I’ve been a die hard Republican for almost as long as I can remember. And that works because I conveniently forget that time in grammar school  that I somehow supported Dukakis by knocking down Bush Sr. signs.

I believe in trickle down economics. I believe that if you cut taxes people and companies spend more. I philosophically believe that cutting taxes and regulations for businesses means more janitors are hired at the bottom. I believe that the poor should work and not get a hand out. Hand up not hand out and all that jazz.

I believe in the sovereignty of America. I think the borders should be closed and illegals deported. I think, I think, I believe, I believe.

It’s fairly easy to think and believe. It doesn’t really require that I do anything. I just have to sit in my cozy house, thinking and believing…

Thinking about the border issue, I wondered why I want closed borders. Why, is it important. Of course the terrorism threat is a big deal, so that’s one. What’s two? Jesus, what’s two? And I realize that Jesus really wouldn’t care that my tax dollars are going to pay for an illegal immigrants education or healthcare. In fact, He may even think that works for Him. He told me to “give to anyone who asks.” No qualifications there, just…give.

I suppose He might take umbrage with the illegal that is breaking the law but that is an issue between Him and them. My issue is one of taxes and borders, and ultimately, love.

The federal government must help people out because those who are supposed to aren’t. That should be our job, the church. WE are the ones commanded to give. WE are the ones commanded to love. WE are the ones commanded to lay down our lives.

I think that we even feel like we are obeying Jesus when we give above our tithes to a “good cause” at church. But the reality is, we are passing by the wounded traveler, perhaps to send help once we get to town, but passing by all the same. We’ve gotten so good at giving that which costs us little. We’ve gotten good at staying removed and clean.

But my salvation cost a lot. I had a debt I couldn’t pay and was released from the slavery I deserved. My freedom cost a lot.

Shouldn’t I give a lot?

Or, shouldn’t I give what costs a lot?

Maybe it’s money. Maybe it’s time. Maybe it’s pride, something I should have given away a long time ago but, like a bad gift, it keeps coming back. Maybe it’s my Republicanism. Whatever it is, it should cost me.

What cost me a lot?

a.