Low Voltage Atheist

Recently, I was unsuccessful in an attempt to surf the web for a particular article by George Will. I did, however, run across a question someone posted concerning his religious affiliations. As it turns out, he is a self-described “amiable, low voltage atheist.” I was a tad surprised to hear that, but it got me to thinking about my own atheistic friends.

I asked myself this question. Are they George Will types? In other words, are they amiable, low voltage atheists? To answer that, I first had to arrive at some sort of definition for the phrase. It was not particularly easy, but here goes.

Does God Exist?

If I understand Will correctly, his form of atheism is grounded in his conservative world view. He does not ask the question, “Does God exist?” Rather, he asks, “Why does anything exist?” That, in itself, is an intriguing query. It’s one that prompts many of us to answer, “God.” Things exist because of God.

Will says this answer has no hold on him. Yet, as a conservative, he subscribes to William F. Buckley’s thinking that, “A conservative need not be religious, but he cannot despise religion.” He says he has a deep respect for religion as well as deeply religious people (he’s actually married to one). He has been quoted as saying, “The great religions reflect something constant and noble in the human character, defensible and admirable yearnings. I am just not persuaded. That’s all.”

Getting back to my own friends who hold that there is no God, I guess I have a hard time contrasting them against the prism of George Will’s amiable, low voltage atheism. Unless one could plumb the depths of their psyche, they seem almost impossible to analyze—as it is with anyone’s deeply held beliefs. Still, I try.

Faith in Some Deity

It seems to me that my godless associates in life tend to run the gamut. I suspect that at least one or two of them would, indeed, fit the Will mold. They respect those of us who are, in fact, believers. They just don’t buy into it themselves. Some even see the benefit of a society that is grounded by a faith in some deity or another.

On the other end of the spectrum, there are those who think we religious sorts are the bane of society. We hold them back from the greater freedoms in life. From my perspective, I tend to agree with Jesus on this point. He said, “You are the salt of the earth.” The understanding is that salt, particularly in Jesus’ day, was a preservative. Without salt, things went bad. It is my view that, if we religious types weren’t around, things would go to hell in a handbasket.

I know many of my nihilist friends probably scoff at such a theory. They think religion is retrograde. But I suspect there are some who have a tendency to agree with me—even if they don’t believe in a supreme being. They are amiable and low voltage atheists.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and currently resides in Aldie, VA.]

Breaking Awful

For the past few years, people have suggested I watch a TV series that ended in 2013. As you probably know, this is now possible through the magic of streaming. Many of us—and probably you as well—have been known to get hooked on old shows that we never saw (or that we want to see again). Services like Netflix and Hulu make it all possible.

Because of these wonderful little inventions, binge-watching entire series has become a thing. I’ve been known to get caught up in such trivialities from time to time when I come across a show that captures my imagination. And now, it has occurred once again.

Terminal Cancer

The series I mentioned in my opening line is Breaking Bad. In case you haven’t seen it, it entails the story of a high school chemistry teacher who discovers he has terminal cancer and decides to “cook” meth to make money for his treatment and secure his family’s future. Well, one thing leads to another and he becomes a major criminal.

The thing about this five-year series is that each episode ends with a cliffhanger of a scene. It’s tough to turn off the set until you’ve seen how it turns out. Then, of course, the next episode ends up being another cliffhanger. It’s almost like getting addicted to drugs. It’s tough to quit.

Walter, the main character, starts off as a rather likable guy—sort of meek and mild—a brainy family man who gets clobbered by a tough break. You have to feel sorry for him—even when he begins to cook methamphetamines. You know that he’s helping to ruin lives by supplying all the meth-heads in the neighborhood. Still, it seems like a good cause.

Deeper and Deeper

Of course, he keeps getting in deeper and deeper. As time goes on, more and more lives are ruined, his family is put in danger, and people die—lots of people. Spoiler Alert! On more than one occasion, he personally commits murder. He ends up being a monster of sorts.

The thing about watching this show is that I still root for him to get away with everything. As vile and immoral as he becomes, I still can’t help feeling sorry for the guy. He’s one of those hero/anti-hero types. I’m conflicted and compromised.

This is not the only show like this, of course. I’ve seen several of them in the past few years. One thing they’re good for—aside from the entertainment—is the way they portray the evil that resides in each of us. 

