This morning I woke up early. It wasn’t all that early for me. I am an early riser. But today was different. I had been gone for a few days. My wife had been gone, too. We both went to bed last night at different times – exhausted. We both woke up this morning early. It gave us time to lay there in each others arms and talk about the last few days. It is one of the single-most blessings I love about being married – waking up with my wife in my arms.

She had taken the church youth group to King’s Dominion. It is an amusement park a couple of hours south of DC where the weekend was to be “King’s Fest” headlining Casting Crowns, Toby Mac, and others. I had taken my son to DC to watch the fireworks and explore museums for a couple of days. My wife and I compared notes, shared stories, and marveled at how God had touched each of us over the past few days.

She got up to do her Kumdo workout. She hopes to test for her black belt in the fall. I decided to take a walk to the beach. The boys were both still sleeping (daughter is at King’s Fest), so I took our Chesapeake Bay Retriever with me. We call him Bay. It was still cool. The sun wasn’t high in the sky yet. We live about 200 yards off the Chesapeake Bay, but it is about a half mile to walk to the nearest beach area. Getting there is pretty easy. Mostly dirt roads and all down hill. Bay is still a puppy at seven months old, and when he gets close to the water he gets so excited.

We get to the other side of the dock. I make Bay sit. Every muscle in his body is quivering. This is what he is bred to do and he wants to go do it. I am never sure what “this” is, but he knows it has to do with the water. I take off his leash and whisper “Go!” into his ear and he is off running in the water splashing and barking. Like a kid playing in the waves, Bay enjoys the morning in the Chesapeake.

I pick up a stick and throw it as hard as I can. He jumps in the water and goes to get it. I never taught him to do this. He just does it. That is the way he is. It is part of him. It is in his blood. He brings it back and drops it at my feet. I pick it up and say “again” and throw it as hard as I can. He swims after it again. I watch as he does it with everything there is inside of him. He thinks of nothing else except retrieving that stick for me. This is what he is bred to do and he does it with all his heart. This routine – me throwing, him bringing – continues until I am too tired to throw. Then Bay gives me a break and runs full throttle up and down the beach. After a few laps, guess what? “Again!”

While playing with Bay I think back over the past couple of days I spent in DC. My son and I visited the Holocaust Museum. I had never been there before. It was…terrifying, gripping, daunting, horrifying, shameful, and overwhelming. Way too many emotions to deal with in one afternoon, so I shut them off. Now, little by little, I relive what I saw. This morning, while on the beach, one thought comes to mind. How can anybody justify what they did? Someone suggested one answer and that is that the Nazis convinced themselves that the Jews were less than human. There is no other way I can fathom man’s inhumanity to man. I cannot imagine how a person could think to do the things they did. One example I will give here (there are many and this is tame compared to most) was that they would put people in pressure chambers to see how long they could live in low pressures. This was done, according to the journals, so they could understand what the Nazi pilots could endure before damaging themselves. They had films of people in the chambers as the pressure was reduced. Horrible. Terrible. Overwhelming.

This morning as I walked along the beach, I thought. Is that an example of what is really inside of man? Is this what my heart is capable of? I watch as Bay swims out to retrieve another throw. "This" is what is inside of him. Is what is naturally inside of me different than what was at the core of the Nazi actions?

The scripture tells us that the heart is wicked beyond all things. I know I can hate, but can I hate that much? I know I can do evil, but can I be that evil?

I thank God that we have documented in the Holocaust Museum a record of how evil man can be. I thank God that we can now show this record to others so that it will be known. I pray that we never have to face such evil again. I wonder if the evil we see today is any different. The Islamists desire that all nonmuslims be destroyed. In some countries, like Sudan, they are killing a people they consider lesser by starving them, cutting off their water supply so their crops die, and not giving them medical attention. Is this any different than what happened in Germany? I think not. So I pray for wisdom. We have been given this great trust in our natural resources, our abilities, our wealth. Lord, give us wisdom to know how to use this trust to prevent the systematic inhumanity we saw almost 100 years ago and that we see today. Give us hope. If what we, as a county, are doing in the Middle East is the answer, then give us the strength to stay the course. If it isn’t the answer, then, God, please give us understanding. As Christians, we cannot stand by and watch this happen again.

We stop on the way home and I pick some ripe raspberries. That is one of the things I love about southern Maryland. Raspberries. They are all over. They grow wild and are there for the picking. I pick a bunch without any intention of sharing. This morning, they are my morning snack. Bay sits obediently as I pick them and give God thanks. His provision is mighty. His trust significant. His love unending. As we walk home a little of Him rubs off on me as a little of me rubs off on Bay. Our natures change to become slightly more like our Master.

Copyright 2007, Larry Reagan