I went looking for the biblical basis for the idea that God commands obedience to government. I found one passage in the New Testament. One.

And context matters

A Quaker Meeting House in North Carolina. A message about the fruits of slowing down. The Peace of Wild things by Wendell Berry

Benjamin Lay, c. 1681 - 3 Feb 1759

Artist: William Williams, Sr.

National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution

A gray haired woman wearing a jaunty hat reclining on a rattan loveseat in the woods, shovel by her side, she is holding up a handmade sign that says “Pardon My Joy”

Hanging out with the neighbors across the street

It was actually a double decker bus

Excerpt:

In today’s chaos economy, anything ethical is mocked as “performative.” Compassion is branded cringe. And somehow, choosing beans over beef is framed as elitist—while backyard chicken farming is celebrated as salt-of-the-earth. None of it makes sense unless you realize: it’s not about food. It’s about control. We’re being sold the illusion of structure through dominance, not care. Veganism threatens that illusion—not because it’s smug, but because it’s sovereign. It dares to act without exploiting. And that, in a system built on hierarchy, is radical.

Maybe the problem isn’t that women choose bad boys. Maybe the problem is that patriarchy gives them no room to choose differently—and then blames them when the structure fails. We don’t need better men; we need a better village.

There are people who grow by moving through space—traveling, relocating, trying new foods in new countries, drinking local wine or beer, learning new customs, maybe even picking up a language or two.

Then there are people who grow by moving through time. They stay rooted, watching the same streets evolve over decades, carrying the stories of their communities in their bones.

We romanticize one, and dismiss the other—depending on how far away it is. But the truth is, both hold wisdom. Both are necessary.

If all we ever do is wander, we risk becoming untethered.

If all we ever do is stay, we risk becoming closed off.

Together, we offer one another identity and expansion, resilience and rest.

Maybe the most radical thing we can do right now is build bridges between these ways of being.

Radical empathy doesn’t mean letting people walk all over you—it means refusing to let your curiosity die. In a culture obsessed with winning arguments, choosing to listen, ask better questions, and stay emotionally grounded is an act of rebellion. You’re not here to dominate. You’re here to understand—and maybe even be understood.

In this nostalgic and reflective blog post, the author takes us back to the carefree days of late-night beach hangouts, spontaneous karaoke, and the kind of socializing that doesn’t require a “reason” or a price tag. They argue that industrial life has commodified our human need for connection, turning it into networking events and nightlife. But in this piece, the author reclaims the beauty of unstructured joy—gathering just for the sake of being together, free from the pressure of performance. It’s a call to return to those roots of connection, where laughter and play are the true measure of a life well-lived.

We weren’t built to do life alone, yet the nuclear family asks us to be everything to everyone behind four walls—with no safety net and no rest. Our modern “freedom” grinds us down like solitary turbines in a system that feeds on isolation. It’s not that we’re failing. It’s that the structure is inhumane.