These days, a lot of humanists keep telling us that people are basically good. If you’re a Christian and have paid attention to your own theology, you know this not to be true. Humanity is basically evil, and it doesn’t take much for us to get lost in our own sinfulness. We are a people in need of a Savior. Walter is one of us. I guess that’s why I still root for him. 

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and currently resides in Aldie, VA.]

Quiet Lives

The Apostle Paul once wrote to his son in the faith, Timothy, strongly implying that we should live “peaceful and quiet lives.” I have to say, I’m all for that. Peaceful and quiet is right up my alley. The older I get, the more I enjoy that kind of life.

To put it in context, Paul told Timothy to pray for those in authority indicating that the by-product of such prayer would be peace and tranquility. We know he was speaking of governmental authority because he mentioned kings. His assumption, I suppose, was that, if it went well for the king, it would also go well for the king’s subjects.

Ga-Ga Over St. Paul

This seems to indicate that Paul had a somewhat positive view of kings and others in authority. He certainly believed that God put those governmental figures in place and that he did it for our own good (see Romans 13:1-5). This is one of the many reasons a lot of folks aren’t exactly ga-ga over the teachings of St. Paul. Remember—he’s also the one who told women not to wear gold or pearls and to shut up and have children. I’m probably overstating that a bit, but not by much. But, as they say, I digress.

So, we are to pray for those in authority that we might live peaceful and quiet lives. I wish he would have added something about voting for solid, godly authoritarians—people who had our best interests at heart. I will give him the benefit of the doubt on that point because there wasn’t a whole lot of voting going on in the time of Paul. It probably never even crossed his mind that the hoi polloi would be electing their own leaders one day. After all, history showed him that people weren’t particularly good at choosing leaders. Remember that his namesake (Saul) was chosen among his people to be the first King of Israel. That, of course, didn’t go so well. They were better off without him.


Unfortunately, we in the United States seem to be following in the footsteps of those early Israelites. We are constantly electing leaders that tend to give us heartburn. It doesn’t matter what party we opt to place in power (usually it’s a hodgepodge of parties), we end up with more chaos than quiet. So much for living peaceful lives.

I can only surmise that Paul never foresaw a time when we would choose our own Mayors, Senators, and Representatives, et. al. If God was placing these politicians into their respective offices, at least we could blame him. As it is, we can only blame ourselves. And if we could choose a king, I highly doubt as to whether we would do much of a better job than the Hebrews. They begged God for a king. They ended up with Saul who was tall, dark, and handsome (1 Samuel 9:1-2). These are criteria not unlike the ones we seem to use today. Oy vey!

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and currently resides in Aldie, VA.]

Maintaining Happiness

It was recently announced by Bloomberg that Bill Gates (Microsoft Co-founder) has retaken the title as richest person in the world. He rings in at a cool $110 billion beating Jeff Bezos by $1.3 billion. If money could buy happiness, I suppose these two would be the most joyful creatures on the planet. That has not been determined, so I suppose it’s all up for grabs.

I’m not sure about Bezos, but Gates has revealed his formula for happiness. He says he’s far happier now at 64 than he was at 25 (why 25, I’m not sure). Apparently, it doesn’t have much to do with the money.

Four Things

He lists four things that help him maintain his happy existence. They are as follows. “1) Follow through on your commitments. 2) Have a mindset of giving. 3) Treat your body like a sacred temple. 4) Put family first.”

As I read through them, it hit me how Scriptural each of these things happens to be. I guess it’s not so surprising to me that these things make for a more contented life. I was, however, mildly surprised that Bill Gates was the source of this list. He has indicated that he and his family are participants in a local church, but he seems to emphasize ethics and morality far more than the spiritual aspect of the faith.

I don’t know how much of his philosophy of life he’s gleaned from the Bible, but I’m guessing he’s gained a lot by osmosis over the years. That is to say, even if he’s not a believer in Christ, he’s glommed onto much of the Messiah’s teaching—whether intentionally or not.

If he was solidly grounded in the Christian faith, his formula for happiness would probably differ slightly. For example, faith in God might be in the list somewhere—quite probably as number one. I don’t want to be too skeptical about him though. Since number one is following through on your commitments, his commitment to the Savior might be contained in that tenet.

