From The Sheep Pen

I just received and paid my latest credit card statement from Macy’s. I included a letter asking for any additional charges because I am closing my account. Despite a long relationship with the company, I’ll no longer do any business with it. My reasons are the following:

About ten days ago at the store in Boise, I made a purchase. The cashier rang it up and then asked me, “Would you like to round it up… for pride”. I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly. “Round up for what?” I asked. “Gay pride,” she added a little sheepishly. Flabbergasted, I told her, No. The same thing happened at another register with another salesperson. Do you want to round up? No, I do not.

Every floor in the department store had rainbow Gay Pride placards because the month of June has been hijacked as Gay Pride month. I’d seen them. Obviously, someone at the top thinks it is ok to ask customers who don’t think it is ok to step around their marketing propaganda and then brazenly be requested to “round up” to support a contentious political cause I do not support. I left the store angry, disgusted and very aware of the spiritual battle ratcheting up against our Christian faith.

We all are used to businesses asking customers to “round up” to the next dollar for charitable causes: food banks, Jerry’s Kids, breast cancer or local needs. It’s an easy and kind thing to do. But this is different. It is not charity. Read the news. Powerful companies are pushing political agendas abhorrent to Christians. They are threatening not to do commerce in states which are standing against the LBGTXYZ agenda and abortion lobbies. Locally, can we now expect this sneaky ploy by other retailers who are copycatting legitimate charities? Macy’s – and anyone else – are you kidding me?

For me it is a line in the sand. I can’t do more than tell this company good bye. Canceling my account will not make a whit of difference to them. My letter will either irritate or amuse them immensely and end up trashed. But it is something, obedience and perhaps a touch of grit. Two hundred years ago the English statesman Edmund Burke gave a warning.

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.

There is a lot more at stake than nickels and dimes. The persecution of which Jesus warned us is closer than we would like to admit. Satan prowls Boise and looks to McCall and New Meadows as surely as New York and Seattle. By refusing to round up for Gay Pride this month, our enemies will call us bigots, racists, hateful Bible thumping fools. We’re labeled intolerant because we refuse to bend the knee to the god of lies. I am simply astounded at the hypocrisy and wonder what aberration will try to pick our pockets – and our souls- next month?

Jesus warned that we will be hated for our faith because He was and still is hated. We are not above our Master. Our warfare is fought by Christ’s victory and through unceasing prayer. Holy Spirit in us is much, much, very much greater than he who dangles nameless corporate policy makers like marionettes on strings. He will empower us to stand up for good and not cave in to evil. I choose to let go of Macy’s foolishness. It is not so much that I was offended because the Lord tells me I have to forgive my enemy. The offense is against God alone. He is the righteous Judge who will not be mocked much longer by men or corporations.

As for me, when I see evil, I can say, No! And I can write.

A good person leaves an inheritance for their children’s children… Proverbs 13:22

This Father’s Day I honor my husband Dan as the father of our children. I want to thank him for the lifetime which he’s spent taking care of our family no matter what the circumstances and for his selfless concern for those he loves, especially our kids and now our beautiful grand kids.

God never guaranteed that life on planet earth would be a cake walk. We had a lot of years where our family portrait was more like a huge vat of cake batter dropping on our heads. It was very messy and painful, to say the least. I thank God’s grace and the love of Jesus for not only cleaning us up but for giving us a redeemed family.

Through everything, Dan never stopped being the best father he knew how to be. Like other men of his time, he is not very effusive and can seem distant. He is not a touchy-feely person, but in his heart resides a loving father. He respected and loved his own father whom he lost at an early age. That respect shaped how he tried to deal with our children no matter what.

Dan is a man of great integrity. I don’t know of anyone more honest or more generous. He never missed a day at his law office and rarely took time off for himself. On the contrary, he planned a lot of trips with his family. One memorable vacation was in 1986. Dan decided it was time the children saw the good old USA, Gabbert style. So we packed up our old Suburban and traveled the blue highways of this country from California to New York and back again. For six weeks, the kids listened to their Dad explain the geography and history of every point of interest along the way, and how the rivers flowed, especially whenever we crossed the Great Divide which was countless times. How many men and fathers would undertake such a “vacation” with two teenage girls and a rambunctious ten year old son inside a crammed vehicle, let alone have good memories afterwards!

