Dunnevant’s Theory of Good Government

I’m going to go out on a limb here by reducing the entire history of civilization down to what I believe are its core foundational elements. I know, I know...sounds like a real yawner, right? I will do my best to be both brief, and interesting. Here’s my theory:

The two key elements required for a flourishing society, the two things upon which successful, cooperative civilizations are built are—

- The Rule of Law

- Personal Freedom

There are others, sure, but without these two, all is lost. To the extent that governments honor these two foundation principles, they enjoy relative peace and prosperity. To the extent they discard them, chaos and death soon follow. How so?

1. When the rule of law becomes arbitrary, circumstantial, or ignored altogether, and if the “rules” ignore popular will, you're in for trouble. The making of law must always be done with what the Founders referred to as the consent of the governed. Also, when the rule of law is applied to some but not others, you’re in for even more trouble. The human instinct for justice, granted I believe by our creator, is a powerful force and cannot long be trampled upon.

2. When personal freedom morphs into complete and total personal autonomy, disaster will inevitably follow. No one in a functioning society can be granted absolute freedom. I don’t have the freedom to burst through my neighbor’s front door with an ax and murderous intent because he plays his music too loud. All members of society are called upon to make shared sacrifices for the common good. We don’t construct our own roads, function as judge, jury and executioner of criminals. When we confuse the dignity of the individual with the supremacy of the individual, we become an ungovernable, self-interested mob.

So, there you have it. Dunnevant’s Theory of Good Government. If you think about it, all of the political arguments we engage in can be traced back to these foundational rocks. Where we differ is how best to organize these sometimes conflicting principles. How to balance personal freedom with the pursuit of the common good? How to make laws that best reflect the people’s will and how to administer those laws justly? 

Simple, right? No. Human history is largely the story of human beings trying mightily to find the perfect balance...and mostly failing. Peace and prosperity are the outliers of the human story. When any country stumbles on a formula that works, we marvel. America so stumbled in 1776. It was far from perfect, and we have been hammering out the details ever since, sometimes successfully, other times accompanied by violence. But we persist because the alternative is unacceptable. May we never stop hammering.

A Proud Dad Moment

Good Thursday morning, kids. I have some exciting developments concerning my physical condition, or more precisely put, the uninterrupted deterioration of said condition which I can only conclude comes from the fact that in less than 30 days I will turn 63 years old. 

Eleven days ago, Monday the 22nd of February, I woke up with a painful back. Two days later I regaled you with all the sordid details in a blog post with the unimaginative title, Bad Back. Two days ago the back felt great and yesterday it was 100%. Matter of fact, yesterday afternoon I was able to go for a four mile walk after work. So, about an hour ago I was stepping out of the shower.( I have an 8 o’clock Zoom call with a client so I had to get in the shower ahead of Pam). Anyway, I stepped out of the shower and reached up to grab my towel off the hanger on the back of the bathroom door like I’ve done, oh—I don’t know—7,000 times since we’ve lived in this house, and BAMM, that sickening twinge, the brief flutter of nausea, and a muttered profanity. Yes, I have thrown it out...again. As the kids like to say...I can’t even...

On a brighter note, I would like to brag on my kids for a minute. Kaitlin and Patrick are both in their early 30’s and I often tell them that they are both better people than Pam and I were at their age. It’s not just a clever line, it happens to be the truth. They are both extremely bright, hard working, compassionate people who no matter what else I might screw up in life I can always point to and say, “See those two? Pam and I did that.” But we are a generation apart and as a result disagree on many things. When it comes to politics, Kaitlin is to my ideological left while Patrick is to her left, farther from his father’s libertarian-tinged conservatism. But the helpful part of this dynamic is that they are both whip-smart and can offer me less emotional, more logical explanations of their views than I can find on the shouting matches of cable news shows or the spittle flying, fact-less tirades on social media. When I come across what I know is a complicated issue reduced to a meme snippet, I know that I can rely on Patrick to give me a fuller explanation, So I will often text him to ask a question or tease him about the latest crazy left wing fad I’ve stumbled across. We trade snark for a few minutes. We do this because while my kids may have different political views, the apple of their trash talking fell directly at the roots of Dad’s tree! Anyway, eventually we start having a substantial  discussion of whatever issue it is. Such was the case yesterday with the Dr. Seuss business.

