Phil Vischer, Veggie Tales, and the Nuance of Abortion

I know I am a rebel here, but Veggie Tales was a pontification in silliness. For a series of evangelical cliches, the show provided an enormous amount of basic morality without the ethos of Jael. That show and a series of other unfortunate events in the sterilization of the evangelical mind provided the stimulation for an unobjective Christendom among young evangelicals where everything is up for debate and dogma becomes heretical.

Phil Vischer–the storyteller behind Veggie Tales–has emerged as the most vocal proponent of what I have called, “sophisticated footnoting.” He thrives in nuances and caveats and oh! the complexities of this whole darn thing of abortion.

Think about it: these last two years have been the most magnified sight into the devious and devilish devices of Democrat powers and evan-gelly leaders. They have sought to endanger our health, history, and hope. They have tortured the American conscience by putting friends against friends at the Thanksgiving table; they have filled the cup of wrath by instilling fear as a commodity and currency. Democrats–both pagans and Bud-Light evangelical varieties–offer misery and betrayal to morality and classical mores and yet, Phil, wants to find common ground.

There is no way–unless one pushes the gymnastic hermeneutic really far–to see Vischer’s tweets as nothing more than outrageous attempts to build Babel on the broken and rotten wood of Genesis 11. And speaking of that, what’s Vischer’s view on Genesis 1-2? I am not superstitious, but I am stitious about his paradigm.

This was the year that leftists argued that children ought to obey their masters even though they stifle our speech, our humanity, and our bodies through mandates and madness. The sad reality is that there are wolves within the body propagating such things as well.

But God loves to shock us back into hope. He works with broken vessels to achieve the good. Roe will be gutted and we should be hopeful to move deeper into 2022 to see states even now not taking the veggie trays of Vischer, but the full platter of goodness, truth, and beauty. We should always be hopeful in season and out of season. But it seems that certain seasons offer some divine comedy, and I hope to see God’s humor thrive over the affairs of men.

We are somewhat naive to think we can operate on the basis of Benedictine order when the public square is ripe for harvesting. God is perfect, but he is not a perfectionist, as Doug Wilson once stated. Purists live in monasteries, and as a Protestant, me-no-can-do.

We need more Bonifaces to shatter the wisdom of this world and break a few extra tables. Christians should see the long game and see every win as a movement of mustard seeds being planted in our society. The kingdom grows slowly, which does not mean–for the ideologues–that we lose slowly, but that we move slowly like parabolic plants, leavening the whole world.