When Lisa competed on swim teams, Dan used to walk up and down the swim lanes cheering her on to “Go, Lisa”! When she decided to go to Georgetown, he sold his beloved Mercedes sports car to pay for her first year there. When Laura rear ended two different cars in high school in the space of half an hour, Dan kept his cool. Mostly. It was after all his birthday! When Chris decided to go to university, he studied law, just like his Dad. He has the same mind which pays attention to details, which can ignore what is irrelevant. Father and son still talk shop on legal cases.

The legacy that Dan passes on to our children is a rich one from the past but it is infinitely richer now. There is no denying that Jesus has made a difference in me and in him. We’ve been given a second chance as parents and grandparents. I believe that Dan, as Dad and Poppi is living witness that God is Father and God is Love!
Happy Father’s Day, Dan!

So teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:12

I had a birthday last month. As I reflected that day, I tweaked some numbers thinking that a different birthday perspective might amuse my grand kids. This year I celebrated 27, 740 days or 665,760 hours or almost 40 million minutes of life. Wow, I think. That’s awesome! God has already given me an extended, long life as it says in Psalms.

Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength endures; Psalm 90:10

As I’m writing, the clock continues to tick off seconds like fine sand pouring through an hourglass. How much of it has funneled downward to the bottom! What’s left is up to the Lord!

It’s sobering to examine my life in terms of days, hours and minutes and then ask: What portion of that time have I spent in God’s Presence? Before I was reborn? Now as a Christian? Even on my very best days worshiping in church, attending prayer groups or praying alone at home, the percentage of time spent in God’s Presence is a pittance compared to time spent otherwise. In the last 24 hours, was it ten, five or one percent? Hmm… Ouch! Numbers don’t lie about one’s actual spiritual commitment. We all long to seek God’s face more, but this side of heaven, the world pulls us away far too easily.

Jesus lived for 33 years. That is approximately 12,045 days, 289,080 hours or 17,344,800 minutes that Jesus walked on earth doing the Father’s will. We know from Scripture that Jesus was always in the Father’s Presence 24/7, whether crushed by crowds, surrounded by disciples or alone on the mountain in prayer. He ministered, healed and taught surrounded by His Father’s presence. In John 8:29 Jesus tells the Jews about His abiding relationship with God.

He who sent Me is with Me. He has not left Me alone, because I always do what pleases Him.”

Jesus was absolutely immersed in the divine Presence of the Father. He knew no other way to be except 100% with God. It is what makes His cry on the cross so utterly heart breaking when for the first time Jesus suffered the void of God’s absence. At the ninth hour on the cross Jesus, who had only known God’s continuous being with Him, was left alone in the abyss of sin. Anguished, He cried out,

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Matthew 27:41

Shouldn’t Jesus’ wrenching words make us cry out to God, “Father, prone as I am to wander, cast me not away from your Presence, and take not your Holy Spirit from me. Teach me to number my days and grant me a heart of wisdom to seek you more and more.”

We all receive years, days and seconds according to the Father’s good pleasure. I don’t want to spend any more sand in the glass apart from the Lord. Like David, I admit, “Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your Presence?” It isn’t too late. It’s never too late. I believe God isn’t done yet but I give Him all the percentages. My remaining days, hours and minutes are to be filled with Jesus in divine Presence. What of you? Can you do the numbers? Will you?

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:5-6

We were in the car going to Boise again. My husband Dan drove while I enjoyed the scenery.How many shades of green there are in spring! Tiny apple green leaves unfurl on trees branches. Early grasses look like plush hillside carpeting. Here at home the pine trees are darker or covered with yellow lichen. Spring elsewhere is a green crayon box freshly opened. This day there was little northbound traffic. We’ve driven Highway 55 so many times that I’m barely conscious of the miles rolling by. Then Dan banked the car around a tight curve as he’s done a thousand times before, safely, keeping the car well under control.

