This sounds cool. But wait.
400 diapers will last a family with a newborn approximately five weeks.
The program will cost the state approx. $12.4 million this year alone.
That money will be funneled through a company called Baby2Baby, which will then provide their branded diapers to 400 participating in hospitals (California has over 500 hospitals in total.)
Meaning that instead of lowering taxes and letting families keep their own money to buy essentials like diapers, California takes their money, pumps it through a “nonprofit” that has overhead and whose CEO made $240,000 in 2024, to provide a “free” service available only in certain locations, and that you could have bought yourself for much cheaper.
Like everyone else, I looked at the shooting of Renee Nicole Good. From several angles. And frame by frame. I watched the reverse lights go out. The weapon leave its holster.
I looked at the before footage. The aftermath. I listened carefully to the audio. I heard the legal scholars commentary. The politicians. Etc.
But most of all, I watched it as a pair of amped up Federal Agents with a car and driver defying my orders in a tense situation. And then I watched it as a freaked out American female in fight-or-flight model with a terrifying man trying to force open my driver side door who may have barely noticed the other man in front of my car about to end my life.
——-
My thoughts.
This was always going to happen. A bunch of political people we don’t know playing out a drama of Sanctuary Cities, voting strategies, refugee designations, border enforcement, immigration scams, etc.
Sooner or later, given enough time, a loving widower and single dad will also pick up a gun and find a 2A solution to his grief over the Surgeon who “transitioned” his only brainwashed child while he was working two jobs in a murder suicide.
Someone wearing a Candace t-shirt calling for America-First will shoot up a Pro-Israel rally in Florida chanting about “Noticing”, Nick Fuentes and wanting their country back. Or a person will spray-paint “Never Again” on a Cybertruck and drive it into a Michigan crowd screaming “From The River To The Sea!”
Etc.
We are being set, like wind up toys, to tear each other apart and ourselves apart. my own head has been filled with so many slogans and so much hate for you by so many different people no matter who you are.
We are all in this low grade revolution.
And it will be reset today by algorithms you didn’t program, filled by speeches you didn’t write, amplified by accounts you don’t know are bot farms, directed by political strategists whose names you do not know, undoing action you would never have taken in ways you would never agree to directed by famous people you don’t know personally.
Val Kilmer was difficult to work with?” question that was asked on a convention panel, Michael Biehn replied, "I don't know."
Then, after a brief pause, he added.
"I never met Val Kilmer while filming Tombstone.
I only met Doc Holliday."
The Cross Still Offends
The bullet tore the air in half.
A folding chair rattled. A Bible dropped. A young man slumped sideways beneath a white event tent, eyes wide with the weight of eternity.
It was supposed to be a conversation. A “prove me wrong” segment. But this time, rebuttal came not with words, but with a rifle.
Charlie Kirk didn’t get to finish his sentence.
I got the news just before prayer meeting. I contemplated this death as I prepared to lead the saints in prayer. But I didn’t feel like praying. Not tonight. My hands were still. My mouth was ready. But my soul was pacing. Angry. Grieving. Tempted.
Tempted to grow quiet.
Tempted to sit this one out.
Tempted to wonder if any of this, faith, boldness, public gospel witness, is still worth it.
Because hatred in this country isn’t simmering anymore. It is boiling.
Europe is trembling. Israel is burning. Rockets lit the sky over Gaza again. And now, here on American soil, the blood of a Christian apologist paints the pavement of a university quad.
What do you do with that?
What do you say when courage gets gunned down in daylight?
Charlie Kirk was no perfect man. None of us are.
But he had backbone where most of us don’t anymore. He was a believer. Unashamed. Unafraid. He understood that real conversations only happen when truth is welcome at the table. And the truth he carried most was Christ.
He brought the gospel into public space on purpose. Because the gospel isn’t supposed to stay in church basements and private Bible studies. It is meant to confront. It is supposed to offend. It was not made for safety.
The Word became flesh and they nailed Him to a tree.
So of course they came for Charlie.
Of course they reached for a gun.
This is what evil does when it runs out of arguments. It doesn’t reason. It kills.
That’s the part that catches in my throat. Not just the sadness, but the strategy of hell behind it.
The Enemy wants us afraid.
He wants us to see what happened to Charlie and backpedal.
He wants the rest of us to whisper, to soften the message, to believe the lie that faith should stay private.
But Christ never whispered.
