By DAVID EPPS
Pastor

Once upon a time, in a fairy-tale land far, far away, I believed in the inherent goodness of government. I believed that civic-minded citizens, wishing to contribute their skills and talents for the common welfare and benefit of all, offered themselves for public office and, once elected, operated with the highest of motives and with civility and consideration for all the citizenry.

My father-in-law, John Douglas, was that kind of man. The son of a car salesman in north Florida, John put himself through the University of Florida and became an engineer. He served as an officer for a few years in the Air Force then went to work. Over time, he moved up the corporate ladder.

John was a devout Baptist believer and a dedicated family man. He was a good man, an honorable man, with a love for his community. Later in his life, John, now a vice-president for Eastman Chemical Products, an industry that employed some 15,000 workers in east Tennessee, ran for the Board of Mayor and Aldermen in Kingsport. He won, served the one term he had promised to serve, and exited the political scene.

Many, many times people would say to me, “I wish that John had run for reelection. He had no personal agenda and would always listen to the issues before he voiced and voted his conscience.”

John's telephone at his home rang continuously during his four-year term as he made himself available to the citizens of the community day or night. He never asked if they voted for him before he would take their call or listen to their cause. He believed that all the citizens had a right to be heard. Why, he even believed that he, an alderman, worked for the citizens! His example helped me to believe in the fairy tale.

A few years ago, a new state senator was elected to serve the people of the area where I live. About nine weeks after she assumed office, I wrote her a postcard which said something like this: “ Dear Senator, I would be most appreciative if you would consider voting for pro-life legislation during the current legislative session. Sincerely, W. D. Epps.”

I sent the message on a postcard provided by a Roman Catholic pro-life organization which featured a trash bin full of the bodies of aborted babies. Within a few days, I received an angry reply from the senator who castigated me for the photograph on the postcard, informed me that I obviously did not know how to deal with someone of great importance such as herself, and hinted at reprisals.

I thought the whole thing was an over reaction until, a few days later, I saw the headline of the local newspaper that read: “REVEREND EPPS UNDER FEDERAL INVESTIGATION.” My heart jumped into my throat and I could feel my temples pounding as my head began to swim.

With trembling hands, I purchased the newspaper and read that my postcard had been turned over to the federal postal inspectors for investigation. The possible charge? Use of the United States mail system for the unlawful distribution of child pornography. Why such an allegation? Some of the dead babies in the trash can were naked.

I was being investigated for child pornography because I had written my state senator on a post card that featured dead children whose lives had been terminated in an abortion clinic and whose bodies had been dumped in a garbage can. If indicted and convicted, I could spend at least three years in a federal prison. The fairy tale was over.

A public outcry ensued. Hundreds of people wrote letters and made telephone calls as I prayed and prepared for jail. My life stopped and time stood still. Eventually, the postal inspector assigned to the case determined that I was lawfully exercising my rights under the First Amendment and ceased the investigation.

He confided to me, “The only reason we even gave this any consideration is because the person making the allegation was a politician. I'm sorry you had to go through this.”

It was weeks before I slept soundly again. For months afterward, my children continued to be asked by classmates if their father was a child pornographer. My own small children asked me if I would have to go to jail. For months, people who recognized me as they passed by stared and mentally made their silent conclusions about my character.

The senator served one two-year term and was driven from office. Dozens of people in her own political party confided that, while they themselves were pro-abortion, they had voted against the senator because of, in their view, her blatant attempt to restrict me of my rights under the First Amendment. The senator discovered, all too late, that the people who truly counted were the citizens — not the politicians. When the politicians cease to serve the people, when they refuse to heed the voice of the common man or woman, it is time to remove them from their responsibilities.

I am not antigovernment. To me, government is like an ax. An ax can fell a tree for shelter, can make firewood for warmth, and can even form ice into a beautiful sculpture. But an ax can also kill, and maim, and destroy.

But an ax is only a tool. In the right hands the ax is a great implement. In the wrong hands, an ax can bring fear and destruction.

Government is like that ax. Government is just a tool ... it is capable of great good or great harm. Like the ax, government is neither good nor bad. You just need to keep a careful eye on the one who holds it in their hand. [Father David Epps is rector of Christ the King Church in Peachtree City. He can be contacted at FatherDavidEpps@aol.com or at www.ChristTheKingCEC.com.]

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