If That’s the Case

If that’s the case, the other three would necessarily follow—Scripturally speaking. Number two, for example, is a strong tenet of Christianity. Jesus taught us to be wildly generous. Since Gates is a multi-billionaire, it’s no surprise that he’s given away $35 billion over the past thirty years. He’s definitely not stingy—at least it doesn’t appear that way.

Number three is a no-brainer if you’re a student of the Apostle Paul. Paul tells us that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19). Gates fits right in on that one. God gave us our bodies, we should take decent care of them.

His final one is a tad more restricted than the Biblical admonition to love your neighbor as yourself, but it goes along with the general idea. There’s an old chorus that says something like JOY—Jesus, Others, and You—in that order. Even we thousand-aires can do those things and find happiness. 

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and currently resides in Aldie, VA.]

Lowering the Bar

A new District Attorney was recently elected in the city of San Francisco. His platform was rather interesting. It was, in fact, just the opposite of what one would expect. He has promised not to prosecute “quality of life” crimes.

In case you’re not up on such terminology, please allow me to explain. Better yet, let’s allow the new D.A. to explain. In his words, “Crimes such as public camping, offering or soliciting sex, public urination, blocking a sidewalk, etc., should not and will not be prosecuted.” I know what you’re thinking. “He promised this and still got elected?” Why, yes. Yes, he did.


It was a razor-thin margin, but he was voted in nonetheless. I have no dog in the hunt, as they say, so I’m not going to put up much of a fuss. The citizens of San Francisco have foisted this upon themselves, so it’s their business, not mine. It has, however, decreased my desire to visit the city where Tony Bennett left his heart (which he may want to retrieve at this point).

Just think about your own neighborhood for a moment. If this guy was your D.A., your neighbor could be out walking his dog and decide to defecate on the sidewalk in front of your home. Who ya gonna call? Ghostbusters are in New York, not in San Francisco. It would make no sense to call the police either. Why would they go to the bother of arresting someone who wasn’t going to be prosecuted? It would be a waste of their energy and taxpayers’ money. 

The new D.A.’s stated aim is to help “decriminalize poverty.” I remember my Mom telling me as I was growing up, “You don’t have to be rich to be clean.” We didn’t have much, but I would have been summarily punished if I even approached the behavior this D.A. wants to legalize.

I have no doubt that it would be a very difficult job to clean up the streets of San Francisco as they currently stand. Still, isn’t it worth a try? This guy—and those who voted for him—seem to be giving up.

Broken Window Theory

There’s a thing called the “Broken Window Theory.” Simply put, it’s “a criminological theory that states that visible signs of crime, anti-social behavior, and civil disorder create an urban environment that encourages further crime and disorder, including serious crimes.” In other words, if you let the little stuff slide, it will lead to things that are much worse. Under that theory, allowing people to use your street as a restroom is a step in the wrong direction. 

There’s an interesting verse in Zechariah that says, “Don’t despise the day of small beginnings.” Another way of putting it would be, “Take baby steps!” Small, positive changes could be good. 

In a somewhat related article, however, a man was handcuffed and arrested for eating a sandwich on the Bay Area Rapid Transit. Maybe it will be more than a small change after all. 

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and currently resides in Aldie, VA.]

Throwing Out the Baby

I remember my Mom telling me about growing up during the depression. She was the youngest of nine children. There was no such thing as a water heater (at least in their home). To draw a bath, water was heated over the coal stove in the kitchen. It took quite a while—not to mention, a considerable amount of coal. For that reason, everyone took one bath a week—usually on Saturday.

That thought is bad enough for twenty-first-century Americans. It gets worse, however. Everyone used the same bathwater. Let that one sink in for a moment. In my Mom’s home, they had two parents and nine kids. Even using modern math, that seems to add up to eleven. Eleven people using the same bathwater. Thank God for the showers in my modern, super-comfortable home.

The Pecking Order

It doesn’t stop there, though. There was a pecking order at bath-time. The oldest was always the first to get bathed. Once the eldest was clean, the next one in the age line took their turn. Consequently, the baby always got to use the dirtiest water. Yikes!