He preached in temples, on hillsides, in courtrooms, at dinner tables.
And when they told Him to be quiet, He picked up His cross.
Not a symbolic one.
A real one.
Heavy. Bloody. Splintered.
When Jesus said, “Follow Me,” He didn’t hand out maps. He handed out crosses.
That’s what I remembered tonight.
I sat in our prayer space, surrounded by saints who had brought prayer lists and worn Bibles. And I realized I didn’t want to lead them in mourning. I didn’t want to lead them in mourning. I wanted to lead them into battle. Not with banners or fists, but with open Bibles and tear-stained prayers.
The kind of war that kneels in gravel beside the wounded, hands them living water, and refuses to leave. The kind that speaks both mercy and judgment without flinching. The kind Charlie died for.
This world is not a friend to grace. But grace isn’t fragile.
“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?”
Paul didn’t leave that question unanswered.
“Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?”
—Romans 8:35
He piles up every fear you and I carry and then sets them on fire.
“No. In all these things we are more than conquerors.”
That means bullets don’t win. Slander doesn’t win. Prison bars don’t win. Death doesn’t win.
You can lose everything in this world and still walk into glory with your head lifted high. Because the love of God in Christ Jesus isn’t suspended by headlines or gunfire.
There are two worlds unfolding right now.
The one you see.
And the one you don’t.
One is filled with chaos. The other is filled with crowns.
I believe that when Charlie Kirk’s body slumped to the concrete, his soul stood upright in heaven. Not limping. Not silenced. Not stunned. But crowned.
He didn’t fall.
He crossed.
The great cloud of witnesses gained another voice.
And I wonder if Stephen met him there.
The first martyr.
The man who got stoned for preaching what the crowd didn’t want to hear.
The man who, in his final breath, saw the heavens open.
The only time in all of Scripture we see Jesus standing at the right hand of God, rising to receive one of His own.
I like to believe He stood again.
Are you afraid?
Do you feel the tremble in your spirit?
Do you wonder if it’s still worth it to speak boldly, to carry your Bible, to preach the gospel in a world that doesn’t just disagree but wants you gone?
You’re not alone.
You’re not weak for feeling that.
But you are called to something stronger than silence.
Don’t let fear become your theology.
The cost is high. But the reward?
The reward is Christ. And He’s not a concept. He’s a King.
Heaven is not empty.
It is filled with scarred saints who refused to bow to fear.
Men who were stoned.
Women who were burned.
Children who sang while the flames climbed.
And every last one of them arrived.
There is no difficulty that can cancel the promise of God.
There is no persecution that can derail your destination.
There is no sniper’s bullet that can separate a soul from Christ.
Your life is not measured by how long you live on earth, but by how much of it was spent pointing to heaven.
Paul said, “I have fought the good fight… I have kept the faith.”
Then he looked toward the reward.
Not a monument. Not a mention in history books.
But a crown.
Handed to him by the One with nail marks still in His hands.
So let me say this clearly.
We do not mourn like the world mourns.
We do not write eulogies dripping with sentiment.
We sing songs of resurrection.
We carry the banner of a Kingdom that does not tremble.
Charlie Kirk did not die for nothing.
He died carrying the same message you and I must now carry forward.
The cross stands tall.
The tomb is still empty.
And the gospel has not lost one ounce of power.
So pick up your cross.
Wipe your eyes.
And keep going.
The crown is worth it.
The King is coming.
And there’s still time to speak.
Even if they shoot.
Lord, give us courage.
And if not safety, give us joy.
For we carry not just the message, but the marks.
And You are worth every bruise.
@heyletsmakestuf It's a struggle! Simon's 15 1/2 and our best tactic right now is monitoring what he's seeing as best we can and having open communication about all the things even if he hasn't mentioned it yet. And restating our values and beliefs and how they are interwoven in all that we do.
@heyletsmakestuf FB memories reminded me of Evie's 6th birthday at the McD's playplace. I told the moms we would be there at a certain time and I would buy ice cream cones. Kids played for a couple hours and moms visited. No mess. No fuss. 🙌
@pulte Yes, please! 1st one to go to college in my family. Worked full-time all through college, parents could not afford to contribute. Graduated 18 years ago and still paying. $4k left, anything helps!
@heyletsmakestuf I was raised in the complete opposite of PC and there's still so much inherent shame in so much of daily life as a woman. Definitely a cycle I'm trying to break for my sons and daughter.