The Tragedy of Transgender
Let’s shift perspective a bit.
“Hey! Check my nuts!” These were the first coherent words Marine 1st Lt. James Byler could muster after stepping on an Improvised Explosive Device (IED) while patrolling in Afghanistan. His body torn to shreds, his arms ripped open, two bloody stumps above the knees, his primary concern was elsewhere.
“It’s the male instinct, the first thing you care about.” Byler’s genitals were severely damaged, but intact.
Previously, most soldiers with serious injuries to the genitals died on the battlefield. With increased MEDEVAC proficiency, thousands of soldiers from Iraq and Afghanistan survived catastrophic injuries, including those with Genitourinary (GU) injuries. These injuries include instances of complete genital amputation.
GU injuries generate tremendous psychological impacts, driving many to contemplate or attempt suicide. For a man, losing his ‘junk’ is akin to losing his manhood, the very essence of his being.
What if the enemy could convince a man to save him the trouble and cut off his own junk, to in essence, emasculate himself.
This is the tragedy of transition, of transgender.
I wonder what Bruce Jenner thinks when he looks in the mirror.
The current and perhaps decisive front for the moral revolution is the sexual front. Satan plays chess as the LGBTQ+ mafia—the ‘+’ symbol ought to raise some eyebrows—forces their way into every facet of society. Fundamentally, they’ve taken the very essence of God’s design, male and female and God’s blueprint for sexuality between them, and smeared it into a “spectrum”.
They’ve taken the concrete and made it abstract. They’ve taken that which was very good and perverted it. They’ve taken that which is easily observed and defined and subjected it to the eye of the beholder.
They target kids.
Grown men dress up as women and frolic with children on the floor of the public library, taxpayer funded of course. The public school system increasingly promotes this wickedness in the name of sex education. Hollywood is in their hip pocket as is the democratic party. The church is in their crosshairs.
And they demonize any who stand opposed or even try to remain neutral. The only acceptable response is to champion, to laud, to come on board. It’s to the point where a man, actor Mario Lopez in this case, cannot even publicly state that three-year-olds should not be making transgender decisions. Of course, he tucked his tail and meekly apologized a day later.
The rebellion is complete. All that’s left to do is wait upon the fall-out.
Make no mistake, Christians ought to stand firm in resisting this colossal evil by any legitimate means. But, what about those individuals caught up? I wonder about Bruce Jenner…and those like him.
Just because the Allies showed no quarter to the Nazi’s doesn’t mean they had no compassion for the individual German soldier.
Illness from Perversion
I’ll make a psychological assessment.
My years in the military ought to qualify me, don’t you think?
Men who dress up as women to obtain access to young children are perverts. It’s really that simple. Their sin is sexual desire for young boys or girls.
To be certain, sin is sin. Sexual sin, as it profanes the body which is the temple of the Holy Spirit, gets a special mention by Paul. (1 Corinthians 6:18) Fornication, adultery, lust, pornography, homosexuality, pick a perversion, all condemn equally.
The homosexual’s lust for the same sex is no worse than your persistent porn abuse. The pedophile’s perversity is in the same family as your wandering eye, though one could biblically argue that sin against an innocent child ups the ante.
But what of deception?
The enemy labors at proliferating a multitude of lies, including the denial of basic human anatomy, biology, and sexuality. What of those who’ve believed these lies, who define themselves by their sin instead of how God sees them? Is there room for mental illness?
When I consider the recent phenomenon of transgender—and until a few years ago, this was not even really a thing—I think of prison, bondage, captivity. At some point, they believed the satanic lie that they could ‘identify’ as whatever they like. Maybe they took steps. Maybe they began hormone therapy, started dressing as a woman, altered their appearance, changed their name.
Maybe they cut off their junk.
Back to the battlefield.
I always landed like a cement refrigerator. Every single time.
The T-10D parachute was rated to deliver 360lbs gently to the earth at a bone-shattering rate of 22 to 24 feet per second. Needless to say, the heavier you are, the harder you hit.
I recall my first jump at Benning. My stick leader was a female, pushing 110 pounds max, maybe 120. At 230 pounds without equipment, I was fifth out the door and first to the ground. As I lay there for just a second, shaking, shocked by the impact. I look skyward to behold her still open canopy as she lightly drifted to the ground.
Meanwhile, I’m giving myself a quick once-over. Legs. Not broken. Back. Solid. Junk. Yep, all good.
Lemme ask you a question…if you’re a man of course. An arm or your junk? A leg? Both legs?
David Wood interviewed members of the 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines before they went off to fight in Afghanistan. They spoke quietly of their deepest fear. Not dying. Not losing an arm or a leg. It was having their genitals crushed, ripped off, or burned up in the fiery blast of an improvised explosive device.
I understand. I truly do.
Imagine the horror.
You’re a pawn. You’re fodder. You’re a conscript.
Maybe at one point you felt different, or you liked something different. You liked dolls instead of trucks or football instead of ballet. Maybe you liked to wear opposite gender clothing, your mother’s shoes, whatever. You didn’t fit the mold.
Until recently, you would have been affirmed that you were exactly who God made you to be, in His image, male or female. Maybe you have some idiosyncrasies but they are just that, wonderful deviations to God’s design.
I have a friend, a great man of God. He is artsy, a painter, loves flowers and the violin. He is also a husband, a father, and a grandfather. I can imagine what could happen to him today as a young boy with these moderately effeminate propensities.
Back to the hypothetical scenario.
So, the most influential people in your lives, your parents, in the interest of progressiveness, foster your unique characteristics and encourage you to entertain notions of transition and the spectrum. As a youngster, these are fuzzy-sounding terms but as you age, they take on meaning.
You are affirmed at every turn, encouraged to be brave, to be yourself, practically goaded to take further action.
You are injected with hormones and drugs, suppressing growth, permanently altering your body. You take on a new life and at some point, explore a permanent “solution”, sex-change surgery. There’s no such thing as assignment, so I’ll refrain from using the Orwellian term, re-assignment.
Once the surgery is complete, you can now bask and revel in your new identity. There’s only one small problem.
It’s a lie, all of it. At some point, that awful truth will confront you.
You cut off your junk for the sake of a lie.
The lie resonates in its permanency.
There’s tragedy at the bottom of the slippery slope.
Kids being subject to the wicked perversions of grown men, forever scarred. Men walking from marriages, wives and children, to pursue shameful lust. Government and societal affirmation. The disintegration of nuclear families. The grooming of the next generation. The continual drift into who knows what is next.
Lost in the broader context of the cutthroat battle for the heart of a nation is the ruined lives and lost souls of people. These are people, lest we forget, made in the image of God, deceived into living a lie, and for the transgender people, perhaps taking a step that can never be reversed. Imagine that day, looking into the mirror in horror and thinking, “What have I done?” Is it any wonder that transgenders commit suicide at an astonishing rate.
Help trans people get the help they need. Yes, but that help is not affirmation. That help is not assurance.
That help is the Gospel of the risen Lord Jesus that tells them that they are exactly one thing, who God made them to be, whether they believe it or not.
Author - Founder
Soldier, Pastor, Author – Bradford stays busy, with his wife Ami, raising their 9 children, serving the nation, pastoring, preaching, and writing books (#3 is due out October ’17).
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