One of the most revealing features of modern Christianity — across Catholic, Protestant, and nondenominational churches alike — is how Jesus is so often presented: gentle, affirming, and above all reassuring. He is described primarily as the “Prince of Peace,” a title that appears only once in scripture (Isaiah 9:6), or reduced to a generalized ethic of niceness often summarized as “Jesus is love.”

The problem is not that these ideas are false. It is that they are radically incomplete.

Jesus prays for His followers, not for the world as such. He commands love of neighbor, but He never pretends that truth and allegiance are optional.

Scripture presents God as merciful, gracious, and abundant in goodness and truth (Exodus 34:6), but the same passage insists that He “will by no means clear the guilty.” Love, in the biblical sense, is inseparable from justice.

When Jesus commands His disciples to love one another, the apostle Paul clarifies what this means: to fulfill the law and do no harm to one’s neighbor (Romans 13:8-10). Love is not affirmation of wrongdoing; it is obedience to God’s moral order.

This distinction was not always obvious to me.

Scriptural reckoning

For much of my life, I was a Christian in name only — attending church, absorbing familiar slogans, and assuming that the moral core of Christianity consisted of kindness paired with a firm prohibition against judgment or righteous anger. That changed four years ago when I began reading scripture seriously, first through a Jewish translation of the Old Testament and later through a King James Study Bible in weekly study with a close friend.

We made a simple but demanding commitment: start at Genesis and read every verse, in order, without skipping the difficult passages. We are now in Matthew 6. This approach differs sharply from curated reading plans that promise familiarity with the Bible while quietly filtering out the parts that unsettle modern sensibilities.

Reading scripture this way forces a reckoning.

Anger management

Consider Matthew 5:22, where Jesus warns against being angry with one’s brother “without cause” — a qualifying phrase absent from many modern translations. That distinction matters. Without it, the verse suggests that all anger is sinful. With it, scripture acknowledges a truth borne out repeatedly: Anger can be justifiable, but it must be governed.

Jesus Himself demonstrates this. He overturns tables in the Temple (Matthew 21:12). He rebukes religious leaders sharply. He experiences betrayal, grief, and indignation — yet never loses control. The lesson is not emotional suppression, but moral discipline.

Reading the King James Bible makes these tensions impossible to ignore. Its language is austere and elevated, but more importantly, it preserves a view of humanity that allows for courage, judgment, and resolve alongside mercy. This stands in contrast to many modern ecclesial presentations of Christ, which portray Him almost exclusively as a comforting presence whose primary concern is emotional reassurance.

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No more Mr. Nice Guy

But Jesus explicitly rejects this reduction. In Matthew 5:17-20, He states plainly that He did not come to abolish the law or the prophets, but to fulfill them. The New Testament does not replace the Old; it completes it. The Old Testament establishes the moral and civilizational framework. The New Testament builds the interpersonal life of faith upon it.

Jesus is eternal (John 8:58), one with the Father and the Spirit (John 14). He is not absent from the demanding and often terrifying episodes of Israel’s history. The same Christ who calls sinners to repentance is present when God judges nations, disciplines His people, and establishes His covenant through struggle and sacrifice.

This continuity matters because it exposes the weakness of a Christianity that treats faith primarily as therapy. Churches shaped around likability and marketability inevitably soften doctrine. Hard truths drive people away; reassurance fills seats. The result is a faith that speaks endlessly about peace while avoiding the cost of discipleship.

A pastor at my church recently put it well: It is better to hold a narrow theology — one that insists scripture means what it says — and to extend fellowship generously to those who submit to it, than to hold a broad theology that can be made to say anything and therefore demands nothing. Jesus prays for His followers, not for the world as such (John 17). He commands love of neighbor, but He never pretends that truth and allegiance are optional.

This is why Jesus’ own words about conflict are so often ignored. In Luke 22:36, He tells His disciples to prepare themselves, even to the point of acquiring swords. The passage is complex and easily abused, but its presence alone undermines the notion that Jesus preached passive moral disarmament. Scripture consistently portrays a God who calls His people to vigilance, readiness, and courage — spiritual first, but never abstracted from the real world.

