When I look at my 21-year-old and my 18-year-old, both standing at the threshold of their adult lives, I feel something I never expected to feel as a parent: a quiet, persistent worry that the America I inherited may not be the America they’ll know.
They work hard. They’re talented. They’re everything parents hope their children will be. Yet when I think about them owning a home, building the kind of financial security that creates true freedom, participating in what we’ve always called the “American Dream,” I wonder if we’ve allowed something fundamental to slip away while we were all busy with our daily lives.
This isn’t about politics. This is about something deeper, something I’ve come to understand only after years of watching, listening, and reflecting on what actually made this country work. And it’s about a conviction that has taken root in my spirit: like Charlie Kirk has said on multiple occasions, “I believe God is not done with America yet.”
That belief sustains me. But it also obligates me.
The Truth Hidden in an Old Story
I never paid much attention to the Pilgrims beyond elementary school pageants. But over Thanksgiving break, I stumbled across Governor William Bradford’s own account of those first desperate years, and it stopped me cold.
These weren’t just settlers struggling with a harsh winter. They were people who nearly destroyed themselves by ignoring a fundamental truth about human nature, a truth that God Himself recognized when He designed how we should live together.
The Pilgrims tried communal living. Everything pooled. Everything shared equally. It sounds noble, even spiritual. But Bradford recorded the devastating reality: they almost starved. Young men resented working to support other families while receiving nothing extra for their effort. The industrious watched the idle receive the same provisions. Experience and wisdom commanded no respect when everyone was “ranked and equalized” regardless of contribution.
Bradford wrote something that reverberates in my soul: the system “abolished those very relations which God himself has set among men.”
When Bradford finally assigned each family their own land, their own property, transformation was immediate. Abundance replaced scarcity. Industry flourished. And here’s what struck me most: prosperity enabled charity. They finally had something they could voluntarily share with others.
This wasn’t theory. This was survival, teaching them what Scripture had already revealed.
In that moment of discovery, I realized I was witnessing a pattern that echoes through all of history: God’s design works. Human attempts to improve upon it fail. Every time.
For too many years, I confused equality with fairness, security with freedom, and government provision with genuine care. I thought being compassionate meant supporting systems that promised to help everyone. I didn’t ask the harder questions: Can you practice charity without ownership? Can you give away what you don’t possess?
The answer is no. And that simple truth unlocks everything.
This realization didn’t come through a book or a sermon, though both played their part. It came through daily intentionality, morning reflections where I asked God to show me truth beyond my assumptions, purposeful study of Scripture that challenged my inherited beliefs, and continuous wrestling with the disconnect between what I’d been taught and what I was witnessing.
Biblical charity, real generosity, requires private ownership. When the early believers in Acts voluntarily sold possessions to help others, the key word is voluntarily. No authority confiscated their property. They chose to give from what was theirs.
When God distributed the Promised Land, He didn’t establish collective ownership. Numbers 26, Numbers 34, Joshua 13-21, the pattern is unmistakable. Each tribe, each clan, each family received their own inheritance. Genuine ownership, passed down through generations.
This is the foundation America was built upon. Not perfect, often betrayed, but foundational, nonetheless. And recognizing this foundation transformed my perspective on everything, from how I view work and wealth to how I’m preparing my children for the world they’re inheriting.
The Threat We’re Not Talking About
Karl Marx’s words from his 1848 Communist Manifesto should chill every American parent: “The theory of the communists can be summed up in a single sentence: Abolition of private property.”
One sentence. And it explains everything we’re watching happening to our children’s generation.
When you abolish private property, whether overtly or gradually through regulation, taxation, and policies that make ownership impossible, you don’t create equality. You create universal poverty. You don’t eliminate greed; you institutionalize it by empowering the state to take what others have earned. You don’t build community; you breed resentment.
The Pilgrims learned this in three years. The Soviet Union took seven decades. Mao’s China. Cuba. Venezuela. The pattern is unbroken.
Yet somehow, we’ve been asleep at the wheel while similar ideas crept into our systems, our policies, our children’s education, dressed in compassionate language about fairness and justice.
I say “we” because I include myself. I was asleep too. Trusting institutions. Assuming things would work out. Believing that the foundations would hold without active protection.
But God has a way of waking us up when we’re willing to see.
My 21-year-old looks at housing prices that have tripled while wages stagnated. My 18-year-old enters a world where business is strangled by regulations, where innovation is punished by taxation, where the very mechanisms that create wealth and opportunity are treated as problems to be solved rather than engines to be protected.
Generation Z faces something their grandparents would have found unimaginable: an America where private property ownership, the cornerstone of prosperity, charity, and freedom, is becoming a privilege of the wealthy rather than the achievable goal of the diligent.
This breaks my heart. Not with despair, but with holy determination.
Because God is not done with America yet. And if that’s true, then He’s not done with this generation either. Which means we, the parents, the mentors, the guardians of what remains, have a sacred responsibility to fight for the foundations that make freedom and flourishing possible.
This isn’t an accident. It’s the natural result of abandoning the three-part foundation that made American prosperity possible:
- Private Property Rights: The security that industry depends on, that makes charity possible, that gives families an economic foundation and a stake in their community’s future.
- Judeo-Christian Biblical Doctrine: The moral framework that makes limited government workable, that elevates voluntary charity over forced redistribution, which recognizes both human dignity and human fallenness.
