A dirge is a very sad song; it’s a lament, a song of mourning. “A Dirge for America” is my effort to depict the sad state of our country; because this is a very sad period in American history. Let’s just recap some of the things that are going on at this hour: we live in a country in which over 56 million babies have been been brutally hacked up, sucked up, and crushed inside the womb to fund an industry that makes more than $400 million dollars a year. This horrific industry is spearheaded by an organization whose executives talk about using ultrasound technology to effectively dismember infants, for the sake of selling their body parts, all while munching on salad and drinking wine. What’s more, we live in a country that responds to such barbary, not with repulsion for the industry altogether, but with squabbles over the particulars of legality. We live in a country whose federal government has the audacity to set itself up as a god; one who has sovereignty over people’s consciences and words. We live in a country that houses the multibillion dollar industry of pornography, which–in addition to its deadening effect on individuals, and the destructive effects it has on relationships–keeps the multibillion dollar industry of sex trafficking alive and well. Our country’s economy literally runs on sin. We live in a country largely comprised of citizens who have put all of their hopes in the false gospel of the sexual revolution; a gospel which is fundamentally destructive, and therefore offers no eschatology. We live in a country that is characterized by obstanince; a country that is so steadfast in our rebellion towards God, that we refuse to let anything be determined by him–including gender. Furthermore, we live in a country that responds to neurological imbalances in the brain with cruelty; a country that thinks it entirely rational to respond to someone’s expressed feelings of being the wrong gender with applause when that person decides to mutilate himself. We live in a country with Huffington post and Miley Cyrus.

The Christian’s response to all of this should be multifaceted. It should include righteous indignation towards injustice, a firm proclamation of the gospel as the only solution to the spiritual bankruptcy this kind of sin is destined to produce, a lovingly clear distinction between sin and righteousness, and between grace and affirmation, a steadfast anticipation for the arrival of King Jesus to make all things new, and sometimes, it should include a stinging criticism.

In addition to all of these responses, the Christian should weep; he should mourn the depravity around him. This song is my feeble effort to do just that.

Come, let’s become prophets
Come, let’s make a profit from our lies
Let’s write ourselves a gospel
Proclaim, “Indulge in lust to fix your lives.”
Let’s kick against the goads
Let’s burn down every throne and become gods
Let’s call every wrong, “right”
Let’s call the day, “the night,” and call it wise

Let’s bank on our delusion
That reality bends its knee to us
We’ll venerate our rebels
We’ll praise the branch that curses its stump

Come let’s fix our hair
Come let’s clean our nails and wear white coats
Without even a flinch
Let’s hack up our babies in their first homes
Let’s close our eyes and cry out,
“Peace! Peace!” when there’s no peace
Let’s sell ourselves to our sin
Enslaved, we’ll insist that we are free

Let’s bank on our delusion
That reality bends its knee to us
We’ll venerate our rebels
We’ll praise the branch that curses its stump

Let us forget our frame
Let’s forget that we are but dust
Let’s scoff at everyone
Who weeps and pleads for our salvation