Big Tent Abolitionism is not a compromise on principle. It is a recognition that we can share the same foundation while differing in application, method, and maturity.
But here lies the irony: behind the confident slogans and clenched fists, misery lurks. Liberal women—having rejected the blessings of marriage, family, and children—often find themselves profoundly alone and miserable.
They are my life. Other than Jesus himself, they are the clearest sign of just how much God adores me; just how treasured I am to him; just how loved I am; they are a constant reminder of how true my sonship to God is. When I receive kisses from my queen, it is the Father giving his son a kiss. When my children embrace me, it is my elder brother holding me near. When we hold hands to pray around our meals, I am in close fellowship with the Trinity. It is a truly wonderful thing.
Halloween’s origins are not a matter of speculative debate, but a historical fact rooted in the profane festival of Samhain, celebrated by the pagan Celts. This was no innocent harvest party; it was a demonic rite where the veil between the living and the dead was believed to thin, inviting spirits—both benign and malevolent—into the world.