A wise man once said that the tongue is something that no one can tame, that it is depraved, is an unruly evil, and is full of deadly poison.

Evil is most often looked upon as something that is reserved for wicked men and women, that it is consciously embraced by people through temptations and lusts of the soul. However, the fact is, evil strikes at a much earlier age. It is a shroud that envelopes children from birth. They will generally lie, cheat and steal without feeling guilt or remorse. The mystery is that they often grow out of it and become honest, trustworthy adults. Regretfully, some don’t.

If we give serious thought to it, we will conclude that evil comes much more natural than goodness. We have been conditioned to believe that good is the norm for the world, and it has been contaminated with evil; but it seems to be the other way around.

Reality shows us that it begins to work in lives much sooner than good. A baby first cries due to the survival instinct when hungry, but soon develops into crying simply because of wants and not needs alone. We all have surely noticed that most babies, if not all, are totally selfish. When they want something they cry, and if they don't receive it right away they cry louder, and if it is not forthcoming, they may throw a screaming fit. All of this is without a shred of regard or compassion on  behalf of their  mommies and daddies, the very ones who gave them life and will sacrifice just about anything for their little selfish squall bags, as we used to call them. Sadly, more than a few young parents give into their self-centered demands. It is not long before we see two and three-year-olds running the household, and all it takes is an ear piercing scream or big crocodile tears to get their way. I will tell you mothers and dads who have relinquished the reins of the house to their children what will happen: If you do not break their selfish hearts early on, they will break yours later, especially after they become teenagers. They will have no more regard for your feelings than when they were six weeks old. All that has been programmed into them is to have their way, and for some reason, they believe they deserve it because they are so cute and are so dearly loved. We should add, my reference to breaking a child's heart is not breaking his or her spirit. It has to do with shaping their will with caring, loving, yet stern discipline. As a parent, you can damage your child's spirit quite easily by ridicule, disrespect, threats to withdraw love, and by verbal rejection. Anything that depreciates self-worth can be costly to the spirit.

While the spirit is fragile and must be treated gently, the will is made of steel. The will is one of the few intellectual components that arrives full strength at the moment of birth. It seems that a baby knows who he is before he can tell us. Babies seek control of everything around them, especially their parents. This is no surprise to those parents of a strong-willed infant. They have walked the floor with him for hours in the dead of night while listening to this tiny dictator as he made his wants and wishes crystal clear.

Later on, some toddlers can become so angry that they hold their breath until losing consciousness. Anyone who has witnessed this magnitude of defiance was most likely shocked by its power. There is a case written in a 1977 issue of Psychology Today: A mother had a confrontation with her 3-year-old son over something that she wanted him to eat. He was so enraged by her insistence that he refused to eat or drink anything for two full days. He became weak and lethargic but steadfastly held his ground. The mother was worried and guilt-ridden, as might be expected. Finally, in desperation, the father looked the child in the eyes and convinced him that he was going to receive a well-deserved spanking if he didn't eat his dinner. With that maneuver, the contest was over. The toddler surrendered. He began to consume everything he could get his hands on and virtually emptied the refrigerator.

Now tell me, please, why have so few child development authorities not recognized this willful defiance? Why have they written so little about it? My guess is that the acknowledgment of childish imperfection would not fit neatly with the humanistic notion that little people are infused with sunshine and goodness and merely learn the meaning of selfishness and disobedience. To those who hold that pretty picture I can only say, take another look!

Again, a child's heart, his selfish will of steel must be broken and shaped in a fashion that will enable him to grow into a grateful, happy, prosperous individual. But please, take care to not destroy his soft, and often irreparable spirit.

Selfishness is a primary evil that is resident in people without being taught. This is the first of all the evils that human beings embrace and with no shame whatsoever. Therefore, rather than a good world being contaminated with evil, it is the other way around. It is an evil world that is being contaminated by good, and we are thankful for that!

Moreover, evil is the exact opposite of life, and when it is grown can be displayed with uncaring compulsion and without any compunction of guilt whatsoever. The end result can, therefore, be unnecessary killing, that is, taking a life (murder) without the need of survival whether it is killing a corporal body or psychologically killing one's spirit. The fact is, the spirit of a horse, dog, or child can be broken by never touching a hair on its head. Training a child, a horse or other animals in the way they should go is not an evil act of breaking their spirits, but directing them toward a good, useful life. However, there is a very evil course of breaking them unto tormenting their spirits unto death.

For instance, let me relate a near fatal story with a sad, bitter/sweet ending. My sixteen year old brother, Bobby, had bought a high-spirited, sorrel thoroughbred colt with a white mark on its forehead resembling a bolt of lightning. He, therefore, named him Lightning. This was Bobby's first horse, and he loved him dearly. It was not long before there was a close bond between them that one would think could not be broken, but it proved to be otherwise.

Bobby had trained Lightning for riding by slowly getting him accustomed to the hackamore, which is similar to a bridle but without a bit in the mouth. Afterwards it was the saddle blanket and finally the saddle. With tender loving care, Lightning was trained, and all went well until one fateful afternoon when Bobby and I took this lightning streak to the pasture for a ride. It would be my first and last time upon his back. I could hardly wait for my turn, and after Big Brother felt that it was safe, he helped me on his back. All would have been fine; but I had eight to ten old keys on a chain and other jingly things hanging from the loop of my jeans. It was a fad with the younger boys in school at that time, and that little fad almost cost me my life, and it did cost the life, that is, the spirit of Lightning.