Suddenly, a strong, physical sensation came over me. I knew that I was absolutely safe in the car with Dan, that I was secure while he drove, and in that brief moment, that all was well with my soul. I trust my husband 100% behind the wheel. He has always been an excellent driver, witnessed by the fact that for 50+ years of windshield time and dozens of worn out cars, we’ve had no major accidents. Thank God for such protection and favor! I’m never afraid when Dan drives because over a lifetime of knowing him, I trust what I know. My trust was complete and gave me peace. And then God…

… and lean not on your own understanding;

It was a teachable moment. God knows how difficult it is for me to trust. It doesn’t come naturally or easily. My birth family taught me the opposite: don’t trust others. My father loved me, but he wasn’t open with his children. Sadly, my brothers and I felt neither close to nor protected by him and I never learned to trust anyone else. Distrust became normal.

… in all your ways submit to him,

Through time and trouble, I’ve had to trust the God I did not know. Once I did, His grace became sufficient and changes my heart daily. I believe the Scriptures and I’ve seen miracles in our family life when I trusted God. I believe Jesus because He trusted the Father even to the cross. I believe that God is trustworthy. I really do.

This was different because for the first time I lived trust. It wasn’t a mental concept, idea or abstraction. It was as real as a heart palpitation and it pointed me to God. Trusting Dan behind the wheel is a tiny glimpse reflecting Him who has always been with me. He’s been watching, and protecting me through births and deaths, wars and peace, chaos and restoration. He is and has always been the trustworthy Father to me and my brothers.

… and he will make your paths straight.

If I could trust my life to Dan while encased in a steel box barreling along a curving highway at 60 mph, how much more this God who calls me daughter. And what of you? Today, will you risk allowing God to crush your heart and to trust Him alone? Will you abandon your former fear to run into His shelter? Say “Yes, Father” and I promise you that no blind curve on the road will ever separate you from His divine protection.

Those who are planted in the house of the Lord
Shall flourish in the courts of our God. Psalm 92:13

Psalm 92 is one of my favorite psalms. I love God’s promise that the righteous will flourish like palm trees even to old age. Since I am now there, older at least and, hopefully with God’s grace more righteous in Christ, it tells me that every age can flourish and bear fruit. Flourish is an old fashioned, King James kind of word. Because the psalmist uses it three times, it must be note worthy. Today we might say prosper but flourish means “to thrive, be luxuriant, healthy and vigorous.” Of course I want that! Who wouldn’t?

While pondering this Scripture, I heard a question. “Are you really planted in the house of the Lord?” It was gently asked, but it stung. “Am I really planted in the house of the Lord?”

I’ve been in our church for almost 20 years. Unquestionably, God brought me here. God chose this particular “house of the Lord” for His divine reasons and I’ve remained through many church transitions and personal relationships. I’ve been both blessed and hurt by our church family, but through growth and grief, I’ve stayed, considering myself to be a loyal, faithful member of the house. And yet…

When the Holy Spirit pokes you with a question like that, it’s to strip away illusions. It caused me to look more honestly about where I’m planted in our church. A dear friend likes to say, “as in the natural, so in the supernatural.” For example, ask any gardener about the differences between, say tomato plants, growing directly in rich garden soil versus those growing in a container. Which one needs more babying, more attention, watering, feeding and protection? Which one has greater ability to assimilate nutrients? Which one is the stronger, more flourishing plant at the end of summer? It’s an apt analogy for how Christians may be planted in the church, but never “growing strong as cedars in Lebanon.”

Psalm 92 challenged me. What about you? Planted or potted? Are you deeply rooted in the soils of your local church or are you like me sometimes, in my own little cache pot, growing in my own soil mix, ready to move elsewhere if church doesn’t quite measure up to my standards? To flourish means to “to grow rooted.” If potted, our spiritual roots are confined to the space we occupy and like a root -bound garden plant, we might grow but we’ll never flourish. If our hearts’ are confined inside a planter decorating church ground, we’ll grow guarded hearts, not Christ’s. How can we follow Jesus’ call to preach the Gospel and love others, if we stay pot bound?

Jesus taught the disciples that He is the vine and we are branches.
I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. John 15:5

Church members are not to be separate vines growing in self- watering containers. In fact, Jesus tells something radically different. Disciples flourish only in Jesus because then the Father prunes us to bear much fruit. A potted plant has only its own life to draw upon. Our roots are in Christ and Christ alone.

So I ask. Are you growing in a pretty container or are you unconditionally, if sometimes messily, planted in the local house of the Lord? If potted not planted, allow Holy spirit to shatter the clay and replant you firmly in the good soil of your church.

