By Pastor Doug Stauffer

Have you ever wondered how to make a difference in such a big world? The Bible says, “And of some have compassion, making a difference.” (Jude 22) Compassionate people are the difference makers. Additionally, God gives us the recipe for living peaceably by telling us to pray for all those in authority.

“I exhort therefore, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be made for all men; For kings, and for all that are in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty” (1 Timothy 2:1-2).

This country seems to be changing at lightning speed. So, it behooves us to consider our humble beginnings. In just a few centuries, the U.S. evolved from a band of rebellious colonies with an untamed frontier into the world’s leading economic and military superpower. Many Americans believe that our unprecedented wealth and world dominance resulted from our ingenuity and drive.

Historically, American universities taught that our national prosperity was born from our system of government (a republic form of government instead of the communist or socialist systems). What did the U.S. possess to facilitate such a rapid transformation? The answer appeared during our nation’s infancy, and the 19th century Frenchman Alexis de Tocqueville validated it.

In 1831, the French government commissioned historian Alexis de Tocqueville (1805-1859) to travel throughout America. His official assignment was to evaluate the prison system, but Tocqueville’s travels throughout the states gave him a desire to understand America’s greatness. He was a critic of the political instability of Europe and wanted to document what he saw in America. His discoveries, as he reported to the French Senate, drew these conclusions:

“I went at your bidding, and passed along their thoroughfares of trade. I ascended their mountains and went down their valleys. I visited their manufactories, their commercial markets, and emporiums of trade. I entered their judicial courts and legislative halls. But I sought everywhere in vain for the secret of their success, until I entered the church. It was there, as I listened to the soul-equalizing and soul-elevating principles of the Gospel of Christ, as they fell from Sabbath to Sabbath upon the masses of the people, that I learned why America was great and free, and why France was a slave.”

Tocqueville wrote that the churches made the difference. Even our three-branch Republic form of government originated from God’s holy word and not man’s intellect. “For the LORD is our judge, the LORD is our lawgiver, the LORD is our king; he will save us” (Isaiah 33:22).

Notice the three-branch blueprint used by our founding fathers as delineated in Isaiah. God’s system of government included the judicial (judge), legislative (lawgiver) and executive (king) branches of government. Though this is the best form and the biblical form of government, it is not the sole reason for America’s greatness. When the United States of America honored God and His word above all else, we experienced much less turmoil. Supreme Court rulings in the early 1960s squashed the prayers of millions of school children that once traveled up to the throne of grace every school day. So, could you do one thing?

I was recently invited to the Governor’s mansion and had the distinct pleasure to meet with the Governor and his wife. In the most non-partisan way I can, I ask you to pray for Florida’s First Lady, Casey DeSantis, as she undergoes cancer treatments. I told her we would be praying for her; won’t you join me?

Dr. Doug Stauffer is pastor of Faith Independent Baptist Church. He was saved July 6, 1980, in Niceville, while stationed at the 33rd Tactical Fighter Wing at Eglin Air Force Base and has now been in the ministry for over 35 years. He has written 20 books including the best selling “One Book” trilogy (“One Book Rightly Divided, One Book Stands Alone, One Book One Authority”); along with several devotionals (“Daily Strength”series); and prophecy books (“Reviving the Blessed Hope, When the End Begins”).

By Sean Dietrich

Once the holidays are over a lot of people curl up on their sofas and sink into clinical depression. And I am not kidding.

I base this statement on an article sent to me by Glenn, a family therapist who notices a spike in depressed patients after the holidays. He gives examples of why this occurs:
1. Less sunshine.
2. No fun stuff to do.
3. Nobody parties in January.
4. Or travels.
5. Going back to work sucks.
6. And you’re fat.

I called a family therapist to get a few comments on the issue. But I got his secretary who said that he would charge $800 per hour for a phone consultation, so I decided to:
Go roller skating.