Cross before comfort

Many of Jesus’ parables involve kings, landowners, or rulers — figures of authority, stewardship, and judgment. The Parable of the Ten Minas in Luke 19 is especially unsettling. There Jesus depicts a king rejected by his people, fully aware of their hatred, and describes the fate rebellion would merit if this were a worldly kingdom. The point is not to license violence, but to make unmistakably clear that rejection of Christ is not morally neutral.

Modern Christianity often flinches at this clarity. It prefers a Jesus who reassures rather than commands, who affirms rather than judges. But scripture presents something sterner and more demanding. Jesus does not seek universal approval. He seeks faithfulness. He does not promise comfort. He promises a cross.

As the late Voddie Baucham frequently observed, the cross is not a symbol of tolerance; it is a declaration of war against sin.

The question Christianity ultimately poses is not whether Jesus is kind — He is — but whether He is Lord. And if He is, discipleship is not a matter of sentiment, but allegiance.

Malcolm Muggeridge: Fashionable idealist turned sage against the machine

“The depravity of man is at once the most empirically verifiable reality and the most intellectually resisted fact.”

The name of the man who made this pronouncement may not mean much to many readers now. Yet the world he warned about has arrived all the same, whether his name is remembered or not.

When Malcolm Muggeridge — a British journalist and broadcaster who became a public figure in his own right — died in 1990, many of his fears still felt abstract. The moral strain was visible, but the structure was holding. Progress was spoken of with confidence, and freedom still sounded uncomplicated.

'I never knew what joy was until I gave up pursuing happiness.'

Today, those assumptions lie in pieces. What he distrusted has hardened into dogma. What he questioned has become unquestionable. We are living amid the consequences of ideas he spent a lifetime probing.

Theory meets reality

Muggeridge was never dazzled by modern promises. He distrusted grand schemes that claimed to perfect humanity while refusing to reckon with human nature. That suspicion wasn’t a pose; it was learned. As a young man, he flirted with communism, drawn in by its certainty and its language of justice. Then he went to Moscow. There, theory met reality.

What he encountered was not liberation but deprivation. Hunger was rationalized as hope. Cruelty came wrapped in benevolent language. Compassion was loudly proclaimed and quietly absent. The experience cured him of fashionable idealism for life. It also taught him something harder to accept: Evil often enters history announcing itself as virtue, and the most dangerous lies are told with complete sincerity.

That lesson stayed with him. In an age once again thick with certainty, that insight feels uncomfortably current.

Pills and permissiveness

Yet Muggeridge’s critique extended beyond politics. At heart, he believed the modern crisis was spiritual. God had become an embarrassment, sin a diagnosis, and responsibility something to be displaced by grievance. Pleasure, once understood as a byproduct of order, was recast as life’s purpose. The result, he argued, wasn’t freedom but loss.

This realism shaped his opposition to the sexual revolution. Long before its consequences were obvious, he warned that freedom severed from restraint wouldn’t liberate people so much as hollow them out. He mocked the belief that pills and permissiveness would deliver happiness. What he anticipated instead was loneliness, instability, and a culture increasingly medicated against its own dissatisfaction.

Muggeridge also understood the media with unsettling clarity. As a journalist and broadcaster, he watched newsrooms trade substance for spectacle and truth for approval. When entertainment becomes the highest aim, he warned, reality soon becomes optional.

By the end of his career, Muggeridge had dismantled nearly every modern promise. Fame proved thin. Desire disappointed. Professional success brought no lasting peace. Skepticism could clear the ground, but it could not explain why nothing worked.

A skeptic stands down

When after more than a decade of exploring Christianity, Muggeridge finally entered the Catholic Church in 1982, the reaction among his peers was disbelief bordering on embarrassment. This was not the impulse of a sentimental seeker but of one of Britain’s most famous skeptics — a man who had mocked piety, distrusted enthusiasm, and made a career of puncturing illusions.