So, what are the results of these discussions, you might ask? Does anyone’s mind get changed? The answer is mostly...no. But here’s what does happen. I always learn something. I like to think they do too. Sometimes they will say something that I had never thought about. Sometimes these discussions cause me to question my assumptions and yes, sometimes I find them lacking. Of course sometimes even after a logical explanation of their views I come away thinking, ‘Sorry, that’s still nuts!!” But after one of these long text exchanges I always come away intensely proud of them. Somehow, against all odds, Pam and I have raised kids who care about their neighbors, who have a heart for the least of these, and can sling pithy sarcasm back at their dad as well as he dishes it out. You just can’t ask for more than that!

Semi-Profound Thoughts

*Here are some semi-profound thoughts for all of you to ponder on this Wednesday:

Experience is the thing you have left when everything else is gone.

Two can live as cheaply as one, for half as long.

The cost of living hasn’t affected its popularity.

One nice thing about egotists: they don’t talk about other people.

...Annnd one lame joke:

Protons have mass? I didn’t even know they were Catholic.

*Thanks, Bob Pentland

A Fifteen Minute Break

So, yesterday was a typical Monday at the office. I was busy getting the week’s appointments organized, putting together reports for a half dozen annual reviews I have scheduled. There was also a problem brewing with some paperwork from last week which I was trying to straighten out. In other words, I was as busy as a one-arm paper hanger, when a got this text from my daughter:

Kaitlin: Do you have any animal related dad jokes? I’m asking for Bailey.

(Bailey is Kaitlin’s best friend in Columbia and a real sweetheart.)

Me: Of course. What kind of animals?

Kaitlin: Any kind. If she’s asking for Milo, I know that dinosaurs are involved.

(Milo is Bailey’s super cool little boy)

Me: I’ll see what I can do. 

Kaitlin: It’s for a friend who teaches science. Anything appropriate for Middle School.

Me: Are you kidding? That’s my specialty!! Wait, “uh excuse me Mr. Client, but there’s a kid in Columbia who needs some animal dad jokes. Can I call you back later?”

Kaitlin: Ha! Bailey says, “Tell Mr. Client this is PRIORITY ONE!”

Sometimes its the little things that happen throughout the day that refresh your mental health. I’ve heard them referred to as grace notes or serendipity. Whatever you want to call it, these little interruptions have the power to recharge the soul. They can be literally the pause that refreshes. I immediately dropped everything and went to work. Within ten minutes I had sent her this:

The rest of the exchange went like this...

I suppose that the lesson here is, sometimes the most important thing isn’t the most important thing. Sometimes a fifteen text conversation with your adult child can be a golden moment. Sometimes, a sidebar that involves middle school humor is just the thing to steady you for a return into the serious business of your adult life.

Thanks, Bailey and Kaitlin. I needed it.

WELCOME!!

I would like to be the first to congratulate the Month of March for arriving on time as advertised. Those of us who have been held in the vice grip of February could not be happier at your appearance. Although it is raining and gross outside, we are all confident that you will bring much better times to Central Virginia and beyond.

You have many things going for you:

- During your time with us Spring will officially arrive.

- Warmer temperatures will spread over our neighborhoods.

- St. Patrick’s Day.

- Spring training baseball.

- The Masters

- International Women’s Day. Ok, I didn’t even know this was a thing, but if it’s sunny and 70, I’m in.

- Yard work...when the yard finally gets dry enough to actually walk in...and all the preparations required for outdoor living.

March, we have always seen you as a sign of hope. By the end of February, we are all at the end of our ropes, fed up with cold, snow and ice. We have grown weary of leafless trees, colorless skies and dead things. We have become sick and tired of the inside of our homes. The prospect of another snow storm hovers over us like the angel of death. Even the possibility of a snow day no longer brings joy, only aggravation. Our spirits lag every time we see our deck furniture without their cushions. They look naked and afraid, like frail, emaciated prisoners of war, sitting out there alone and worthless. But now you have arrived, the army of liberation.

