 By Chadwick Walenga "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." — 1 John 1:9 I've been wondering what happened to this verse. It’s not a verse you shout at the world; it’s one you whisper to yourself. It’s not a weapon to be used against unbelievers, but a mirror to be held up by believers. It’s the original "come to Jesus moment" verse, written for the family. For us. And I've been wondering if we've stopped quoting it, stopped holding it up, because we stopped believing we had anything to confess. The author of 1 John gives us a stark choice. He says that "God is light; in him there is no darkness at all." To have fellowship with that God, we have to "walk in the light." And here's the key: walking in the light doesn't mean being perfect. It means we stop hiding our imperfections. He says if we "claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us." If we "claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar." And for decades, we have been running an intensive cultural project that is, at its core, a claim to be without sin. Without weakness. Without vulnerability. Without failure. Are you tired yet? I don't mean just end-of-the-week tired. I mean soul-deep tired. The kind of tired that comes from holding up a mask, a facade, for so long you're not sure where it ends and you begin. The exhaustion of the performance. It's not just you. Something is breaking. It’s the 75 million people who have walked away from church since the 90s, an exodus not from faith, perhaps, but from the show. So if the call was to "walk in the light"—to be honest about our sin—how did we get here? How did we end up in the dark, claiming it was light? We must confess: It didn't happen by accident. It was built. We can confess that we were afraid. Afraid of a "weak" or "sissy faith." And in our fear, we started a project to "re-masculinize" God. We needed a new icon. We didn't look to the cross, the ultimate symbol of vulnerability. We looked to the silver screen. We chose John Wayne. The connection wasn't theological; it was aesthetic. It was about toughness. Swagger. It was an unspoken mantra: "Jesus can save your soul, but John Wayne will save your ass." We must confess that once we had our icon, we built an entire system to support him. We built it in the pulpit, with a "total war" faith. We built it in the home, with "divinely ordained chains of command" and bestsellers that told women to be "sizzling lovers" in a transactional bid for a new fridge. We built it in the voting booth, choosing "rugged masculine leadership" over the "wimp factor." We built it in the marketplace, where you can still buy "bolt-action shotgun spatulas" to celebrate the warrior ethic. And then, we must confess, we plugged this entire, fragile project into an accelerant. We fed it to the algorithms. We signed up for what's been called "attention colonization." We entered a digital funhouse of mirrors designed by its very nature to amplify the most enraged and polarizing voices. It was the perfect tool for the job. It created echo chambers where our own warrior image was reflected back at us, distorted and larger than life. It turned alternative views into frightening, shunned caricatures. It exploited our cognitive vulnerabilities, feeding us dopamine hits for outrage and FOMO for conformity. It separated us from the physical, uncurated reality where nuance emerges. Online, there was no nuance, only the performance. This machine was perfect for the project because it boosted a sense of victimhood, telling us we were perpetually besieged. That victim status, in turn, was used to justify an extreme and hostile response. Outrage became our default posture. It gave us, as individuals, no real place to make a stand on our own rooted worth, making us easy prey for the enraged group. And here is the breaking point. Here is the unrighteousness. A system built on "unquestionable male authority"—now amplified by algorithms that thrive on outrage—has no room for vulnerability. And a system that fears vulnerability cannot handle weakness. It cannot handle failure. It cannot handle abuse. It can only hide it. Justify it. Or, worse, blame the victim. This is how we get a chilling pattern of leaders allegedly teaching that if a woman "didn't physically cry out for help during an assault, she was essentially equally guilty." This is how we get pastors who dismiss men who cry as "wussified" and political leaders whose "testosterone-fueled masculinity" is defended as proof they are "fit for the job." The aggressive performance just became the most exhausting false self of all. We claimed to be in the light, but we were walking in the dark. We were lying. So, where do we go from here? We are Mary Magdalene at the tomb. We are in the wreckage of our own expectations. The project we built our life around—the warrior god, the militant faith—is gone. We are weeping. And we are clinging. And into that wreckage, Jesus (John 20) speaks the first word of the new world: "Don't hold on to me." It's not a rejection. It's a liberation. You can't embrace today if you're still clinging to yesterday. Your arms aren't free to embrace the living, resurrected future if they're still holding on to the dead, militant past. The way out is not a new project. The way out is the end of all projects. The way out is to finally, truly, have that "come to Jesus moment." We confess. We let go. We redefine strength not as power, but as vulnerability. We trade the warrior ethic for the basin and the towel. We stop performing. And here is the good news. Here is the antidote to the exhaustion. "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." The performance told us we had to be strong enough. The performance told us we had to be right. The performance told us to hide our unrighteousness. But the promise of 1 John 1:9 is that our forgiveness isn't based on our performance. It's based on His character. He is faithful—He keeps His covenant promise to heal. He is just—He has already paid the price. His justice is not a threat to us, but the very foundation of our forgiveness. This isn't a tool for judging outsiders. It's a life raft for insiders. It’s the way the family comes home. We don't have to be strong. We just have to be honest. We don't have to perform. We just have to confess. The exhaustion will finally, truly, begin to fade.