My brothers and sisters, do not show prejudice if you possess faith in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ. James 2:1

It is May 22, the anniversary when my family arrived in New York as German immigrants. It is also the day before my birthday so the two days are inseparable. I can’t think of the one without the other: my birth on planet Earth and seven years later entering a new life in the United States. Both occurred decades ago so now it seems like ancient history, especially to our grandchildren who don’t know the whole story. Every year I remember this particular part of my life because it is their legacy.

Today my heart is heavy. The country my parents emigrated to is not the same. They came to have a better life, have new opportunities, to work hard and succeed so we, their children, wouldn’t struggle as they had. When I hear people disrespect this country, trash its values and history, and call one another vile names, I wonder, “How did such hatred of the country, anger, irrationality, immorality and unchecked rage happen?” I thought I was paying attention.

Some of the most disturbing developments are the ugly, intensified accusations leveled at anyone who dares to disagree with leftists and liberal, cultural justice warriors. It began years ago when political correctness first appeared. Most people I knew ignored “PC ” as being silly but in a short time, we’ve gone a long way from calling janitors “sanitation engineers.” PC has become a deity and accusations grow like a Hydra head. One of those monstrous heads emerging is labeling someone as a “racist. ” It is an ugly epithet to throw around so readily, so mercilessly. Yes, this country has a dark history of slavery and oppression of black people. There are white supremacist groups and black identity victimization groups and there are those in power who keep the race card alive. No one wants to be called a racist. But the people I know are not racists any more than their accusers.

I know first hand what racism is like. I grew up in it. I know the ugliness of the lie that one nationality or race is so superior to another that their ethnicity, lives, beliefs, religion and ethics are valueless. I know what it is like to judge others because of skin color or language or physical appearance. My family whom I loved fiercely was prejudiced against almost every other nationality and race: Poles, Irish, Italian, Blacks and Puerto Ricans. And of course the Jews. My father and I fought constantly. I refused to listen to him, never won an argument and usually left angry. There is guilt and shame that comes with racism. It was a stressful way to grow up. On the other hand, I never took the time to understand why my father and others believed what they did. I hated their racism so much it kept me from loving relationships. Recently, I’ve written a memoir for ourchildren/grandchildren so that they will know the truth.

This is why today as I remember coming to the United States with my parents, I write about racism. The Lord brought me through my past. Jesus redeemed it so that my family would not repeat the lie. God sees our hearts. He does not judge us by the color of skin. God created us in His image and likeness and wasn’t it He who gave humans different skin pigmentation? He gave us ethnicity and placed us in different nations. As followers of the Lord Jesus, there is no allowance for any racism and prejudice. We are all one in Christ. We are to love our neighbors as ourselves, and especially our enemies. The Creator of the Universe must despise the sin of racism, but I also believe He is not pleased by the nasty racist labels being thrown around like poison darts.

Do not ever call me a racist. Do ask me, however, to have a conversation. I’d love to share my testimony.

Be still and know that He is God. Psalm 46:10

I was stopped at yet another construction zone. The light signaling us to proceed to a single lane of traffic had just turned red two cars ahead of me. The first car sneaked through but I was stuck there for a while. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be longer than five minutes.

It was raining slightly, a soft, grey drizzle which rolled down the windshield and dripped onto the hood of my Honda. The truck in front of me had Washington plates and was still running its engine while I amused myself reading the stickers decorating the back of the truck, looking for clues about the driver’s travels or interests. Most were business ads and not terribly intriguing.

We were alongside a curve of the river which was edged by tall thickets wet with rain. Spring leaves had filled out the branches so it was like looking through a dense green tunnel. Suddenly, two small yellow birds with black streaked wings flew out of the shrubs and straight past my window. Something had startled a pair off goldfinches. One bird kept flying past; the other turned back into the trees and disappeared. I looked for him but he was camouflaged too well in the yellow – green foliage.

Now it was just a small, brief incident, but it felt like gift. I always love watching birds and sighting goldfinches is a rarity. God’s beauty is all around us, but too often we’re mindful of Him only when we have to stop and be still. It reminded me of something I learned in a poetry class. A writing assignment was to begin a poem with this line, “Had I not…,” and finish out the thought. The awareness of cause and effect – and timing – is profound for I believe nothing in God’s world is coincidental. We choose to do something or not do it and eventually see that consequences do follow those choices. In my life, there are concrete benchmarks where I definitely see that my “Had I not…” allowed the Hand of God to work in that moment.

