"Put no trust in princes, in mere mortals powerless to save" (Psalm 146:3)
I find this picture from today’s Drudge Report very poignant and thought-provoking.
Here we are, on the eve of the U.S. mid-term elections, and most people seem to sense the palpable unease that is in the air. A great tumult may be not be far off. Tumult and turmoil go hand in hand. And many pessimistic prognosticators have been prognosticating for the past year that something big and bad will happen in the U.S. that will shake things badly. An economic implosion, perhaps, or another successful terrorist attack, a natural disaster, or some kind of event that will provoke wide-spread civil unrest. God forbid!
I hope they’re all wrong. I hope that tomorrow’s election will help to stabilize things somewhat and maybe even move us back toward some kind of sanity in our fiscal and social policies. Heaven knows that the damage wrought in the last two years of the current regime’s disgusting bacchanalia of spending and social engineering will be hard to correct. Some say impossible. But I am hopeful. Like many of you, I am worried and prayerfully cautious about how things will turn out. I don’t put my trust in the princes and princesses of either political party, but I remain hopeful.
Look at that poor man in the picture. He is not hopeful. He personifies the despair that so many are experiencing these days. See how he kneels (kneels!) in the gutter, hands folded and face set like flint in grim mask of supplication as the presidential limousine whisks by him. I don’t know what was in his heart at that moment, and I don’t know what his political views are or what he hopes will happen in tomorrow’s election. But I am quite moved by this picture. This man represents something very sad to me about the way America has been changing in recent decades, certainly since I was born in 1960. His face reflects an abject servility that is very disconcerting when I think of how cringing and servile so many Americans have become in their attitude toward The Government. How bad can it get, and how long can it go on?
What makes me so sad — and angry, too — is that this disconsolate man should feel so hopeless that he is reduced to kneeling in the gutter in hopes that the occupant of that armored limousine will take notice of his plea for help. I see a look that says, “Please look at me! Live up to your promises. Don’t betray me. Don’t leave me here in the gutter after you promised to help me me up.”
The Government (certainly not this one) can’t save him. It can’t save us. It can’t even save itself from itself. It devours. It’s a necessary evil that seems bent on becoming ever more unnecessary.
Perhaps the most disconcerting thing about this poignant image is that it might just as well portend the calm before a storm — one man’s last, ditch effort to get help. And when the limousine passes him by once again, and things just continue getting bleaker, what then?