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 To the Editor: Yesterday, a judge ordered the White House to restore full SNAP benefits essential food support for working families, children, and seniors. Instead of complying, Donald Trump chose to challenge the ruling in the Supreme Court. Let that sink in: the president of the United States is fighting against feeding the hungry. As this ruling unfolded, images surfaced of a man collapsing in front of the president and Trump’s reaction wasn’t concern, but irritation at the inconvenience. That moment captures everything about who he is: a man numb to human suffering, unmoved by hunger or hardship. He hosted a Great Gatsby–themed party the very night before SNAP benefits were paused, a grotesque display of excess while children go to bed hungry and food pantries run bare. He continues building his own Versailles-style ballroom while thousands of federal workers remain unpaid. This is not strength. This is cruelty disguised as power. A leader who mocks compassion, who treats his supporters as props and pawns, cannot represent the spirit of America. America is better than this. We care for one another. We feed the hungry, lift the weary, and reject the worship of greed. It’s time to remember who we are and what kind of country we want to be. Peace. Michelle Petz,LCSW  Local partners highlight riverfront improvements, river monitoring, educational programs, and upcoming winter event
White River Watershed stakeholders are continuing their shared commitment to celebrating, protecting, and enhancing the White River and surrounding communities. From riverfront revitalization to classroom education and restoration efforts, collaboration remains at the heart of ongoing efforts across the watershed. Hesperia Riverfront Activation Exciting progress continues along the White River in Hesperia, where recent improvements by the Village of Hesperia to Vida Weaver Park have encouraged more community use and outdoor enjoyment. The Village has added new sidewalks & upgraded fencing to complement the pavilion constructed in 2024, and arranged for regular maintenance of restroom facilities for public use. Summer events at the park’s pavilion saw strong participation from families, anglers, and visitors alike. In addition, a new wood turtle mural project—developed in partnership with local teacher Monica Grimard—is underway to celebrate the area’s wildlife and educate residents about river ecology. Dam Updates and Public Input A public hearing regarding the White Cloud Dam is anticipated soon, with a public comment period open through November 10. See the City of White Cloud website for information on how to submit comments. In September, the Village of Hesperia hosted a public open house to gather feedback on dam rehabilitation. Information was provided on dam rehabilitation design options and the potential for a fish passage structure. Education, Monitoring, and Stewardship Education and data-driven stewardship remain at the heart of watershed engagement. The White River Watershed Partnership (WRWP) currently monitors stream temperature at nine sites across the watershed. In collaboration with Trout Unlimited, WRWP also maintains five DIY Sensor Stations that track temperature, depth, and conductivity— providing valuable insight into river health. This data is publicly available at monitormywatershed.org. WRWP representatives have also partnered with the Oceana and Newaygo Conservation Districts and MSU Extension Service, volunteering time to introduce 5th and 6th grade students to macroinvertebrates—the small aquatic creatures that help indicate water quality and ecosystem health. With support from the Schrems West Michigan Chapter of Trout Unlimited, the Salmon in the Classroom program continues to thrive in area schools, giving middle school students the opportunity to raise and release salmon while learning about river ecosystems. This past June students released their salmon into the White River, participating in benthic macroinvertebrate sampling, fly casting and other activities connecting science with hands-on conservation. Additionally, the Conservation Stewards Program—offered through Michigan State University Extension—has returned for a second year in Newaygo County thanks to high community interest. The program trains volunteers in natural resource management and conservation leadership. Community Events The stakeholder team is planning a winter community event featuring local fishing guide Kevin Feenstra, who will share insights on Muskegon River angling and wildlife. Keep an eye on Trout Unlimited social media for more information. Ongoing Partnership Efforts Trout Unlimited and other partners continue to support habitat projects and other stream restoration efforts, including planned habitat enhancement on the Upper South Branch White River with Michigan DNR, replacement of undersized and perched culverts to promote fish passage and flood resiliency with the US Forest Service, Michigan DNR and Newaygo County Road Commission and access improvements to Podunk Landing with the Oceana Road Commission and Oceana Conservation District. The effort to restore Sadony Bayou in White River Township has made large strides over the past two years. One accomplishment was a study to evaluate the fish, insects, and water chemistry and another was a community visioning project that engaged residents in identifying the ways Sadony Bayou could once again be a vibrant and healthy part of the lower White River watershed. Plans are underway for determining options for restoring the bayou. Through these collective efforts, the watershed community continues to demonstrate that meaningful progress happens when residents, organizations, and local leaders work together to care for the river that connects us all.  By Chadwick Walenga The Map We Still Live In My friend Mark Kane handed me a gift several weeks ago. It’s a stack of paper from 1973, his master’s report, 160+ pages. But it’s not just a report. It’s a map. And it’s a story. And the strangest part is that it’s a map of our home. A story about this community that we still call home, written 50-plus years ago. A story about a handful of faithful people who looked around at Newaygo, Oceana, and Lake counties and decided to get to work. Reading it, I’m struck by how little the core of our community life has changed. The good, and the bad. The Bad That Lingers The report names this national delusion, this myth we were (and in many ways still are) drunk on: "Metropoliana". It’s the great, shining story that says the City is all that matters. A story that makes it easy to forget, to make invisible, the millions of people living in quiet misery. So many wondering what Thanksgiving is going to look like. What healthcare will be available. "Invisible" isn't just a feeling. It has numbers. Back then, the report tells us, this "financial starvation" of rural communities was so complete that out of 83 counties in Michigan, Lake County was ranked dead last, 83rd, in the Poverty Index Score. These are the ones the psalmist cries out for: "the afflicted who have no helper". That’s the bad that lingers. The feeling that the systems, the big national stories, the flow of money... they just don't see us. They've been failing to see us for a long, long time. The Good That Endures But that’s not the whole story. And this is where the map gets personal. Because Mark’s story of "the good" forces a gentle confession. It shows us what the work of Jesus looks like, and in doing so, it highlights how easily that name has been hijacked. So often today, the loudest voices have confused the mission. They’ve traded the sacrificial, serving nature of Jesus for a "culture