- An Informed and Faithful Citizenry: People who understand their heritage, who practice self-governance through internal moral constraints, who look to God rather than government as their ultimate security.
When these elements weaken, the entire structure crumbles. And we’re watching it happen.
But watching is no longer enough.
The Question Jesus Asked
The encounter between Jesus and the rich young ruler keeps coming back to me in my morning rituals. The man approached Jesus seeking eternal life, confident in his own goodness. Jesus exposed the truth: the man’s identity was enslaved to his possessions. His wealth owned him.
But here’s what the Spirit has been impressing on my heart: the greater danger isn’t that individuals might be owned by their wealth. It’s that an entire nation might abandon the biblical foundations that made prosperity possible in the first place.
We’re trading the freedom to be charitable for the compulsion to be “equal.” We’re discovering, like the Pilgrims did, that forced equality produces neither prosperity nor genuine care, only poverty and resentment.
The question confronts our generation with urgent clarity: On whom or what do we depend?
If we depend on the state, we will sacrifice freedom. If we depend on material security alone, we will lose our souls. If we depend on systems that promise equality through redistribution, we will inherit only scarcity.
This is the transformative wisdom our generation must recover: true security comes not from government guarantees but from aligning our lives with God’s design. True prosperity flows not from redistribution but from the biblical pattern of ownership, diligence, and voluntary generosity. True freedom requires not external control but internal moral constraint.
The Awakening We Need
I’m writing this because I refuse to watch my children’s generation lose what we were given without a fight. Not a political fight. Something deeper. A spiritual awakening to the foundations that make freedom, prosperity, and genuine charity possible.
If God is not done with America yet, then He’s calling us to wake up. To see clearly. To act courageously.
This awakening must start with spiritual centering, recognizing that the battle for America’s future is first a battle for America’s soul. We cannot restore what we’ve lost through policy alone. We must recover the spiritual depth that made those policies work in the first place.
Margaret Thatcher understood what made America unique: “Your founding fathers came over with that. They came over with the doctrines of the New Testament as well as the Old. They looked after one another, not only as a matter of necessity, but as a matter of duty to their God. There is no other country in the world which started that way.”
John Adams knew the Constitution could only work for “a moral and religious people.” Without internal moral constraints, external controls must fill the void. Without citizens who voluntarily care for the vulnerable, the state will seize resources to do so, and liberty will be lost.
This is where the interconnectedness of personal and professional growth, of private faith and public flourishing, becomes undeniable. We cannot separate our spiritual lives from our economic systems. We cannot divorce biblical principles from political foundations. They are woven together by divine design.
For Parents Who Share This Burden
If you share my concern for your children’s future, if you sense something fundamental slipping away, I believe we must act with both urgency and wisdom.
This isn’t about returning to some imagined perfect past. It’s about recovering the principles that actually work, that align with human nature as God created it, that produce abundance instead of scarcity.
It starts in our homes, with purposeful interactions that prioritize truth over comfort, principle over convenience, long-term foundations over short-term ease.
It continues in our communities, where we build networks of families committed to the same foundations, practicing mutual support without government coercion, demonstrating that voluntary covenant produces stronger bonds than state mandates ever could.
It expands into our civic engagement, where we support leaders who understand these principles and policies that protect them. Not partisan allegiance, but principled conviction.
The Pilgrims discovered through near disaster what Scripture had already revealed: God’s design for human flourishing includes private ownership, voluntary generosity, and moral accountability. Their descendants embedded these principles into a nation’s founding.
The question for our generation is whether we’ll preserve this heritage or watch it dissolve. Whether we’ll fight for the cornerstone of American prosperity or allow it to be replaced with systems that promise equality but deliver only poverty.
I look at my 21-year-old and my 18-year-old, and I see the stakes with painful clarity. They deserve the same opportunity I had: to work hard, own property, build security, and practice genuine charity from a foundation of abundance.
But they won’t have that opportunity unless we, their parents, their generation’s guardians, wake up and act.
Charlie Kirk’s words echo in my spirit: “I believe God is not done with America yet.”
I choose to believe this. Not as wishful thinking, but as prophetic declaration. Not as passive hope, but as active faith that demands corresponding action.
God is not done with America. Which means He’s not done with us. Which means we have work to do.
The American Dream isn’t dead yet. But it’s slipping away, principle by principle, freedom by freedom, opportunity by opportunity.
We can recover it. But only if we understand what we’re fighting for: not just property, but the freedom and flourishing that property makes possible. Not just prosperity, but the moral foundation that sustains it. Not just opportunity for our children, but the preservation of a system that aligns with God’s design for human society.
My Covenant with Them
This is my conviction, forged through reflection and refined by concern for the generation I’m handing the world to. This is my commitment, made before God and witnessed by those I love:
- I will not watch silently while the foundations crumble.
- I will teach truth, even when it’s unpopular.
- I will model stewardship, even when consumption is easier.
- I will fight for freedom, even when security seems safer.
- I will trust God’s design, even when human alternatives seem compassionate.
- I will believe He is not done with America yet, and I will live as though that belief matters.
Because it does matter. Our children are watching. History is watching. And God is watching to see if we’ll preserve what He established or abandon it for systems that promise much but deliver only chains.
The choice is ours. The time is now. The obligation is clear.
This is what I owe my children. This is what we all owe them.
May we have the wisdom to see it and the courage to deliver it.
MindWolves 