In my Mom’s home, they would place a metal tub in the kitchen (closer to the hot water). When everyone had taken their bath, the water—now tepid and grimy at least—was finally tossed out. I don’t know who coined it, but someone finally said, “Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.” Since my Mom was the baby in her home, I’m glad someone came up with this sage advice.

Like many old sayings, this expression has been adapted and applied to various situations for passing along good-sense counsel. Essentially, in the absence of the communal bathtub, it is now taken to mean, “Don’t eliminate the good while tossing out the bad.” I like it.

A Thousand Reasons

Regardless of the fact that most of us are well-versed in that maxim, we often end up doing it anyway. A lot of people are doing this with their faith these days. Because the church is so messed up in many people’s eyes, they have not only rejected the church herself, they are rejecting Christianity in its entirety. 

As a retired pastor, I could give you a thousand reasons to reject the church. There are things that occur in congregations that are upsetting. In fact, some of them are disgusting, and others are downright vile. Not only are there distressing occurrences, but there are also parishioners—ostensibly Christians—who can be repulsive as well. There used to be a joke among pastors that said, “The church would be great if it wasn’t for the people.”

When I was a young pastor, I had a neighbor (who also happened to be one of my parishioners) who, over the years, had earned the nickname, “The Devil on the Hill.” He was credited with singlehandedly driving out several pastors. Folks like him have been catalysts for others to toss out the baby (so to speak). My simple suggestion—don’t reject Jesus because of the devils.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and currently resides in Aldie, VA.]


I woke up this morning to the realization that it was twenty-four degrees. That’s twenty-four with a two. That’s Fahrenheit, not Celsius. That’s…yikes! Get me out of here! I’m just not ready for this. 

Next month I’ll be seventy years old. That’s seventy with a seven. That’s human years, not dog years. That’s…yikes! Get over it! You’ve been through this before—dozens of times.

I’ll Survive

That’s true, of course. At seventy, I’ve seen winters come and go. I’ve actually survived every one of them, and I suppose, I’ll survive this one as well.

Most of us like to complain about the weather, and I’m no exception. I’m not a big fan of the cold—particularly, extreme cold. For me, extreme cold is anything under sixty-seven degrees (that’s Fahrenheit, not Celsius). Eighty-degree days are my faves. They afford me great opportunities to hop on the Harley and take long, satisfying rides (I tend to be a fair-weather rider).

I have friends who are just the opposite, however. These folks enjoy the frigid air that descends upon us each November. While I dream of moving south, they are making plans to head north. I dream of spring training baseball; they dream of skiing. 

Another problem I have with this time of year is the lack of daylight. It gets dark at three in the afternoon. Well, maybe it’s not quite that early, but it sure seems like it. I’m more into the season where the sun sets about nine o’clock. It’s just as they say. “Sunlight is the best disinfectant.” (I know. They’re not speaking of literal sunlight, but I am.)


It sounds like it, but I’m not really complaining—well, maybe a little bit. I will plod through winter and make the best of it. I can do this. I have the technology—not to mention, a lifetime of experience. I’m pretty sure I’ll come out on the other end—virtually unscathed. It’s what I do. I enjoy my summers and survive my winters.

My great hope is found in Scripture. The Prophet Zechariah spoke of a day when, “there will be neither sunlight nor cold, frosty darkness.” That excites me. I’m all-in. He adds that will be, “no distinction between day and night. When evening comes, there will be light.” I’m not sure how literal that is to be taken, but I sure like the whole concept of more warmth and less darkness.

Zechariah is obviously pointing to the end of things as we currently know them. He’s directing our attention to a day when “the Lord will be king over the whole earth.” It sounds like another positive side effect will be a disappearance of politics. “On that day there will be one Lord, and his name the only name.”

If you like frigid weather, darkness, and political intrigue, you might not like Zechariah’s message. I can only assume there will be something for you on that day as well. Maybe a secret tunnel to wintertime…

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and currently resides in Aldie, VA.]

Some Wish

I usually head back the place of my birth at least once or twice per year. It’s only a four or five-hour drive, so when I have an occasional free weekend, I try to head in that direction. The last several times I went, I stayed at the home of some longtime friends.