warrior" persona. They’ve embraced "militant masculinity" and "political coercion" that is all about defining "us" against "them". It’s a faith of "patriarchal authority" that seeks to rule, not to serve. But Mark's report shows us another way. The original way. It shows us what happens when a small group of people, rooted in a deep faith, decides to stop waiting. They remembered their original vocation, the one from the very beginning: "to tend and keep" the garden. Coming out of the Quaker tradition, this group from the American Friends Service Committee had a different idea. They weren’t going to be saviors. They were going to be "catalysts". Not "heroes", not the "bullhorn guy" with an "agenda-driven" love, but the "spark". This is a profound, humble initiation, not a quest for glory. And their work wasn't abstract. This was justice you can touch. With a hammer. This isn't the "religious show" that God "can't stand" because it "ignores the poor". This is the holy, gritty work of "doing good deeds". They were building relationships, not just porches. They were "embedding", listening, and sharing meals. They were living out the truth that "how we treat others is how we treat God". That’s the good that endures. The Wall We Still Hit But the bad wasn’t done. Just as this local, faithful, catalytic energy was ready to scale up... the system spoke. Washington. Early 1973. President Nixon. A moratorium. "All low-income housing subsidies... frozen". Just like that. The faucet is turned off. The O.E.O. funding they were counting on... gone. That’s the "wall". That’s the moment your local, grassroots hope runs smack into a massive, impersonal, political reality. It's the very test Jesus talked about. This is the "rain" and the "streams" and the "winds" that "beat against that house". The question in that moment is: What is your foundation built on? Is it built on the sand of whether or not you are in the good graces of those who hold the keys to federal funding and systemic approval? Or is it built on the rock of those who actually "puts them into practice"? When the wall hits, when the resources dry up and it feels hopeless, the only move left is the one we’re promised always works: "Is anyone crying for help? God is listening, ready to rescue you". The Pivot We Can Be This is the good part. This is the page of the map that I want to laminate. What do you do when the system fails? When "Washington" makes it clear it isn't coming to save you? They didn't pack up. They didn't go home. They pivoted. They held a conference in May '73. And the whole conversation, the entire mission, shifted. The question was no longer, "How do we get the money from Washington?". The question became, "What can we do? Right here. With what we have?". And that... that’s the question for the church. It’s the pivot from a faith of "what can I get?" to the path of "what can I give?". It’s the pivot from a faith of coercion to a faith of co-suffering. They stopped waiting for the national dam to power their city and started building their own local generators. They got "scrappy" and "resourceful". This is the pivot to a different economy. It's the economy where you are commanded "to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share". It's the radical, earthy command from Deuteronomy to not go over your vines twice, but to "Leave what remains for the foreigner, the fatherless and the widow". It's the economy of Acts 2, where they "had all things in common... sharing them with all, as anyone might have need". This is what it looks like to "Carry each other’s burdens". My friend Mark, in sharing this report, gave us more than a history lesson. He gave us a blueprint for reclaiming our identity. He reminded me that the "bad" in our community—the feeling of being overlooked, the systemic walls—it's not new. But he also reminded me that the church's temptation to fight the wrong battles—to become "culture warriors" instead of community healers—is a distraction from our real work. The enduring, powerful good is the faithful pivot. It’s the scrappy, creative, relentless energy of a few people who believe their job is to show up for the common good. This is the work that recognizes the "divine breath is flowing through every single human being", making the ground we stand on holy. This is the work that dismantles the "us vs. them" walls, because in Christ, there is "no division... we are all in a common relationship". That was the church being the church in 1973. It’s the only way the church can be the church today. It’s the "defining mark" Jesus gave us: "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another". Thank you, Mark, for reminding us. For showing us the map. Now, it's our turn to pick up the hammer.  By Chadwick Walenga So, you join this thing. This new movement. This... way. First Century or 21st Century. What’s different? Not just in your head. Not just some new ideas you believe. Not because of where you grew up. But on Monday morning. When the sun comes up and you have to go to the market, and you have to deal with your neighbor, and the legion patrol walks by. What actually changes? It changes in how you're held. How you're supported. It's not just a solo flight. The encouragement isn't just a pat on the back. It’s communal. It's practical, like a shared meal or a full wallet when yours is empty. It's verbal, like a friend reminding you, daily, to stay true when things get hard. And it's spiritual, this deep sense of shared hope. That's what changes. And it all starts with this sentence. Just a few words. "Jesus is Lord." In the first century, this phrase wasn’t a popular worship song on Sunday morning or a prayer before a meal in a fancy ballroom. So… It sounds simple to us. Pious, maybe. Something you put on a bumper sticker. But in their first century world? In the Empire? That was... that was like lighting a fuse. Because everyone knew who "Lord" was. Caesar. Caesar was Lord. His face was on the money. His armies kept the "peace." His power was total. So when this little group of people, meeting in a back room, starts saying, "No, actually, Jesus is Lord"... that's not just a prayer or a catchy tune. That's a political declaration. It's treason. If Jesus is Lord, then Caesar... isn't. Not ultimately. You're announcing your allegiance. You're saying, "We live under a different king." This isn't just a new club. It's a counter-empire. See, Rome knew how to fix the world. With a sword. With force. With power and expansion. You get in line, or the legion gets you in line. But these people, their "good news," was that the world gets put right in a completely different way. Not by ruling over people, but by serving them. By showing kindness. Peace. Especially to the people the Empire stepped on. The poor. The forgotten. The ones on the "underside" of power. You don't rule them. You wash their feet. And the whole community was meant to be a living, breathing picture of this kind of power. So, if you say "Jesus is Lord," and not Caesar, what does that do to your wallet? What does it do to your house? And that's not a 2,000-year-old question. That’s a right-now, Sunday through Saturday morning question. You see the news. You see the lines already getting longer at the food distributions around the county. It's hitting home. Just a few weeks before Thanksgiving, and the benefits people were counting on are paused. You see the panic. And that ancient question lands right on your doorstep. What does "Jesus is Lord" do to your wallet, today? This is where it gets really beautiful. And really... costly. Their economics flowed right out of their allegiance. It was all about radical fellowship. Radical generosity. They said they were "one in heart and mind." And then they