Beneath the Georgia Pines: A Time for Every Purpose Under Heaven

April 7, 2026 

I am standing in the middle of my estate, looking up at the tops of the pine trees. The Georgia pines sway in the spring breeze. You can actually hear them. The trunks crack under the strain of the wind, and some even break.

As I walk the grounds of my estate, I cannot help but notice that the problem here is not the fire ants. They are not what must be dealt with.

It is not the ticks in the woods that the deer and other creatures carry. That is not the problem.

It is not even the tree line my dad planted twenty years ago, an envelope around this land. He must have known what was coming to our little city by the Coosa River at the foothills of the Appalachians.

No. The problem is that today may be a day that changes world history.

There is a moment in Scripture that says, “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven” from Ecclesiastes 3:1. This feels like one of those moments when time itself bends under the weight of decision.

An American president, exhausted and exasperated after decades of conflict with the Shiite Twelvers in Iran, after years marked by violence, hostage taking, and bloodshed, has declared that within hours an entire civilization may come to an end.

A civilization that has existed on the earth for five thousand years.

This is the land of Cyrus the Great and Xerxes. It is now ruled by men driven by a fervor that defies reason. History has seen empires rise and fall, but there are times when the darkness seems to gather in a way that demands a response. Scripture reminds us, “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers” in Ephesians 6:12.

And here is the weight of it: This decision comes in the shadow of a midterm election that could cost everything. It could end a presidency, shift the balance of power, and bring political ruin.

If someone thinks this is madness, it is not. It is the kind of choice leaders face when the cost of inaction exceeds the cost of action. “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you” from Deuteronomy 31:6.

As I sit here in front of my house, looking at Old Glory, with the 250th anniversary of our Declaration of Independence just months away, I realize something. Anyone who truly cares about their children, their grandchildren, and the future of their nation would feel the weight of such a call.

Even if, in the short term, it brings loss. Even if it risks everything.

The threat is not theoretical. Anyone who has watched the last month unfold knows what could have come next. A nuclear Iran would not have been contained. It would have been an unholy terror.

This moment feels like one of those lines drawn in history. A moment when a leader believes he must act to prevent something far worse.

And standing here beneath these towering pines, listening to them strain and crack in the wind, I am reminded of another truth. “The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty” from Proverbs 22:3.

Some days are quiet. Some pass without notice.

And then there are days like this.

The woods beneath the swaying Georgia pines on my Southside estate, April 7, 2026 — where fire ants, ticks, and even the tree line my father planted are not the real problem today.

A fire ant hill on the south side of my Alabama estate, April 7, 2026 — not the real problem that must be dealt with today.

Old Glory flying on my Alabama estate, April 7, 2026 — the only call worth making for our children, our grandchildren, and the future of our nation, even if the short-term cost is steep.

Georgia Pines on my Alabama estate, April 7, 2026 — swaying and cracking in the spring breeze, a quiet reminder that some problems are far bigger than fire ants, ticks, or even the tree line my father planted twenty years ago