Again, I am serious. This seemed like a good idea because evidence shows that skating might help with post-holiday blues. Also, my cousin’s children were attending a birthday party at a roller rink.

So the next thing I knew, we were in a rundown skating rink with cars arriving in the parking lot by the dozen.

Carl, the man who runs the rink said, “Rinks like ours ain’t gettin’ much business no more.” Carl spit into a Mountain Dew bottle. “But today we got a big party, so hey, that’ll pay the light bill.”

The first order of business at any rink is to exchange your perfectly good shoes at the counter for some truly disgusting ones. Behind the counter, I met a woman who also appeared to be suffering from Seasonal Depression. I have met junkyard Rottweilers with warmer personalities.

“What size?” she said.

“Thirteen.”

“Thirteen? You joking?”

“No.”

“We don’t have thirteens.”

“How about a twelve and a half?”

She looked on a rack. “Biggest I got is an eleven.”

“That’s not gonna work.”

“Take it up with the complaint department.”

The woman slammed down a pair of skates that smelled like they hadn’t been fumigated since the beginning of the Cold War.

When we laced up, my feet were squishing in the soles from an unidentifiable sticky substance that felt like a overly ripe banana stuck in my shoe. And away we went.
This place was a throwback to childhood. A disco ball, a snack booth, the sound system was thumping. Soon, the rink filled with kids in birthday attire who were all high-level skating experts.

I was lost in a sea of tiny people who all had the ability to skate forward, backward, sideways, upside-down, and even one-legged. Meanwhile, I was holding onto my cousin Erin (10 years old) for dear life.

Eventually, the music changed from pulsating thunderstorms to a soft chorus. The Bee Gees were singing, “How Deep is Your Love.”

Erin told me, “This is when everyone couple-skates.”

“I know that.”

“You do? But you’re old.”

I informed Erin that this was not my first rodeo. I was not born during the Punic Wars. I know what couple-skating is, and I have even done it before. This impressed her.

Then she pointed out a boy from her school named Jay. She admitted that she wanted him to ask her to couple-skate, but Jay is not a fast mover. He is like most men and prefers to play it slow. In fact, in romantic terms, Jay moves about as fast as a geological period.
“He doesn’t even know I’m alive,” she said.

So I explained that this is actually a good sign when it comes to boys. A boy is a very subtle creature. If he likes you, he will indicate this by not making eye contact. If he REALLY likes you, he won’t talk to you and might even leave the country under a false name.

“Boys are weird,” said Erin.

“Yes they are.”

I went on to tell Erin that there is only one way to prompt a guy into action. It is a technique that has been working successfully since the beginning of time. I am of course talking about jealousy.

“How do I make him jealous?” Erin asked.

“By skating with the tallest, coolest guy in the whole skating rink who just crammed his fat feet into size-eleven Barbie-doll skates and also happens to be deadly handsome.”

“But there’s nobody here like that.”

So Erin settled for skating with me instead.

In fact, a lot of adults were skating with the littler kids. This is because if it were left up to these preteens to actually ask each other to couple-skate they would simply whip out their phones and start sending text messages to God knows who. Sometimes I worry about today’s youth.

I skated passed one middle-aged man holding hands with his daughter. He looked at me and said, “I had hernia surgery last week, if I go down, call nine-one-one.”

I am sad to say that our jealous-making ploy didn’t work. Because on our second lap, I saw Jay disappear into the arcade with his friends. And I felt like a heel.

When the song ended, peppy kid-music fired up again and it sounded like a nuclear war. The skaters loved it.

I sat on the sidelines with the adults and ate Skating Rink Food. The nacho cheese had the vague consistency of two-day-old phlegm. And that’s when we saw it.

Little Erin was holding hands with a young man who was red in the face, and didn’t dare look us in the eyes when they skated by.

“Look,” said my cousin. “He finally asked her.”

Erin gave me a thumbs up.

And if that doesn’t cure your post-holiday blues, nothing will.