proved it. They had... listen to this... all things in common. This wasn't just putting an extra coin in the offering box. People were selling their property, their possessions, and bringing the money to make sure everyone was cared for. The goal? That there would be "no needy persons among them." Imagine that. A community with no poverty. Not as a distant dream, but as the daily plan. Now, was this some kind of brief, utopian flash in the pan? Probably not everyone liquidating everything on day one. It was more like... a radical availability. A new mindset. What's "mine" is suddenly held loosely. It's available for the community's needs. They were building their own safety net, right there, with each other. They were, in the most practical, financial way, carrying each other's burdens. And the hospitality... my goodness. The door was always open. For the traveling teacher, for the person fleeing persecution, for the friend in prison. Giving a meal, a bed—that was just what you did. It was love in action. Think about being willing to visit someone in a state prison, to be seen with them, to bring them food, knowing it makes you a target. They had friends who "were not ashamed of his chains." What a line. And you can't share your money like that if you can't share your life. You need incredible honesty. So they did. They were encouraged to confess their sins... to each other. To pray for each other's healing—not just physical, but relational. The healing of friendships. This was a community trying to live with no masks, no hypocrisy. And maybe the most explosive part of all? Who was in the room. This community shattered the Roman social rulebook. All those lines that kept people in their place? Jew and Gentile. Slave and free. Rich and poor. Male and female. Gone. In Christ, they said, there is "no distinction." Think about that. The wealthy Roman landowner, the person who owned other people, is now sitting at the same table, sharing the same loaf of bread, with someone who, outside that room, is their legal property. But inside? Inside, they are "brother" and "sister." This isn't just tolerance. It's a whole new creation. It’s social anarchy, in the best way. So... what powers this? What keeps this going? Because this is hard. It's risky. It costs you. It comes down to their hope. It all comes back to the resurrection. But not in the way we sometimes think. This wasn't about just... escaping. Getting out of this broken world and flying off to heaven somewhere else. No. Their hope was bigger. It wasn't about abandoning creation, it was about the renewal of creation. Restoration. God is going to put this world, the whole cosmos, back together. They saw it like this: there's the "present age," which is broken and under the sway of all the wrong powers. And then there's the "age to come," which is God's full, beautiful reign. And what they believed, what got them out of bed in the morning, was that in Jesus's resurrection, the "age to come" had already started. It had broken into the present. It wasn't just a future promise. It was a present reality. And that's what the community was. All of it. The sharing, the equality, the service. It wasn't just them trying to be good people. It was them living out a foretaste. A little sample of what the new, restored world already looks like. They were living the future, now. That's what let them endure suffering, even death. They weren't just gritting their teeth. They had, as one of them said, "the joy of the Holy Spirit" in the middle of it all. Because they were tasting the new world, right there in their life together. That big, cosmic restoration made the small, present sacrifice make sense. So, in the end, what is this thing? It's not a set of beliefs you just agree to. It's a way you live. A set of radical, observable, costly actions. Saying "Jesus is Lord" wasn't a ticket to the afterlife. It was a whole new operating manual for this life. It immediately changed how you used your money, who you ate with, and where your ultimate allegiance truly was. And the community itself—this bizarre, beautiful, upside-down family of slaves and owners, rich and poor, all sharing one life—that was the proof. That was the sign to the world that their claim about this new king was actually true. Their daily life was the message. So in the end, that was their encouragement. It wasn't a separate program. It was the whole thing. The practical support, the radical sharing, the constant verbal reminders to keep going—reminding each other that you "must go through many hardships"—and to spur each other on to love. It all flowed from that one, central hope. The life of the "age to come" wasn't just a future dream; it was the fuel for their daily, communal life, sustaining them with joy right in the middle of their struggles. That shared life was the encouragement. That life was the message. Please support your local food pantry.  By Chadwick Walenga There’s this line from Brennan Manning that has just... lived in my head for decades. "The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians: who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable." I remember the first time I heard that. Man, I'm showing my age... it was on the DC Talk Jesus Freak album. And back then, it felt like this... this fist-in-the-air-anthem. You know? A moment of clarity, like, 'Yeah! It's us! We're the problem! We have to be better!' We were aware that we were in the way of people seeing Jesus. But now... it just feels different. The frustration is still there, but it’s heavier. You look around and... it seems like people don’t really care what you are saying. Which brings me to this whole idea. This… spiritual inattention. It’s this pattern you see, right? All through the Gospel story. It’s not about people being unintelligent. It’s not about IQ scores. It’s this… this active, and you can just feel the frustration... this failure to see what is right there. In front of their faces. And it’s everyone. The religious insiders, the leaders. The general crowds. And Jesus’s own inner circle. His best friends. It’s this deep, almost ingrained blindness. So the question isn't just what did they miss. The real question, the one that gets under your skin, is why. What was actually causing that blindness? You start with the religious authorities. The teachers, the experts, the ones who had it all figured out. And for them, the core issue was willful blindness. They were stuck on the external. Jesus, he just... he doesn't mince words. He calls them "Frauds!" "Hypocrites!" Because their entire lives were focused on appearing righteous, on being perceived as important people in public. They'd do things specifically to be seen. Making their prayer boxes—their phylacteries—wider, their tassels longer. Loving the best seats at the dinner party. Loving that public respect. They essentially swapped out a genuine, breathing, alive spiritual life for things you could measure. For performance. For status. And they even used the law itself to maintain that status. Jesus says they "tie up these heavy, cumbersome loads," these crushing burdens, and put them on everyone else… but they "were not willing to lift a finger to move them." They became roadblocks. Literally stopping people who were genuinely trying to find their way into the kingdom. And on top of all that, they're demanding proof. A "sign from heaven." You can just feel Jesus's frustration. The text says he "sighed deeply." Groaned. He calls them a "wicked generation." He says, "You guys can look at the sky and predict the weather... 