Friends assumed it was a late-life affectation, a theatrical flourish from an aging contrarian. Muggeridge himself knew better. He had not converted because Christianity felt safe or consoling, but because, after a lifetime of alternatives, it was the only account of reality that still made sense.

As he had written years before in "Jesus Rediscovered," “I never knew what joy was until I gave up pursuing happiness.”

That sentence captures the logic of his conversion. Muggeridge did not arrive at faith through nostalgia or temperament. Christianity did not flatter him. It named pride, lust, and cruelty plainly, then offered grace without euphemism. It explained the world he had already seen — and himself within it.

Washington Post/Getty Images

Truth endures

His Catholicism was not an escape from seriousness but its culmination. He believed human beings flourish within limits, not without them; that desire requires direction; that pleasure without purpose corrodes. Christianity endured, he argued, not because it was comforting but because it was true.

After his conversion, Muggeridge did not soften. He sharpened. The satire retained its bite. The warnings grew more direct. But they were no longer merely critical. Skepticism had given way to clarity — not because he had abandoned reason, but because he had finally stopped pretending it was enough.

More than three decades after his death, Muggeridge’s voice sounds less like commentary than like counsel. The world he warned about has arrived. What remains is the stubborn relevance of faith grounded in reality — and the freedom that comes only when truth is faced, rather than fled.

'Anti-ICE' Christians mistake moral confusion for empathy

Christians are called to be people of truth. But when we fail to ground our thinking in biblical principles, we can end up telling inadvertent lies — and mischaracterizing fellow believers in the process.

Exhibit A: this post from a Christian writer and speaker, sharing with her Christian followers, regarding current events centered in Minneapolis.

Empathy for the hurting extends to all those who hurt, and plenty have been hurt by the assault on our borders over the past few years.

She writes:

I’m reading through the gospels right now, and I’m struck by what the leaders of Israel enticed the crowds to demand — that an innocent man be put to death and a murderer (Barabbas) be freed from prison and the obvious consequences of his egregious actions. This is the hallmark of an unjust society, where we vilify those who have done nothing wrong (and treat them like criminals), or we applaud and set free those who harm others.

She never mentions Minnesota or Immigration and Customs Enforcement, but her followers’ responses make it abundantly clear they got (and “loved”) the intended message.

'Vilifying' crime?

Apparently the writer perceives illegal immigrants as “those who have done nothing wrong” who we are “vilifying” and “treating like criminals.” (Pro tip: Breaking a law makes you a criminal.) ICE agents, apparently, are “those who harm others” that we are supposedly “applauding” or “setting free.”

She goes on:

I am heartbroken by the current state of things in my country. Deeply troubled. Praying. Worrying, if I’m honest. I keep watching documentaries about tyranny and cult leaders and history.

Tyranny and cult leaders? Since we hear this from the left constantly, we know exactly what she’s trying to say.

And that’s what “deeply troubles” ME.

That the current administration — which is carrying out the federal government’s long-neglected role in protecting our borders and thus our communities — is somehow tyrannical. That those of us who support this, many of us who voted for this, are akin to a “cult.”

Thinking it through

I’m troubled by Christians who knee-jerk react to the world without thinking issues through biblically, as she demonstrates here:

I do understand the nature of evil — to call evil good and good evil.

My friend, we are not the ones confusing evil and good here. Let’s break it down.

First, sin is evil. Period. So when we are talking about evil, we are talking about sin.
Second, breaking the law is sin/evil. Unless the law directly contradicts the word of God.

Can we agree on those two principles?

If I break down your door to get into your home — even if I just walk in your unlocked door — that is a sin.

It’s a sin because it’s against the law (and that law in no way contradicts the word of God).
It’s also a sin because I am taking — stealing — something that belongs to you. Your home, your privacy, your sense of safety, your peace. I have no right to invade your space. I have no right to breach your border.

