We’re ending 2025 with a bang… We have foreign nationals and their leftist allies rising up against American law enforcement and immigration. We have Islamists in our federal government making threats against the American people. We have anti-American and anti-Christian sentiment at its highest levels ever in this nation. And, of course, the modern sexual revolution is in full swing.

But as this cursed year gasps its last, the revolution unleashes yet another abomination, parading it before a numb nation as if it were progress. Behold the spectacle. A man, dolled up in the mockery of womanhood—braided hair, painted face, false lashes fluttering like a harlot’s veil—reclining in a hospital bed, play-acting the sacred role of a mother as a newborn infant, fresh from a rented womb, is thrust upon his chest.

This is no mere eccentricity. It is a blatant perversion of God’s design, where a surrogate—another woman commodified and discarded like chattel—bears the child for hire, only for this pretender to ape the postpartum bond, skin to skin, as if his barren frame could nourish or nurture.

The video, circulating like poison on social media, captures the infant’s cries, a plaintive wail against the unnatural, while the man coos and poses, stealing the glory reserved for the one who labored and bled.

How ungodly is this, that we, as a nation, are not in the streets livid over this? Where is the righteous fury that once toppled idols and purged the land? This is child abuse cloaked in compassion, a direct assault on the divine ordinance:

“So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them” (Genesis 1:27).

To disregard the Creator is to spit in His face, inviting the judgment Paul warned of in Romans 1, where men and women, suppressing the truth in unrighteousness, are given over to vile affections and a reprobate mind. Surrogacy itself is a mercenary trade in human life, treating babes as merchandise, but to compound it with this cross-dressing charade—mimicking the mother’s sacred recovery, her God-given role in bonding and feeding—is to mock the very order of creation.

This child, ripped from the womb’s familiar rhythm, is denied the mother’s heartbeat, her milk, her essence, and handed to a fraud who cannot provide what nature demands. This is not family. It is Frankenstein’s folly, pieced together in defiance of the Lord who knits us in the womb.

And yet, the streets are silent. The churches murmur platitudes of “love” while the wolves feast. The media spins it as “inclusion,” the courts enshrine it as “rights,” and the masses scroll past, desensitized by the steady drip of perversion from billboards to bedrooms.

Why no outrage?
Because the revolution has seared consciences, as foretold:

“Now the Spirit expressly says that in later times some will depart from the faith by devoting themselves to deceitful spirits and teachings of demons, through the insincerity of liars whose consciences are seared” (1 Timothy 4:1-2).

We’ve traded the fear of God for the fear of man, bowing to the rainbow tyrants lest we be labeled “bigots” by those who redefine sin as virtue.

Parents, this is the world we’re bequeathing our children—a cauldron of chaos where foreign invaders mock our laws, Islamists plot from within, hatred for Christ boils over, and the sexual revolution devours the innocent. We must arm our young ones with the sword of the Spirit, teaching them to discern the lie: that no man can become a woman, no surrogate scheme can supplant God’s family order, no rebellion against creation goes unpunished.

Demolish these high things exalted against the knowledge of God (2 Corinthians 10:5), rooting out the evolutionist rot that reduces us to beasts fit for experimentation. Show them that true life is submission to Christ, not self-invention, for “whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 10:39).

The pendulum swings wilder still, but our anchor holds. We must prepare our children not for compromise, but for conquest in the name of the King who will shatter every idol. To live is Christ. To die is gain. Rise, then, and rage against the dying of the light—or watch the darkness swallow the next generation whole.