'red sky at night,' all that. But you cannot interpret the signs of the times?" All this... all this life, all this restoration happening right in front of you... and you just don't see it. He uses that image, right? Cleaning the outside of the cup. Making it all shiny. While the inside is still caked with greed and filth. It doesn't matter how shiny you make the outside if the inside is corrupt. That’s the core of their inattention. Okay. So that’s the leadership, blinded by status and hypocrisy. But what about the people closest to Jesus? The disciples? If the leaders were blinded by pride, the disciples… their issues feel different. It was persistent confusion. They were just... slow on the uptake. These guys were with him 24/7. They saw the miracles. They heard the teaching firsthand. So why were they still missing the point, so often? That story about the bread. It’s just baffling. They have just seen Jesus feed thousands of people. With a few loaves and fish. Twice. And moments later, they’re in a boat, wringing their hands, worried... because they forgot to pack a lunch. Seriously. Jesus has to spell it out: "Do you still not understand? You still don't get it?" And Mark, he gives this editorial comment, right? He says it's because "their hearts were hardened." They "had not understood about the loaves." They just couldn't let the extraordinary sink in. Like when he warns them about the "leaven of the Pharisees." He’s talking about their teaching, their corrupting influence. And what do the disciples think? They think he's annoyed about the bread again. They just couldn't seem to lift their gaze from the immediate, physical problem to grasp the strategic, symbolic point. But it’s deeper than just bread. They fundamentally missed the mission. Think about Peter. He has this flash of insight, this... download from heaven. "You are the Christ." It’s the A+ answer. And then, seconds later... Jesus starts teaching plainly... that he "must suffer many things... and be killed and after three days rise again." And what does Peter do? He rebukes Jesus. They just didn't get it. The text says they were "afraid to ask." Suffering and death... that just... it wasn't part of their game plan for a Messiah. Which is why, even as he's pointing toward the cross, they're stuck in this petty, upside-down thinking... the constant arguments about "who was the greatest." It goes all the way to the end. Even after the resurrection, Jesus has to scold them for their "lack of faith and their stubborn refusal to believe those who had seen him." They were with him 24/7. And they were still missing the point. So. You have the institutional blindness. You have the inner-circle blindness. And then... then there's the crowds. The general public. And here, the blindness comes from a few things. First, Jesus was intentionally... cryptic. His message... it was dynamite. It was "politically incorrect." If he'd just said it plainly, Herod or Rome would have shut him down. It would have been mislabeled as just another political revolution. So he taught in parables. In code. Precisely so that those "outside," those "looking and looking but never seeing," wouldn't get it. It was a filter. He was sowing seed, and he knew the outcome depended entirely on the soil. So what was wrong with the soil? Just... the daily grind. Worldly worry. Materialism. As he explained the parable, some seed gets "choked by the worries of the present age, and the deceit of riches." This is the anxiety he tackles head-on. The "do not worry" teaching. "Don't worry about what you'll eat, or drink, or wear." And he redirects their attention. He says, "Look. Look around you. Consider the ravens. Consider the lilies." He’s trying to shift their focus. To shift it off their own anxieties—their "little-faiths," he calls them—and onto God's character. The antidote to worry… is a deliberate shift in attention. Instead of chasing after material security, he says: "Seek first his kingdom." Because this focus on stuff, it's not just a distraction. It’s idolatry. "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." And then that stark conclusion: You cannot faithfully serve both God and Money. It’s a choice. And for many in the crowd, their faith was just... superficial. It's why, after another feeding miracle, Jesus has to call them out. He says, "You're not seeking me because you understood the signs. You're seeking me because you ate the loaves and had your fill." They came for the free lunch, not the spiritual transformation. So, all of this... it brings us to this final, huge idea. People weren't just distracted. Many were actively looking for the wrong thing entirely. There was this widespread expectation that the kingdom would be... well, dramatic. Visible. A big political upheaval. The kind of kingdom they were used to. And Jesus's vision... it was completely different. It was subtle. Internal. Often hidden. And trying to fit this new reality into the old ways of thinking? It just wouldn't work. That's the power of that image Jesus uses. The new wine... in old wineskins. You can't. The old structures, the old ways of thinking, the rigid traditions... they simply cannot contain the dynamic, new, expanding reality of what Jesus is bringing. The old skins... they burst. He was inaugurating something fundamentally new. But if you were determined to cling to the old wineskins, to your expectation that God must work the way you think he should… You'd miss it. Entirely. So when you look back... this spiritual inattention... it consistently came down to getting stuck. Stuck on outward appearances and religious status, like the Pharisees. Stuck on internal status games and a bad "game plan," like the disciples. Stuck in the mud of everyday material worries, like the crowds. Stuck on clinging to the past, like the old wineskins. The common thread is a failure to shift attention. Jesus was constantly trying to redirect them. Away from the visible, the temporary, the self-focused... and toward the invisible, the eternal, the transformative reality of God's kingdom. Which makes that final command, the one that echoes through the letters, so important. "Stop drifting." Be alert. "Pay the most careful attention... to what we have heard." And this is where it lands for us. Because if they could be that blind, that close to the source... we have to take this warning with deadly seriousness. It brings that Brennan Manning quote right back into focus, doesn't it? That "unbelievable" gap between what we say we believe, and what the world sees. And maybe this... maybe this analysis helps answer that question that's so frustrating. That question of… 'Why aren't people responding to the Jesus I'm posting about on my socials? Why isn't it landing?' You wonder, 'Is it because they're offended by Jesus? Are they just hard-hearted?' Please... just... in love... consider this. What if it's not that they're offended by Jesus? What if... what if they subscribe to a different Jesus than the one we're transmitting? What if they've read the story, and they see the Jesus who always stands with the oppressed? The marginalized. The 'least of these'? And they're the ones looking at us... and they're asking, with that same deep, groaning frustration that Jesus had... 'How can you not see it?' 'How can you not see what's happening in the world right now... and see that this is where Jesus is?' '...And you don't even seem to be aware that any oppression is happening at all.' What if... what if our attention is stuck? Stuck on our own status, like the disciples? Stuck on our own traditions and external righteousness, like the Pharisees? Stuck on our own material comfort and security, like the crowds? Stuck... in our own old wineskins? And in all that... are we the ones missing the subtle, quiet, unexpected ways that the real kingdom... is actually showing up? Right now. Right in front of us. 
