Don't Tread On Me
(Background) My favorite posts are those that make me laugh out loud as I write them, and again as I read them. This post won’t be funny, but I will enjoy it nonetheless. I hope you do too.
I choose this moment in time to take a stand. To you who feel compelled to tell others how they should live their life, I say: DON’T TREAD ON ME!
(Many of my loyal readers should now be standing atop their soapboxes shouting, “You’ve been telling people for two years that Jesus Christ is the only way to heaven! Hypocrite!” I promise I’ll address this briefly, but later, OK?)
Let’s get a few vices out of the closet right off the bat.
- I ride a Harley Softail Deuce, and it is one sweet ride. There is nothing in the world like cruising along in 4th gear at about 40 miles per hour, then romping on the throttle. To me, the throaty growl is the sweetest sound on earth. My bike is not obnoxiously loud, but it sounds awesome and the sound is distinctively Harley. I’ve been riding a motorcycle for about 5 years, and I never thought I’d be riding a Harley. But it happened, even to me. I’m not turning into a tattooed freak, but I’m diggin’ the Deuce. Every once in a long while I don’t wear a helmet, and to be honest I much prefer it that way. The wind in your hair, hearing the chirps and tweets around you…good stuff. But it’s too easy to think about bouncing my melon off the asphalt, so I throw it back on before the next ride. I ride a Harley, sometimes sans helmet. Don’t tread on me.
- I smoke a cigar occasionally. OK, so it’s really occasionally–about two or three times per year. But by golly, you light up a $10 Romeo & Julieta or an $8 aromatic Acid (particularly when sitting on a rooftop overlooking the city valley in Quito, Ecuador), and you’re sucking deeply upon the marrow of life. I fully agree with you that cigarette smoking is nasty, disgusting, health-wrecking, and an infringement upon all the health nuts around you. I only smoke a stogie in the company of a few friends on my porch, as well as the one time in Ecuador. Don’t tread on me.
- I love the White Sox, and I hate the Cubs–quit freakin’ telling me I should like both. I don’t like the Cubs, I don’t want to like the Cubs, and I don’t have to like the Cubs. As it happens, I’m going to a game at Wrigley Field next week, but only to help out a friend. He accidentally bought twice as many tickets as he meant to (Read: Internet impaired), and he asked if I’d be interested in a few because he had a lot of money out of pocket. By the way, that’s another reason to prefer the Sox. I’m paying $115 for a ticket to see the Cubs play the lowly Pirates. The exact same seats at Comiskey against a crappy team would be $38. Yes, I realize the Cubs can demand those prices because idiots keep paying that kind of money to watch their garbage team, drink beer, and watch girls dressed like prostitutes. I planned to never see a game at Wrigley, mostly because people keep telling me that I have to go to at least one game there just to take in the atmosphere. Screw the Cubs. Don’t tread on me.
I could give you more, but I suppose that’s enough…the point is made. Many years ago, 1754 in fact, Benjamin Franklin used the illustration of a snake cut into 8 sections to inspire the colonies to fight together in the French and Indian War, or risk being split apart permanently. In 1775, the snake illustration was used along with the slogan Don’t Tread On Me to rally the troops again, this time as a call to arms against the British. No one knows who first came up with the slogan, but Benjamin Franklin was the first to draw attention to it. The idea of the slogan, and in fact 0f the entire Revolutionary War, was that very idea–we want to live life our way, without you constantly telling us what we’re allowed to do, where we’re allowed to go, how much we’re required to pay for our tea…Ben, John, George, Paul, and the rest of the boys wouldn’t put up with any more of King George’s crap, and that’s pretty much where I’m at too.
Folks, this doesn’t apply to all of you by any means–truth is I have certain individuals in mind, but it’s rude to use names and it’s rude to only send this to a few people–but there is a lifestyle out there that is so certain about the brilliance of how they live their lives that they feel compelled to criticize others who don’t live the exact same way. At various times, I’ve received criticism for some of the most ignorant things–which, by the way, I won’t mention for fear of giving away the individuals in my mind–and it just prompts this statement: Unless it’s a matter of life and death, back off and let people live their own lives. Quit telling me and everyone else around you the way we ought to live. You live your life and let us live ours. Don’t tread on me.
Now, quickly, to the salvation issue. “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but by me.” Those are the words of Jesus Christ. The Bible says it, and I believe it. If you think heaven and hell aren’t real, or perhaps that Jesus Christ wasn’t who He said He was, or perhaps that there are many paths to heaven–you better be right! Did you know that every known ancient civilization, as well as every obscure, newly found current people group, has a creation story? And a flood story? And a belief in a supreme being, whatever they may call him? Those things, as well as the ability to know right from wrong and spontaneously generate a list of same that would very closely approximate the Ten Commandments, confirm what I learned in Romans 1–God has made Himself manifest in all of us. Atheism and evolution are new inventions, created by people who could not and would not believe in something bigger than themselves. That, friends, is life and death!
