When the Cock Crows ...

When the Cock Crows…
by Karen Beth Pike, Columnist

"Taking Care"

October 7, 2003

"…And Peter called to mind the word that Jesus said unto him, Before the cock crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice. And when he thought thereon, he wept…" Mark 14:72 (King James Version)

This is from a Bible story about denial. Whether it is to save face or to keep from coming to personal harm, denial of what we believe in costs us greatly. As a society we have denied many of the things that we hold most dear. Our freedoms, bought at the cost of lives in past wars. Our families, in our pursuit of ever more prestige and money. Our wealth, as we put aside all the things that truly make us wealthy in our hearts. Our faith, as we decide that Sunday is just another day to work or play.

We are giving our freedoms away in a way that simply astonishes me. The right to bear arms is one that was one of the first that we gave away as we believed the tripe that it would keep the weapons out of the hands of the criminals. The reality is that it keeps them out of the hands of law-abiding citizens. The studies of the areas that have concealed carry laws have shown repeatedly that the crime rate is lower when the citizenry retains this right. In an old work of fiction, there was the quote "an armed society is a polite society" and the reality of this has been borne out. I hear the rooster crowing…

Another freedom that we have allowed to be taken from us is the right of free speech. If one speaks out against some oddity of law or perversion of nature, that one is screeched to silence by the proponents of those oddities and perversions. Those that take a stand against society by being for things that ultimately tear it apart are truly protected, by law and society to preach and rant on every street corner and in every publication of the printed word. I hear the rooster crowing…

We are letting our families crumble against the onslaught of these scoundrels that believe that it is somehow acceptable to raise children in aberrant behavioral households or any other situation in the name of privacy of the adults involved. What mystifies me is why this same society is baffled by the increases in juvenile criminal activity when there are no parents in the home. Children are not small adults, they are children - needing guidance and the presence of concerned parents in the home. If Daddy wants a Mercedes, perhaps he should be certain that he isn't giving Susie and Billy to the street gangs in order to acquire it. I hear the rooster crowing…

Wealth used to mean more than a bank account with six zeros. Wealth used to mean a family that has done well, married and had children of their own. A modest home that is paid for and a treasured place in the hearts of the family it housed. Gatherings at holiday times when the stores were not open for the late-comers who waited until the last moments. The places of fond memories of hard work and battles fought and won in the world. A place to recover from the slings and arrows of life, a place to be with the people that mattered most in your life - your family. We have become a nation that never has meals together as a family. A nation of derelicts that happen to live in the same structure with differing schedules and little love to fill the spaces in the hungering hearts that reside there. I hear the rooster crowing…

Sabbath days used to be days when stores were closed and everyone went to the church of their choice with their family. Worshipped the God that gave us the beautiful, productive land that we live in today. As we move away from our faith and from our churches, we turn our backs on the very things that can bring us back to the One who can help us recover all the rest of the things we've given away. We've turned Sundays into sports orgies and play days, or sadly, one more working day in the week. We've become hopeless, helpless creatures that cannot recognize the greatness of the things we've thrown away in our pursuit of the things that will not remember us when we've left this life. I hear the rooster crowing…

I ask you, what will you take back into your heart before the rooster crows again? ***

Photo of Karen Beth Pike courtesy of the author