Despite a rainy morning, a large crowd lined the street along Veterans Park as part of a nationwide “No Kings” event to protest the policies and actions of President Trump and his administration. According to the group Indivisible, the ‘No Kings’ phrase refers to the principles in the U.S. Constitution that are designed to ensure no one person should have unchecked power. The event drew substantial crowds from large cities to small towns with over 100 rallies taking place in Michigan alone. In nearby Grant Rapids thousands marched through downtown led by over 2 dozen members of the clergy while another large group gathered at Riverside Park. In Lansing protestors gathered on the Capitol lawn and Heritage Landing was the site for demonstrators in Muskegon. Those in attendance at the Fremont event had this to say about Saturday’s protest. Fremont showed up! Between 350–400 people filled both sides of Main Street near Veterans Park for No Kings 2.0, a powerful show of hope, happiness, and determination to defend democracy. I joined in, costumed as a frog, representing Frogtifa: United we stand, divided we croak! Our small town proved once again that community and courage thrive here. - Michelle Petz Today was a great day. The positive energy at these rallies is contagious. It reminds me of a giant family reunion with like-minded people, old friends and people you haven’t run into for ages. We had over 350 people show up at Veterans Memorial Park in Fremont. Lots of honks and thumbs up. The signs and costumes were so creative. -Shari Werner The No Kings Protest in Fremont hosted by Indivisible Newaygo County, with attendance and support by other organizations and over 350 individuals, was a living testament to the changing tide of support for this president and his administration. Even here in Newaygo County! Our communities know when our administration is putting us on a fast track to dismantling our democracy and allowing one branch of our government to break the checks and balances needed to prevent a dictatorship. It is a fast-moving slippery slope and our people are stepping up to shout and vote ‘No More!’- Sally Waggoner Our greatest take-a-ways from the Saturday, October 18th rally supporting democracy and the rule of law from Veterans Memorial Park in Fremont were: 1) The dramatic reduction of negative response from passing vehicles passengers compared to that response during the last Fremont rally; 2) The increase in numbers of concerned citizens choosing to participate in a peaceful protest action. The depth of concern of the participants over the state of our democracy as demonstrated by their messages on signs. These things are very encouraging, but we are not "there" yet. "There" being the return to the rule of law in our country. Perhaps our next national rally will draw 10,000,000 and the next 20,000,000 persons. The voices of democracy will be heard. In the past, they have been heard, think back. Think of how our raised voices helped end apartheid in South Africa. Think how massive student protests helped bring an end to our misguided war in Vietnam. Think and act. -Rod Geers & Kathy Misak The White House said there would be terrorists, antifa, and America haters at "No Kings" rallies. What we saw at the Fremont rally on Saturday were patriots and American flags. No terrorists, just local citizens who love our democracy and want to protect it. Oh, there was a clown, several frogs, and a Superman, but even these characters seemed peaceful. Nearly 400 citizens gathered along both sides of Main St. at Veterans Park, joining millions more in large cities and small rural villages across America. "No Kings" was organized in order to push back against the autocratic actions of the Trump Administration and stand up for American democracy. It was a resounding statement of patriotism. Will the White House listen?” - George K. Heartwell
 Chadwick Walenga By Chadwick Walenga Let’s talk about the end of the world. For a lot of us, when we hear "Book of Revelation," our minds jump to a very specific kind of story. Maybe you're thinking of the Left Behind books, which have sold over sixty-five million copies. One in five Americans has read at least one. In this story, Jesus returns as a conquering king, ushering in a "violent bloodbath" where his enemies are "splayed and filleted". It's a peace brought by the sword. It's rugged, it's masculine, and it's incredibly popular. And it raises a fascinating question: how did the central hero of Christianity, whose victory came through a cross, get reimagined as a kind of divine John Wayne? How did the defining image of victory in Revelation—a Lamb standing as though it had been slaughtered—get traded for a warrior on a warhorse? The answer, I think, is that we modern people connect with images and symbols much more than we do with doctrine and dogma. We find our truth in movies, novels, and music. And the story of a conquering hero is a powerful one. But what if we’ve been reading the wrong story all along? The Book of Revelation is notoriously difficult. Its imagery is strange, its structure is complex, and it’s wide open to misinterpretation. The thing is, it was never intended to be an "apocalyptic soap opera" or a coded forecast of events in our future. It was a first-century socio-religious critique of Roman power. It’s a political cartoon, full of code and metaphor that its original audience would have understood instantly. The problem comes when we read it with a "wooden literalism", trying to map its symbols onto our headlines. This turns a timeless message about the nature of power into a fanciful end-times schedule. And this is where it gets really dangerous, especially when we talk about a word like peace. Because if you misread the story, you can end up with a very different kind of peace. You can end up with the "peace" of the sword, the "peace" of the conquering hero. But Revelation was written to unmask that very idea as a great lie. So today, we're going to peel back the layers of our modern interpretations and try to get back to the original, explosive message of the book. We're going to talk about how the Roman Empire sold a brilliant, attractive, and deceptive brand of peace. And how Revelation stands up and exposes it, offering instead a more challenging, more hopeful, and far more revolutionary vision of what true peace actually looks like. So: peace. It seems