Gospel Moment: The Books They Cannot Shred

A shred truck waited behind the Elections Office on Market Street. On September 30, Registrar Clint Curtis opened ten November 2024 boxes and found log sheets in seven of them — sheets that should never have been sealed in with the ballots. Those sheets are part of what Kari Chilson requested on September 4 under Public Records Act request #26-1766: the December 3 canvass file, including batch sheets, tabulator tapes, observer sign-ins, and chain-of-custody logs. The truck left. The request was not filled.

As Shasta Unfiltered reported today, the date has been moved up. County direction now sets the destruction for 8 a.m. Saturday, October 3. Curtis wrote that County Counsel and the Secretary of State told the office to shred the boxes, even though documents under that open request are still inside, and that destroying those documents violates the law. Furthermore, the office is not allowed to sort them out. California law requires destroying voted-ballot packages after twenty-two months. It does not put the logs, tapes, and sign-in sheets on that same timer. An ex parte petition to stop the shredding was delayed for hearing until October 6 — after the truck is scheduled to roll.

That is why so many in this county cannot sleep. If you stood in that hallway, filed a request, or simply watched the calendar and felt the ground shift, you are not weak for being distraught. People who care whether the count was honest will grieve when the paper that could answer the question is fed into a machine. Grief is not despair. And despair is not what this hour is for.

Kings have burned scrolls. Officials have sealed rooms. Courts have said the clock has run. None of that closed heaven’s record.

“For nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest, nor is anything secret that will not be known and come to light.” (Luke 8:17)

The Lord is not waiting on a cardboard box on Market Street. He was present on December 3, 2024, after five o’clock, when observers say they were escorted out and the count went on. “The eyes of the Lord are in every place, keeping watch on the evil and the good.” (Proverbs 15:3) Men can shred a log sheet. They cannot shred the fact that it existed, or the God who watched it written.

Habakkuk stood where many of you are standing and asked how long the wrong would be allowed to stand. The answer was not a promise that the paperwork would be saved. It was a promise that the vision still had a date. “If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay.” (Habakkuk 2:3) Waiting is not quitting. Waiting is what faith does when the truck's lever isn't in your hand.

A second book decides more than any election. At the end, John writes, “books were opened… and the dead were judged by what was written in the books.” (Revelation 20:12) No retention schedule governs that shelf. No counsel can move that hearing to a Saturday when the witnesses cannot get a courtroom. That should sober the powerful. It should also steady the weary. You do not have to win the file to be remembered by the Judge.

So do not return evil for evil. “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” (Romans 12:21) Bitterness feels like loyalty. It is not. Tell the truth. Keep the copies you already have. Pray for the clerk, for counsel, for the observers, and for the judge who will not hear the petition until Tuesday. Then go home and love your household. The county can schedule a shredder. It cannot shred your soul.

“The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” (Isaiah 40:8) Paper is grass. A Saturday appointment is grass. The promise is not. The same Christ who was condemned on a hurried record and sealed in a tomb walked out of the only room men thought they had locked for good. He is not late to Shasta. He keeps His people, and He keeps His books.

If the boxes go in the morning, it will hurt. Let it hurt. Then lift your eyes. The witness you gave was not wasted. The prayer you pray tonight is not filed in a drawer someone else controls.

A Prayer

Father, You see Market Street and every name on the request that has gone unanswered. Comfort those who have watched and waited, and who now fear the paper will be gone before anyone can read it. Guard them from rage and from despair. Give courage without cruelty, and patience without silence. Expose what should be exposed, and preserve what should be preserved. Remind us that Your books are open, Your timing is sure, and Your Son has already conquered the grave no official could keep shut.

In the name of Jesus, Amen.

The truck can take the boxes. It cannot take the light.

That’s the Gospel Moment.