The last time I trekked to those northlands, I noticed a plaque on one of their walls. The first few times I passed by it, I didn’t give it a second glance. Then, all of a sudden, it seemed to jump out at me. As I recall, the wording went something like this:

            Some want; Some wish; Others make it happen…

When it finally grabbed me, I stopped dead in my tracks and read it over two or three times. As I let it sink in, it dawned on me that the friends in whose home I was visiting were of the third variety. Ever since I’ve known them, they have been people who make it happen—or, at least, try.

Cause Me to Pause

That characteristic is one I recognized in them long before I saw the plaque on their wall. I’ve always admired that quality which is evident in their lives. What their plaque did for me was cause me to pause and ask myself where I stood.

Do I simply want things or wistfully wish for them? Or do I—as do my friends—make things happen? As I stood before that plaque and read it again, it became a sobering thought residing deep in my soul. After that, I didn’t pass that sign again without reading it and allowing it to sink ever more deeply into my psyche. 

As I consider my options in life, it seems to me that simply wanting or wishing for something important is not viable. Being someone who makes it happen is the only way that makes sense for me. On the other hand—and it’s a big hand—attempting to make something happen makes you vulnerable.

Whatever “It” Is

If you’re out to make it happen—whatever “it” is—your attempt will necessarily cause you to take risks. Either you’re risking your reputation, your riches, or your relationships (among other possibilities). One of the largest risks is the risk of failure. I detest failure.

There have been many things I’ve refused to attempt over the years because I was afraid to fail. The plaque on my friends’ wall reminded me of that. It also caused me to think about the fact that the most successful people are usually ones who have failed many times prior to their biggest successes. Investments—whether of time, money, or energy—are ripe for failure.

It’s recorded in Scripture that Jesus once told a young, rich man to invest in heavenly things. His admonition included a guarantee that those kinds of investments “never fail.” We should definitely invest in sure things such as God’s Kingdom. Making it happen in conjunction with God’s will is a no-miss proposition. Try it!

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and currently resides in Aldie, VA.]

Breaking News

I hear it every day. I suppose you do as well. Breaking news! This is the short phrase used to grab our attention. Even after hearing it for a dozen years—at least—I still get sucked in…once in a while. 

The fact of the matter is, very seldom is it breaking news—at least, not as I would define it. To me, breaking news should be something I’ve never heard before. It should, as a bare minimum, be something that the least informed individual on the planet probably hasn’t heard. Sometimes, it doesn’t even rise to the level of that low bar.

Statute of Limitations

I heard it this morning and wondered to myself, “When does the statute of limitations run out on breaking news?” Is it ten minutes, five hours, three days? If something occurs on a Friday, it’s breaking news until Tuesday. It’s as if no-one listens to the news over the weekend.

We’ve become a news-hungry society. We act like we’re news starved. We aren’t, of course. We aren’t even close to that. We pound it away into our mental storehouses like a kid chomping on a quarter pounder from MacDonald’s. We can’t seem to get enough.

Even when we’ve gotten the entire picture, we tune in to see how everyone else is analyzing and/or redefining what we already know. If we don’t, we’re afraid we’ll miss a clue or get it wrong altogether.

The Six O’Clock News

When we were kids, we had something called the Six O’clock News. It lasted a half an hour, then Walter Cronkite would tell us, “And that’s the way it is,” or Huntley and Brinkley would say, “Goodnight, Chet—Goodnight, David.” Then, it was over until the next evening. If it was a Friday evening, there was no more news to speak of until Monday night at six o’clock. Today, we’ve got it flaming at us 24/7/365 (or 366, depending upon the year). We’ve got hourly news, headline news, and sporting news—all day and all night.

I have to admit, I’m just as hooked as anyone—well, maybe not anyone. But I watch a lot of it. I find, however, that I have to watch several flavors just to make sure I’m getting a balanced view. I have to watch one network to get the liberal version, another to take in the conservative viewpoint, and yet another to see what the folks who attempt to take it straight down the middle are saying. Frankly, it can be exhausting.

The biggest problem with all this—as I see it—is that we’re so busy getting the breaking news, we find there is little time left to get the Good News. By the Good News, I’m referring to the Gospel—a word that literally means good news. It’s a term that comes from the old English word, godspel. 

I teach a class every Wednesday evening about the Good News. Frankly, it keeps me far more current than any breaking news. I highly recommend it to you.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and currently resides in Aldie, VA.]