Profoundly hypocritical

Doors and locks exist for a reason, just like borders and guarded crossing points do. Those who advocate for open borders (identified by their yelling, “No one is illegal!”) live in homes with doors and locks. They are profoundly hypocritical.

They are worse than hypocritical actually. Because while they still seek to protect themselves, they are happy for other people to be stripped of that right. And for other people to have to deal with the loss of safety and peace.

Consider these females, all attacked and murdered by men here illegally: Kayla Hamilton, Ruby Garcia, Lizbeth Medina, Rachel Morin, Laken Riley, Jocelyn Nungaray, Joselyn Toaquiza, Melody Waldecker, and Mollie Tibbetts.

And these women are hardly the only victims. In Texas alone, hundreds of people have died in recent years at the hands of people who entered illegally. I mention Texas because nobody else is tracking this particular statistic — Americans killed by illegal border-crossers.

Meantime thousands of illegal border-crossers who are also convicted murderers still roam free nationwide.

Of course, murder isn’t the only evil aided and abetted by illegal immigration. As we’ve seen in recent days from the same troubled state, fraud and taxpayer abuse is rampant as well, with wholly corrupt public officials turning a blind eye or benefiting from the scams.

Law and sin

But even if an illegal border-crosser never committed another crime nor took a dime of taxpayer money — it would STILL not be wrong to send him/her home. There is a line to get in, there are people waiting in that line, and they cut in front. They broke the law. It’s a sin. It’s evil.

(By the way, speeding is against the law too, in case we’re feeling superior in any way. God’s standards are high!)

The left cannot and will not see border issues for what they are, but Christians should take no part in the ungodly confusion of thinking that wanting to curb this evil is itself evil.

No true Christian

One of the comments to the post came from a Canadian:

I don’t even live in the USA but I am deeply troubled also. I am praying for the so called “Christian” to wake up from their slumber and see what’s really going on. True followers of Christ would not support this evil.

This comment, actually, is a sin. Because it’s wrong to assume that fellow Christians whose viewpoints on deportation proceedings differ from yours are therefore not “true followers.”

Especially in an age when people tend to get their news from the same sources over and over, we should tread very lightly in making assumptions about someone’s salvation. That is in fact the judging we’re not supposed to do, because we don’t know people’s hearts — as opposed to the judging we can do, when people say or do specific sinful things.

Can we talk?

A reasonable discussion we might have here could center around specific ICE tactics. But we can’t have that discussion because one side refuses to acknowledge the legitimacy of ICE in the first place (many also seem to be under the wholly ignorant impression it didn’t exist or take action before Trump). They also refuse to acknowledge the legitimacy of a border, for the most part.

And they certainly refuse to acknowledge the fact that actively impeding lawful efforts to enforce law is in fact breaking the law and is therefore ... yes, a sin/evil.

Peacefully holding a protest sign is not wrong in any way. But let’s not pretend that’s what’s happening here, when “playbooks” are being disseminated online for physically engaging with these federal officers and “anti-ICE” groups openly call for violence. These things, as we have already seen, put the protesters — whether they are paid or just easily misled — in danger too.

Empathy for all

A topic for another time, perhaps, is the over-the-top emotion and angst over this American situation, which at this point involves the sad death of exactly one person who arguably put herself squarely in harm’s way. This response to the writer’s post is a good example:

It’s really hard for me to enjoy life like nothing is happening when so many others are hurting.

This Christian American woman is struggling to enjoy life. Because ICE. Not because thousands of Iranians are being slaughtered by the Islamic Republic of Iran, or the humanitarian crisis in Sudan, or any other people hurting, but because America is deporting people who shouldn’t have illegally crossed in.

Empathy for the hurting extends to all those who hurt, and plenty have been hurt by the assault on our borders over the past few years. With that in mind, another quote from the original post:

The way of Jesus is not conquest, nor is it victory over our so-called enemies. ... It means listening to the hurting, entering into the worlds of those who differ from us, and loving people we disagree with.