How wondrous is finding God’s Presence not only in dramatic, life changing milestones but especially in seemingly ordinary, inconsequential moments – like waiting at a red light.

Had I not stopped in late afternoon
along the river framed by spring trees
waiting for the light to change and send me home;
Had I not glanced to my left into the rain soaked trees
and fiddled with my phone, checking texts
from no one, messaging empty words,
I would have missed the flight
of two gold finches bursting from the brush,
winging toward my heart;
Had I not paused in time and space
I would have missed the gift
of knowing He is God
and thanking Him with this prayer.

The moment passed. The light turned green but as I started my car, I noticed again one of the decals on the truck ahead of me. It said, “Rainbird.” I laughed all the way home!

We were in the Chicago airport on our way back home after a week in the so aptly name “Windy City.” We’d attended a wedding for Dan’s great niece and afterward spent four days in downtown Chicago getting our Big City Fix. It was fun to go to museums, use public transportation, try out ethnic restaurants and people watch as we walked from the hotel for hours. But I was ready to come home. The weather was contrary to say the least: 6 inches of snow during the wedding and just plain Chicago cold the whole time. I’d thrown a light parka into my suitcase at the last minute and I never took it off! Over layers of sweatshirts. Oh, and did I mention the miles of snarled traffic? New Meadows is an oasis in comparison.

After hiking through two endless terminals at O’Hare airport to get to our gate, we sat down to eat something before our flight. The cafe was crowded with small tables practically bumping up to each other. Two men sat down next to us. The one closest to me had sparse, spiked hair, earrings, tattoos and wore a choker necklace. His face was sallow and thin with sharply defined features. His companion looked more ordinary, like our Illinois nephews. I assumed they were partners. Dan later said he thought so too. While we ate, they began to chat with us. How was the food? Where had we been? Where were we going?

Now Chicago being what it is, my cautious husband was reticent and didn’t engage with them. I was less guarded and offered my French fries across the tables since the service was slow. We were very wrong about them. Gil, the spiky haired man, was in Chicago for his fourth or fifth round of cancer treatment at Cancer Center of America. Remy, his brother-in-law accompanied him for support during the week of treatment. As they spoke about the care, length and costs of his treatments, Gil still seemed hopeful. I listened to the long list of surgeries he’d had and still faced, hoping my face didn’t register dismay.

Then, I sensed God’s familiar nudge. “Oh, no,” I lamented. “Not here in public. It’s crowded. They’re strangers. They might get offended.” It was no use. After Dan left to check on the plane’s status, I turned to Gil. “Uh, this may seems a bit strange and I, umm, don’t want to seem weird, but , umm, I pray for people, especially for those with cancer. Can I pray for you?” His face broke out in a big smile. Sure, he said. “A lot of people have been praying for me.”

I took his hands and prayed for his healing, but have no idea what I said. It certainly wasn’t eloquent but that didn’t matter. The moment was from God’s heart to the heart of this stranger. As I left the table, I heard Remy say, “Wasn’t that nice of her!” Gil and Remy had no idea how they blessed me instead.

The Lord had actually been working on me the whole time. I feared praying in public, but privately didn’t have any problem judging their life style. I feared offending someone by praying, yet how much worse would the offense have been to ignore this man’s need for healing. On my own, fear would have hogtied me from reaching out, but with Holy Spirit, all things are possible. Gil and Remy were strangers only for as along as I chose to keep them at arms’ length. It was God’s touch at O’Hare airport for them – and for me.

Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none. William Shakespeare

Today is Valentine’s Day. Thus, it seems fitting that I would write about love again. After all, today is all about showing love to someone special. All the local stores display endless shelves of candy, sweets, fresh flowers, chocolate dipped strawberries, etc, etc, enticing one to spend a little extra for our sweethearts. My hubby gave me a sweet min rose bush loaded with of tiny red buds . He knows me so well ! It couldn’t be more perfect on this grey, dreary February 14. My brother who works at Kennedy airport in New York as an agricultural inspector says Valentine’s Day, second only to Mother’s Day, becomes a madhouse for all the workers unloading tons of shipped flowers. I wonder if my red roses came from there?

