At least we meant well?

Like a thief in the night ... -- 1 Thessalonians 5:2

Sooner or later, we are all Julian Assange.

Perhaps we meant well. Our intentions were good. We were seeking justice, in some manner of speaking.

There are those who argue such things on behalf of Assange, and it is not without cause to at least pause and hear them out. Extreme measures must be taken at times to hold rogue governments in check, and history has proven one man’s villain is sometimes another man’s freedom fighter in such pursuits.

No doubt Assange and his partner in WikiLeaks’ breach of classified U.S. documents, Bradley Manning, consider themselves the latter. They repeatedly have reminded us of that, in fact. Yet now Assange stands indicted as a conspirator against the United States for allegedly agreeing to help Manning crack a Defense Department password in 2010.

For my part, I have long believed Assange to be a fiend and a corrupting influence on people who aren’t smart enough to realize you shouldn’t keep a scorpion for a pet. But he is also uncomfortably familiar in an existential way.

I see him in the legislator who constantly seeks moderation or pragmatism and thus never makes good on the promises he originally ran for office on.

I see him in the reporter who lectures us about the importance of the Fourth Estate in one breath and in the next weaponizes the Fourth Estate as an outright propaganda tool.

I see him in the pastor who preaches on God’s relentless love in the form of tolerance and diversity, but says nothing about God’s relentless justice when squared up against sin.

I see him in the parent who always sees the special snowflake in their child but never the East of Eden.

I see him in the college coaches taking bribes and ignoring criminal behavior because, hey, they are giving kids a chance at their dream.

I see Assange everywhere. Because we are all fiends.

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Without the grace of God, we all want what we want when we want it, and if we don’t get it, we are victims who aren’t appreciated and deserve to identify any fever dream we can conjure up as tyrannically true.

That’s who you saw being hauled out of the Ecuadoran Embassy in London. A very proud man who put one over on a lot of people for a very long time. Still wagging his finger at the world as his past catches up with him. Still thinking he’s outsmarted everyone. Still thinking he’s the better man.

Assange is the spirit-of-the-age progressive hive mind incarnate that now devours much of Western civilization. Even as its schemes collapse in on themselves, it only grows stronger in its manic obstinacy against the nature of reality itself. No humility whatsoever.

It would be easy to marginalize Assange as a unique sort of criminal who has nothing to do with our daily plights. But man, is he us. Because we all love our little scams. Our hustles. Our usurpations. Those who rightly called out Clinton corruption during the 2016 election, then at the same time elevated Assange to folk hero because he hated Hillary too, bear witness to this inconvenient truth.

Not one of us is good or just. Not. One.

And the time either comes when we acknowledge that and bend the knee to our maker, or we are judged eternally guilty and found wanting.

But at least we meant well, or something.