Yes, we are aware that on relatively rare occasions, snowstorms come during your reign. When they do, they are particularly fierce and devastating to our mental health, coming at a time which seems to all of us completely unfair and unjust. We beseech you to do all in your power to prevent such a catastrophe this year.

Once again, we thank you for your arrival and wish you all the best over these next 31 days. 

Warmly,

Your biggest fans

Sigh...

The view from Syria......

A Chilling Memory

A couple of weeks ago I remembered a story my Dad told me many years ago. I hadn’t thought about it in years. I suppose it came to my mind after reading the news about the posthumous fall from grace of Ravi Zacharias. Many of you will know who RZ was, but for those of you who don’t, he was a brilliant Christian apologist, speaker, debater and philosopher from India who played an enormous role in stabilizing my faith during a time of doubt many years ago. I first saw him when he was at Oxford debating some atheist about the existence of God. I was mesmerized by his eloquence and the intricate patterns of his arguments, using logic and rationality along with an erudite wit that disarmed the largely hostile crowd that packed the hall to hear him. So, all these years later to learn of his personal and moral failings was a blow. It is so strange to me how many times something that my dad had said to me comes flooding back during times of great agitation. The story I am about to relate isn’t complete. I don’t remember every detail. I will have to backfill in places, but the moral of the story I remember with crystal clear certainty...

Back in the early 1960’s, I was a little boy and my dad was a giant. He had moved the entire family from Richmond, Virginia to New Orleans, Louisiana so he could attend The New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary as a 39 year old freshman, the only student on campus with four kids and zero money. During that time Dad was given a church field, a little church in a one horse town called Nicholsville, Alabama. Every Friday night we would make the long drive from New Orleans to Nicholsville, passing through Laurel, Mississippi around the halfway point on Highway 59. I include this detail because it was on Highway 59 just outside of Laurel where our story comes to its shocking conclusion.

There was a young, charismatic preacher from Mississippi back in the early 60’s who was making quite a name for himself in Southern Baptist circles. His name eludes me and I’m not even sure Dad ever told me his name. It would have been like him to leave it out. Anyway, this man was the pastor of a thriving and rapidly growing church, but that church couldn’t contain this man’s ambition or his talent. He was invited to be the revival speaker at every big church in the south it seemed. He even got invited to speak at convocation at the Seminary, such were his gifts as an evangelist. Everywhere he preached, people responded. He was a captivating speaker and mixed with his dynamic personality, the sky seemed the limit.

Then, one day, at the peak of his popularity, it was discovered that he had been having an affair with a young woman who sang in the choir at his church. When the governing body of the church confronted him he refused to repent, claiming that his new love was the work of God. Just like that, his ministry was over. He divorced his wife and left the church to run off with his new girlfriend. Everyone in dad’s circle of friends in Seminary were stunned and disheartened by the news. How could he have done such a thing? It was not only a dark day for those who looked up to the man, but also for the cause of Christ and his Gospel.

But the story didn’t end there. Just a few months after his fall from grace, this man was traveling at night on Highway 59 with his new wife in the passenger seat. They were just outside of Laurel, headed towards Hattiesburg when the front left tire blew out. The man was able to guide the car to a stop just off the road. He got out, walked back to the trunk, lifted the spare out and began changing the tire. Suddenly a speeding 18 wheeler came roaring past. Just before the truck pulled along side the car, a giant piece of tread let loose from one of the wheels, flew through the air and in a blink of an eye, decapitated the dynamic, charismatic young ex-evangelist.

The news spread like wildfire on the campus of New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. Students began quoting the old prophets in hushed tones...There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it brings death. In Dad’s telling the lesson was simple...whatsoever a man sows, that shall he also reap. Dad believed that the calling into ministry was a sacred thing and that with it came a grave responsibility...your walk better match your talk or there would literally be hell to pay. I remember this part like yesterday, Dad turning to me after telling this ghastly tale, “Son...God will not be mocked.”

The good that Ravi Zacharias’ words and deeds did for me was incalculable. Without his intelligent voice during that time in my life, I might have totally abandoned my faith. But to learn of his double life and hypocrisy was crushing. Although he never had to answer for it in this life, I agree with my Dad. With a great calling comes a great responsibility. God will not be mocked.