LAWYERS TO WARRIORS AGAIN

Streaming from June 1st: D-Day, Ice Cream, Mad Dog, and the WildernessInstead of starting the count at 1-2-3, I’m beginning on June 1st. That date pulls in the weight of D-Day and the moment my own understanding of myself finally clicked into place. I realized I loved working outdoors with my hands—that’s why no amount of pushing ever turned me into a scholar. My mother trained me the American way: if I ever came home beaten up, she offered a bowl of ice cream. That spirit was hammered into the American psyche because King George III was an arrogant bully who believed God Himself had ordained him to rule.That same backbone ran through my family. My aunt Velma married my uncle John, a war hero who hit the Normandy beach very early as a frogman—clearing obstacles and marking lanes under fire so the invasion could succeed. That legacy of courage lives in me. It’s why I understand President Trump—number 47—so well. He never let the criminals, unions, contractors, politicians, or lawyers bully him. And like me, he refused to stay trapped inside. He built golf courses and stayed active outdoors.I believe Revelation 12 points straight to the western hemisphere as the wilderness where the woman is protected from the dragon. Here, faith and freedom found refuge. By the time I was in manufacturing and pastoring a small church, I had grown so fearless that friends took my initials—M.D. from Mike Dittmer—and nicknamed me Mad Dog.Now we reach the present day. My younger family is upset with this 78-year-old, partially disabled preacher. Without too many details: I called 911 for my young, adorable neighbor (who I won’t name). Instead of sounding panicked, my voice came out amped—like I was on crack. My son-in-law, working third shift as supervisor, heard “some old crazy man” was calling for an ambulance. That word reached my night-owl daughter, who was already in a rough state. It added stress on top of everything else they’re carrying.Part of their load comes from my right-hand man—a good guy, but a dumbass in the ways that mattered to my beautiful youngest daughter. She simply needed him to tell her she was beautiful and to make passionate love to her once in a blue moon. Because he wasn’t managing his diabetes well, the marriage ended in divorce.This plays into a bigger picture I see: God allowed women to vote, and Democrats to rule, with the party heavily financed by divorce lawyers. We’ve endured roughly a hundred years of that machinery. Now we’re shifting—from lawyers to warriors. I’m no prophet and no scholar. I’m a musician who pastored, a man whose expertise is thin but whose eyes are open. It feels clear we’ve reached a tipping point. The western hemisphere’s stand will help protect Israel and Christianity even as the dragon tries to swallow them with corruption, greed, and bribes. So far, it’s not working.Thank you, Jesus./