He only took a couple of steps with the jingling of the keys before Lightning lived up to his name. Being part quarter horse, like a bolt of greased lightning he exploded out of a cloud of dust . (In case you didn't know greased lightning is a lot faster than normal lightning. The trick is brushing the grease on the lightning bolt. Surely you believe this.)

Notwithstanding, the faster he ran the louder the keys jangled, and he could not escape what was an unidentified, terrifying sound just behind his ears. I was a good rider; but with no bit in his mouth, I did not have the strength to hold him back. Therefore, in a dead-run, Lightning headed for the end of the pasture. All I could do was to hang on; however, I soon saw that hanging on might come to an abrupt halt; for we were fast approaching a four-strand barbed wire fence at the end of the pasture, and the thundering hoofs gave no sign of slowing down. I had jumped logs and other minor obstacles with Mabel, the mother of Lightning, and other horses; but a four-stand barbed wired fence was very questionable. Nonetheless, I braced myself for the jump of my young life; but oh my God! It became very apparent that there would be no jump with which to be concerned--the terrified horse had not seen the fence, that is, not until the very last instant. The only thing he had time to do was to lock all fours as he slid down on his side and into the fence, pinning my left leg between it and the saddle.

By now, the poor animal was running on adrenalin filled panic. Unfettered fear was the driving force of his hoofs as they dug into the earth with the power of every muscle and sinew pushing himself from the ground, and this was with my left leg still pinned between the saddle and the strands of barbed wire. (I have no idea how I escaped with only a two inch gash just above my knee that needed stitches but were never received, which was common in those days. It pretty well tore up my fairly new Levis, though).

After we were finally up and free of the fence, I passed a golden opportunity. I failed to jump to safety before this streak of Lightning that I sat astride bolted back from where we came. At that end of the pasture was more than a fence. There was an old apple orchard. We shot past my horrified brother and into the trees. I was breaking off limbs with my eighty pound body as we plowed headlong through that foreboding labyrinth. We circled back and out of the orchard toward Bobby. His frantic waving of his arms at the terrified horse served only to drive him back into orchard. It was then that he screamed out, "JUMP"! I reacted immediately to his command, which most likely saved my life, or at least saved me from serious injuries; for I was still rolling in a cloud of dust when the panicked-stricken horse ran underneath a huge limb that tore off most of the saddle horn. Only God knows what the driving force of the limb would have done on a young boy's body traveling at thirty or so miles per hour while wedged tightly between the horn the back of the saddle.

I could hear the pounding hoofs as they made another turn toward the edge of the orchard. Without me and my jangling keys on board, he calmed to an exhausted, quivering halt near my protective brother, the one Lightning had always trusted. That which followed was what broke the spirit of a great horse in the making.

Bobby's young, inexperienced mind did not consider the circumstances that caused the runaway colt, nor did he think about the gravity of his impulsive actions. There was a twenty to twenty-five foot long rope that was tied to the hackamore just below and about three inches from the horse's chin, and he took hold of it about four feet from the trailing end. He then proceeded to use it as a whip as he lashed out at Lightning. The already terrified horse bolted, of course; but Bobby set his heels into the ground and with a tight grip on the rope. When the colt hit the end of it, he was jerked around. In anger and retribution for almost killing his little brother, Bobby repeated the whippings until he felt that the horse had paid a just price and had learned his lesson. Sad to say, very sad to say, the great spirit of that young colt was broken that day, and he literally became a neurotic. He was never the same. From that time on he was fearful, unteachable, and void of trust for anyone again. Not even Bobby, especially not Bobby, could ride him with ease due to him being so skittish. I suppose that he was always expecting a beating.

That summer day, my teenage brother ignorantly killed the horse he loved due to the love he had for his kid brother. And upon looking back, I can see that whether it is a young horse, a child, a dog, or a cat—their spirits are very delicate and pliable and can be shaped without much force. With some it takes a little more; but when great pressures of evil are applied, they can be molded into irreversible patterns and unchangeable forms. The case of Lightning was tragic, to say the least, but it is much, much more tragic with children. Although youthful inexperience can be excused, whether in raising horses or children, the fruit thereof can be just as bitter and deadly as when pure evil strikes out for the shear pleasure of wounding and/or selfishly controlling lives.

Therefore, my dear, dear friends, please be careful of evil, and do not be a prisoner to it. Don't turn a blind eye to it. Don't make excuses for evil especially that of the human evil of bad men, or even the evil of babies and children. Deal with them in the ways of love and wisdom. But do not say that such does not exist; for I do not want you to be subtly, ignorantly, or weak-heartedly consumed by it. I want you to live. I want you to live life and to live it more abundantly. I want you to overcome evil and live life it to the maximum! We want you to know that evil is real, and when its mystery is revealed you will be emboldened. You will be enabled to put it underfoot! It is then that it will be conquered in your life! Will this not be wonderful when such deadly poison is nullified and rendered idle in each of us? Yes!

Taken from: http://www.godfire.net/apocalypse_24.html

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