committed group of people could change the world and, indeed, is the only thing that ever has. I hope she's right, because the enormous and enormously committed patriarchialists and the rapidly growing movement of religious-right hipsters, punks, and preppies for Jesus appear to be taking over the Church. If Mead is right, it's not the loudest or the most numerous who always prevail. It's narrow-gate time, and well past time to show to the wide-open door those who use the Word of God to bludgeon its very message as well as the precious ones to whom its message of reconciliation is addressed.

So, to paraphrase Katharine Hepburn, "fasten your seatbelts; it's gonna be a bumpy ride!" And yeah, I know it was Bette Davis -- just wanted to see if you all were on your toes . . .