
When Saul of Tarsus set out on his journey to Damascus the whole of the known world lay in bondage. There was one state, and it was Rome. There was one master for it all, and he was Tiberius Caesar.
Everywhere there was civil order, for the arm of the Roman law was long. Everywhere there was stability, in government and in society, for the centurions saw that it was so.
But everywhere there was something else, too. There was oppression—for those who were not the friends of Tiberius Caesar. There was the tax gatherer to take the grain from the fields and the flax from the spindle to feed the legions or to fill the hungry treasury from which divine Caesar gave largess to the people. There was the impressor to find recruits for the circuses. There were executioners to quiet those whom the Emperor proscribed. What was a man for but to serve Caesar?
There was the persecution of men who dared think differently, who heard strange voices or read strange manuscripts. There was enslavement of men whose tribes came not from Rome, disdain for those who did not have the familiar visage. And most of all, there was everywhere a contempt for human life. What, to the strong, was one man more or less in a crowded world?
Then, of a sudden, there was a light in the world, and a man from Galilee saying, “Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s and unto God the things that are God’s.”
And the voice from Galilee, which would defy Caesar, offered a new Kingdom in which each man could walk upright and bow to none but his God. “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me.” And He sent this gospel of the Kingdom of Man into the uttermost ends of the earth.
So the light came into the world and the men who lived in darkness were afraid, and they tried to lower a curtain so that man would still believe salvation lay with the leaders.
But it came to pass for a while in divers places that the truth did set man free, although the men of darkness were offended and they tried to put out the light. The voice said, “Haste ye. Walk while you have the light, lest darkness come upon you, for he that walketh in darkness knoweth not whither he goeth.”
Along the road to Damascus the light shone brightly. But afterward Paul of Tarsus, too, was sore afraid. He feared that other Caesars, other prophets, might one day persuade men that man was nothing save a servant unto them, that men might yield up their birthright from God for pottage and walk no more in freedom.
Then might it come to pass that darkness would settle again over the lands and there would be a burning of books and men would think only of what they should eat and what they should wear, and would give heed only to new Caesars and to false prophets. Then might it come to pass that men would not look upward to see even a winter’s star in the East, and once more, there would be no light at all in the darkness.
And so Paul, the apostle of the Son of Man, spoke to his brethren, the Galatians, the words he would have us remember afterward in each of the years of his Lord:
“Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ has made us free and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.”
[This editorial was written by Vermont Royster in 1949 and is published yearly at Christmas in the Wall Street Journal.]


Bonded labor in that form no longer exists here in the United States, as far as I know. But severe poverty, often driven by heartless mercantilism, has been a reality for people throughout history. John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath, written in 1939, was a blistering critique of the conditions farm workers faced in California at the time—working for 25 cents a day, barely staying ahead of starvation.
So, what can I do? What do I plan to do? First, I can write this and share it with you, my friends. I can ask for your prayers—not only for me, but especially for this exploited man and his young family. You don’t need to know his name or his country to lift him in prayer.
But I can still help this man and his family. I’m sure not rich but I do have enough to try at least to buy this man out of utter literal slavery and into some form of labor that will lift them up to a more endurable daily existence.
But I’m convinced there’s often more going on than what we see. King David wrote to God, “
I believe He can do the same with people. Scripture is full of stories of those who were spiritually—and sometimes even physically—dead, yet returned to life through God’s mercy. The prodigal son was, for all intents and purposes, dead to the life he once had. But when “
Britain is a vivid example. In some places, local councils have gone so far as to order police to stop people from flying the Union Jack, Britain’s flag, on their own property! Meanwhile, others are arrested merely for standing silently across the street from abortion clinics. Such measures show just how far things have gone astray.
There had already been so much rain that the ground everywhere was soaked so all the rain just ran off into the creeks and small rivers which were already ragingly full. It was this danger of another big wave of storms that increased the danger that my creek could really rise dramatically. That’s why they were telling people to evacuate.
Of course there is so much more I could tell you. A bridge on the road I take into town was destroyed and I will have to take a detour for some time. Many bridges in the area are washed away and the loss of life is high. At the same time, there’s been a real wave of volunteers rising up everywhere to respond to all this, something that is part of the culture here. And both the political left and right have begun framing the event through their own narratives, trying to sway people to their viewpoints.
They strongly call us to something higher than the present putrid stench of politics that too often drags us down to the worst in humanity, no matter our race, nationality, or status.
nstead, He continues to guide and prod us along towards worthy actions that we can take to be like the woman Jesus referred to, “
But the real kicker came later this morning, after my daily devotion time, when I went out for a little prayer. A verse came to mind, “
And then there was more. When I went back inside to add that verse to my memory system, my eyes landed directly on Psalm 4:4—already written on one of my memory cards. I had evidently memorized it some time ago. But today, the Lord led me to look directly on it as I was going through my memory system, bringing it back a second time in such a personal, unmistakable way.