simple, right? But when you start looking at it through the lens of a book like Revelation, it gets messy. Fast. Because we’re not just talking about peace; we’re talking about false peace. We’re talking about how the biggest, scariest figures in the story—the Beast, the Empire, the Antichrist—don’t show up with horns and a pitchfork. They show up with a smile, a handshake, and a promise of stability and prosperity. And this is the key: Revelation isn't just saying these powers are violent. It's saying they’re deceptive. They wrap up tyranny in the beautiful language of peace. To really get this, you have to understand the air people were breathing 2,000 years ago. This wasn’t some abstract philosophical debate; it was a direct, razor-sharp critique of Rome. Rome had a brand name, and it was a brilliant one: The Pax Romana. The Roman Peace. It was their core story. "See these roads? See how you're not getting robbed on your way to the market? You can thank us for that". It was the promise of justice and order for the whole known world, and it was the default setting for reality. And Revelation stands up and shouts, "That’s the big lie!". The imperial propaganda machine was massive. Emperors like Augustus were called "Savior" and were said to have launched a "golden age". This wasn't a fringe idea; it was stamped on coins, carved into buildings, and announced in official decrees. Believing the "good news" of Caesar's peace wasn't just a good idea; it was your civic duty. So if the emperor is the "savior" bringing "peace," how do you even begin to push back without getting crushed? This is where the New Testament writers get clever. They take the Empire’s language, and they repurpose it. When the angels announce Jesus's birth in the Gospel of Luke, they use the exact same language of "peace on earth." It’s not just a nice Christmas carol; it’s a political statement. They are directly challenging Caesar's claim, saying, "No, this one—the baby in the manger—he is the real Savior, the real bringer of peace". And this is the move Revelation makes: It says your ultimate allegiance belongs to this true King, not the one demanding your worship and your taxes. The author is looking at the Pax Romana and saying, "We see your so-called peace, and we reject the entire violent foundation it's built on". So, if the Pax Romana is the ultimate peace, why does Revelation’s vision get so brutal? Because it’s showing you what’s really under the hood. The Lamb opens the seals, and after a rider of deceptive conquest comes a rider on a fiery red horse. His job? "To take peace from the earth and make people slay each other". It’s a stunning confession. The system that sells itself as the ultimate peace-bringer actually maintains its power by stirring up conflict to keep everyone in line. And how does it do it? Through spectacle and economics. The "false prophet" in the story is like the ultimate propaganda minister and economic enforcer, all rolled into one. He performs "great miraculous signs"—flashy displays of progress and power—not for good, but "to deceive the inhabitants of the earth" and make them worship the Beast. But it’s not just about winning hearts and minds. It’s about your wallet. The critique gets chillingly practical. The system sets it up so that "no one could buy or sell unless they had the mark," the symbol of total allegiance to this ruling power. You play along, or you get cut off. Ruined. So if that’s the false peace, what’s the real thing? The contrast couldn't be sharper. The Beast is the conquering emperor on a warhorse, the symbol of military might. But how does the true King, the Messiah, show up? He’s humble, riding on a donkey. It’s the polar opposite of imperial power. This is the one who "shall command peace to the nations". True peace, in this vision, doesn't come from force. It comes from humility, from reconciliation, from destroying the "dividing wall of hostility" between people. It all leads to the final vision of the story: not the conquering of nations, but the "healing of the nations". Healing is the opposite of the Beast's system, which thrives on dividing and exploiting. So, if the ancient critique was about unmasking a system that used spectacle, propaganda, and economic control to enforce a false peace, it leaves us with a pretty heavy question. In our own hyper-connected, digital world, what modern systems might be using amazing technological "signs and wonders" to push their own brand of peace and prosperity, all while demanding our total economic and political allegiance? How do we tell the difference between genuine, humble progress and sophisticated propaganda designed to serve a lie? Chadwick Walenga is the writer behind "Marginal Theology", a weekly column that explores the vital intersection of faith and public life. Drawing on experience primarily within Evangelical spaces, this column seeks to move beyond rigid religious ideology and the partisan co-option of faith to reclaim the Gospel's essential call for hope, compassion, and justice. A resident of Newaygo County, Chadwick is committed to sharing truth gently, with patience and love, while advocating for clarity against ambiguous claims and evasions of truth.  Carol Mills Executive Director of Newaygo County Mental Health By Carol Mills Over the last several years, there has been growing debate around the best approach to public safety. Should we hire more police officers? Or replace them with social workers? The truth is, we need both. A balanced public safety strategy combines compassion, support, and treatment. To truly break the cycles of poverty, addiction, mental illness, and crime, we must begin where these struggles often converge: in the county jail and court system. Poverty is frequently generational, passed down like an invisible inheritance. Research shows that a family's likelihood of experiencing poverty increases by 40% if the father is incarcerated. But the damage doesn’t stop there. Upon release, formerly incarcerated individuals face barriers to housing, employment, loans, and transportation. Meanwhile, their children often suffer emotionally, academically, and socially—continuing the cycle. Many inmates are not violent criminals but individuals struggling with untreated trauma, mental illness, and substance use disorders. Unfortunately, these conditions often go unaddressed in the traditional jail system. A Model for Reform in Newaygo County Newaygo County is a small rural county in Western Michigan, with a population around 50,000 people. It is rural in nature, and draws summer vacationers to its rivers and lakes. The Newaygo County Jail is also an authorized site to hold federal prisoners, which normally comprise more than 50 percent of the inmate population. Newaygo County is proving that change is possible. A strong partnership between Newaygo County Mental Health and the Newaygo County Sheriff’s Office is paving the way for a new, more effective approach—one that prioritizes both public safety and human dignity. Newaygo County Mental Health has long provided crisis intervention, therapy and suicide prevention services inside the jail. But recent expansions, with the goal of reducing relapse and recidivism into the jail are showing great promise. Additional staff have been dedicated to the services offered in the jail, including:
Bringing Innovation Behind Bars: Neurofeedback Therapy Newaygo County is at the forefront of innovation in their incorporation of neurofeedback into jail-based treatment. Neurofeedback is a science-backed, non-invasive brain training therapy that helps individuals regulate brain activity, reduce emotional dysregulation, and improve decision-making skills. For those with PTSD, ADHD, anxiety, or substance use disorders, neurofeedback can be life-changing. When integrated into serving individuals who are incarcerated, neurofeedback helps inmates manage stress and trauma, improve self-regulation, and help prepare them for more effective engagement in therapy, recovery, and reintegration into the community. Historically, over the last five years, nearly 80 percent of inmates that completed the neurofeedback program while in jail have not been re-arrested for drug related offenses. Recovery Coaching: Lived Experience, Real Support Another key piece of the puzzle is recovery coaching. Recovery coaches are people who have walked the path of addiction and come out the other side. Their lived experience provides powerful, authentic support for individuals just beginning their own recovery journey. Recovery coaches start working with individuals while they are still incarcerated—building trust and motivation early—and then continue supporting them through reentry into the community. This continuity of care is crucial for reducing recidivism and improving long-term outcomes. Positive Outcomes Through Healing, Not Just Punishment Public safety isn't only about responding to crime—it's about preventing it by addressing the root causes and social issues. This requires investments in law enforcement and in the mental health professionals who can help break these cycles before they lead to another arrest or probation violation. Newaygo County is showing what’s possible when we work together—law enforcement, therapists, recovery coaches, and social workers—to support individuals, families, and the community as a whole. Can we break the cycle? Yes. But it requires vision, courage, and commitment from everyone involved. The good news? It’s already happening in Newaygo County. Ms. Mills is the Executive Director of Newaygo County Mental Health
NC RESA Superintendent appeals to the community for help, support
Dear Newaygo County Families and Community Members, It is with deep concern that I share important news: the State Legislature has eliminated Section 32p funding, which supports our Great Start Collaborative (GSC). Without this funding, the Collaborative will close on December 31, 2025. The GSC has served as the backbone of early childhood coordination—bringing together parents, schools, health and social service agencies, libraries, and community organizations to help families access critical supports and ensure young children enter school ready to succeed. With the GSC Gone, We Will Lose: • A central hub for coordinating referrals, planning, and collaboration among service providers • Infrastructure that supports home visiting (Parents as Teachers), early literacy efforts such as Talking is Teaching, Dolly Parton Imagination Library, free book distribution and early literacy training for child care providers and families, and parent engagement initiatives • The Great Start Family Coalition, which ensures families have voice and influence in early childhood planning • Community events such as Family Expo, Halloween Walk, Santa’s Storybook, Community Story Walks in collaboration with local partners, Play and Learn Groups for families with children birth – 5, book outreach, and other literacy and awareness campaigns • Support network for childcare providers coordination training, Lending Library of resources for both in-home and center providers to increase access to high-quality early learning materials free of charge and appreciation events. While the Collaborative will close, Newaygo County RESA will maintain two essential programs, thanks to local funding from the Fremont Area Community Foundation: • FISH (Families Information Service Hub) • Parents as Teachers (PAT) These programs will continue to provide direct support and home-based engagement for families. Why This Matters Early childhood is a critical period when foundational skills are established. The GSC has not only connected families to resources, but also helped prevent issues before they grow, ensured that support is well-coordinated, and helped avoid duplication of services. Losing it means a more fragmented system and greater burden on families. How You Can Help We encourage you to contact your elected representatives and share the impact losing Section 32p funding will have on children and families in our community. Below is contact information: State Representative Joseph Fox (District 101) • Lansing Office: Anderson House Office Building, S-1385, Lansing, MI 48933 • Mailing Address: P.O. Box 30014, Lansing, MI 48909 • Phone: (517) 373-0825 • Email: [email protected] State Senator Rick Outman (District 33) • Office Address: 201 Townsend St., Suite 4400, Lansing, MI 48933 • Mailing Address: P.O. Box 30036, Lansing, MI 48909-7536 • Phone: (517) 373-3760 • Toll-Free: (855) 347-8033 • Email: [email protected] Your voice matters—especially when our youngest children’s future is at stake! Thank you for standing with us in advocating for Newaygo County’s children and families. Sincerely, Dr. Blake J. Prewitt, Ed.D. Superintendent |
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