Progress begets erosion

My parents were born into a world in which the horse and buggy was the norm, hardly anyone had a phone, the electric light bulb was considered first to be a fad, then a luxury, and were preschoolers when the Titanic went down.  They lived to see computers take over the world but didn’t really care when it happened.

They saw hemlines rise from the floor to
the upper thigh and continued to consider it wrong, dangerous, and scandalous.  They were right.  I wore those skirts partially because back then there were no other options other than sewing your own.  I hated 4H.  Hated it.  Bad experience.  Bad.  Sewing was not going to happen.  It still doesn’t.  Add to the equation the fact that I wore minis in Minneapolis.  If you run fast enough, you will outrun frostbite.  Most of the time.

My parents saw hairdos morph from this to this to this.  Mom pretty much gave up keeping up in the 70’s.   She settled into the 60’s and enjoyed going to the shop once a week where she was permed, teased, and sprayed into a state of stiffness that lasted until the next appointment.  Actually, I miss that, but not the itchy scalp one could correct only with sharp objects such as pencils, letter openers, or ice picks.

So why were mini skirts dangerous?  Wrong and scandalous is a matter of moral opinion.  But, why dangerous?

I was the co-editor of the school newspaper in my junior year and editor in my senior year.  Anyone remember using these ? Type onto the stencil (correcting errors was an art), hook onto the barrel, and crank, crank, crank.  Anyway….

One of the letters to the editor was from a male student who allegedly represented all the other males, complaining about the short skirts.  This generation of males was experiencing a transitional, new dilemma — how to hold the female in high regard and respect her virtue as their parents instructed, while she’s crossing her legs in class and keeping no secrets.

Something had to give.  No, the 60’s generation was not the first to experience temptation or children conceived out of wedlock.  But the 60’s generation was the generation that recreated the rules of morality to suit their selfish desires.  The choice was made.  Did the fashion police start it? 

My generation decided that free sex was not only acceptable, but a right.  Here came the hippies, drugs, communes, incense, protests, and all the consequences of increased herpes, addiction, cults, unmarried parenthood, overdosing, and the damaging assumption that we get to do what we want to do when we want to do it, including eliminate those things that interfere with our unlimited selfish freedoms — the unwanted unborn — babies.

When there are no rules, there is no control.  As a result, common sense is not necessarily a part of the picture.  These very same people are now between 45 and 65.  Where are they?

They either lived long enough to get their heads on straight or go into politics.  They perpetuate their teenage demands of total freedom and project it onto subsequent generations or they frantically try to undo the damage by trying to teach their children right from wrong.  Unfortunately there are many left who teach that it is your right to copulate.  It is your right to get a buzz on your substance of choice.  It is your right to pursue happiness by your own definition.  It is your right to refuse instruction or correction in the name of  "who are you to judge me?"

The best counselor at AA is the one who has overcome alcohol addiction.  The best confidante and instructor you can have is someone who has been there, done that, bought the bumper sticker, conquered and gotten over it.  First you have to recognize what is wrong and what is right.  Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes  "There is nothing new under the sun."  He refers to the human heart.  There is no desire, there is no mistake that you can make, that hasn’t occured since time began.  Jesus tells us that there is nothing from which you cannot repent and be forgiven.

Recently, a stripper charged three males with rape.  If indeed, they did all that she said they did, she didn’t deserve the violence and should press charges.  But…… was she surprised that everything went terribly wrong?  If you live on the edge, you may fall off at any given moment.  Yes, I have been listening to the news and the commentaries and the talk hosts. 

Listen up:  Listen to my parents and their peers.  Listen to me.  Listen to the morals of the Bible.  You may not want something, but you may be asking for it.  You may not deserve it, but don’t be surprised if it’s dumped on you.  After all, those who cause the harm have been told for 50 years or so that they have the right to what they want when they want it and will justify getting it even at your expense.  "I can’t help it" is another chunk ‘o’ crap.

I look around me at the current fashions on the young girls.  The camisole is defined in Webster’s as an undergarment, a short negligee.  It is now an outer garment.  Women in TV dramas wear stretch tops so low cut they can’t raise their arms safely.  But DON’T LOOK !! You’re supposed to appreciate her BRAINS!!  Look into her EYES!!  tilt tilt tilt!!

Women want to be beautiful, fashionable, current, and desirable.  The clothing is an invitation.  But they don’t think they’re in any way responsible for the consequences which may very well be delivered by men who don’t respect them, men who are susceptible to their visual nature, men who believe they have the right to satisfaction, and don’t have to justify how those desires are achieved.  Men who are just plain stronger.

Don’t let your daughters set themselves up for a disaster.


3 thoughts on “Progress begets erosion

  1. I am sixty years old, have been a Christian for twenty-one years, am happily married, and I fight lust every single day of the week.

    And here in California, it seems that most women want to feed into the plans of the spirit of lust by showing their goods all over the place. This goes for Christian and non-Christian women alike!

    Thanks, Lord for Your grace that continues to protect me.

  2. If you are like me, you don’t want to get too close to the edge of your soapbox – might fall off. I’m not as agile as I used to be (and the heights scare me.

    Oh well, I have to go and take my nap now.

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