However, Valentine’s Day has little connection to love. It’s origin is murky but the history of February 14th is far removed from pudgy cupids shooting love arrows and flower bedecked Victorian children sending out heart shaped kisses There were possibly two different Valentines connected to the day. Supposedly, both were beheaded for preaching Christianity by the emperor Claudius in the third century on February 14th. The Church incorporated that date into its liturgical calendar and included St. Valentine as a martyr of the faith. It was not until the thirteenth century that love became associated with Valentine when Geoffrey Chaucer did so. Again, much later Shakespeare popularized the idea. (For a more thorough history of t Valentine’s Day, you might enjoy reading the Smithsonian’s website https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/gory-origins-valentines-day-180968156/ )

Over hundreds of years, Valentine’s Day has evolved into its present overly hyped and commercialized holiday. But then who doesn’t like sentiment? I am a poet at heart and found many poetic and sappy verses extolling love and lovers. My favorite right now is this one from Dr. Seuss:
You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.

There is another verse in the Bible which touches my yearning heart even more than Dan’s lovely gift of flowers. It is not the only Scripture about love for all of the Bible is really about God’s loving heart toward us. John tells us the true reason why we can love one another.
We love because he first loved us. John 4:19

It is not about an ancient tradition, liturgical practices or even great writing. It’s not about one holiday a year. It’s not about sentiment. It is not about things we purchase but about the one who purchased us. It is about the person of Jesus who first loved us into Love itself. What can possibly be more extraordinary than that!

…Jesus answered him, ‘It is as you say.’ Matthew 27:11

Our country is in the throes of such political and social upheaval I’m finding it painful to remain an informed citizen. From news which is downright evil and disgusting to contradictory, confusing and untrustworthy information doled out daily, what is one to think any more? Some of my friends can’t turn off the news and listen 24/7; others refuse to listen at all. But neither being a news junkie nor becoming an ostrich buried in sand can solve our worsening dilemmas. The problems are moral ones and the only solutions are moral.

We need a king!

Such a statement seems ludicrous to 21st century Americans. Our country was founded in rejection of monarchy and on the principles of liberty and justice for all men. Despite opposing arguments about “freedom” or huffy offense at my remarks, I believe in both freedom and the need for a king. Social media warriors may not approve my solution, but they can’t find me. I’m not on their radar. Actually, I’d relish any firestorm which leads to conversation about Christ.

For of course I write about Jesus. He is the King we need desperately. I’m speaking of Jesus’ kingdom and His rule within our rebellious hearts which defy God Himself, much like Israel did in the Old Testament.
… But they have rejected Me, that I should not reign over them. 1. Samuel 8:7

The king we need is not of this world and certainly not political. This king reigns in God’s kingdom who has given Him all authority over heaven and earth. His kingship is not dependent on civilized processes or violent revolutions.
Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not of this world; if it were, My servants would fight to prevent My arrest by the Jews. But now, My kingdom is not of this realm.” John 18:36 And again…
… the kingdom of God is within you. Luke 17:21

It is God’s kingdom and the only way into it is by being reborn, not of flesh but of the Spirit.
Jesus answered, “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit. John 3: 5

There is a dangerous, false idea about “the kingdom being within you” which is fed by Gnosticism and currently advocates universal salvation for all people. Jesus never taught that we’re to set up our own personal empires, enthroning ourselves. That is the way the world operates and the resulting chaos is a growing disastrous tsunami. When God and His Son are rejected, it is every king and kingdom for itself. Jesus’ kingdom is of God who is divine, eternal and holy and Jesus alone is king thereof. All others are not. We should be warned.

Before His crucifixion, Jesus stood before His own people while Pilate offered an exchange: Jesus for Barabbas a murderer.
And Pilate said to the Jews, “Here is your King!” At this, they shouted, “Away with Him! Away with Him! Crucify Him!” “Shall I crucify your King?” Pilate asked. “We have no king but Caesar,” replied the chief priests. John 27:21-22

It is still the same choice. It is either Jesus, Prince of Peace, the eternal King who died for sinners and offers His kingdom to those who accept Him – or becoming subjects of the realm of the world, the flesh and the devil. It’s either Jesus on the throne or imperialistic, soulish Caesars who have usurped Him.