I could not agree more. We Christians, who believe any government’s God-ordained job is to protect its own citizens and therefore support deportation of people who “skipped the line” to get in (especially violent people), would appreciate having a civil conversation about this topic.

That — as opposed to indirectly or directly calling us nonbelievers — would be the loving thing to do.

This article was adapted from an essay originally published on Diane Schrader's Substack, She Speaks Truth.

Biden's faith attacks backfire: Support for religious liberties soars to record high under Trump, new report shows

Against a backdrop of mounting attacks on churches, the Biden administration worked ardently to curb religious liberties wherever they came into conflict with the left's radical agenda.

For example:

the Biden Equal Employment Opportunity Commission implemented a rule requiring employers — including Christian organizations — to accommodate workers' efforts to abort their unborn children;
the EEOC attempted to force Christians to pay for employees' sex-rejection mutilations;
the Biden Department of Health and Human Services attempted to bar Christian providers who hold biblical and scientifically grounded views about sex and marriage from the foster-care system; and
under Biden, a Catholic, the FBI characterized conservative Catholics as potential domestic terrorists and proposed to infiltrate Catholic churches as "threat mitigation."

It's clear from the Becket Fund for Religious Liberty's latest Religious Freedom Index that unlike the administration voted out of power in 2024, the American people overwhelmingly — and increasingly — support religious liberties.

'Our nation still believes that our first freedom belongs at the heart of our culture; not as a source of conflict, but as a foundation for overcoming it.'

Over the past six years, Becket has tracked public opinion on religious freedom. The legal group's index for 2025 published on Friday registered the highest cumulative score for public support of religious freedom to-date — 71 on a scale from 0 to 100 where 0 indicates complete opposition to religious liberty and 100 indicates robust support.

This amounts to a dramatic shift, especially when compared to 2020, when the composite score was 66.

Whereas in 2020, 52% of respondents agreed that religious freedom is inherently public and that Americans should be able to share their faith in public spaces, that number jumped to 57% in the latest RFI.

There was an even bigger shift when it came to support for parents' ability to opt out of public school curricula they believe to be inappropriate — a jump from 63% in 2021 to 73% in 2025.

Photo by ANOEK DE GROOT/AFP via Getty Images

When asked specifically about the Supreme Court's June 2025 ruling in Mahmoud v. Taylor, 62% of respondents signaled support for the high court's decision to side with the Maryland parents who wanted to protect their children from LGBT propaganda in Montgomery County Public Schools.

On the question of whether public funding for education should be available to all families, including those who choose religious schools, 77% of respondents said they were mostly or completely in favor.

The report noted that "although this year's Index found that Americans have cooled on the benefits of religion to society and are skeptical of institutions, they unify around the simple principles of religious freedom for all, even in difficult cases that invite scrutiny or controversy."

A clear majority, 58%, of Americans said they support the right of a Christian baker to decline to make cakes that conflict with her sincere religious views.

Sixty-one percent of respondents said that the First Amendment's guarantee of the free exercise of religion should protect Catholic priests from having to break the seal of confession as would have been required by Washington state Democrats' now-enjoined Senate Bill 5375.

There was markedly less support for the Christian counselor in the case Chiles v. Salazar who challenged Colorado's prohibition on so-called "conversion therapy" for non-straight youth. Only 47% expressed support for her ability to provide talk therapy to children to help them overcome their gender dysphoria.

"Year after year, the Index has made clear that religious liberty remains one of our most cherished values," Mark Rienzi, president and CEO of Becket, said in a statement obtained by Blaze News.

"Even amid deep divisions, our nation still believes that our first freedom belongs at the heart of our culture; not as a source of conflict, but as a foundation for overcoming it," continued Rienzi. "The work before us is to see that freedom protected for our children and theirs in the years to come."

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Chuck Colson: Nixon loyalist who found hope in true obedience

Long before he turned his life over to God, Chuck Colson burned with faith.

While working as an assistant to Massachusetts Senator Leverett Saltonstall (R), he met Richard Nixon — then vice president — and, by his own later admission, instantly became “a Nixon fanatic.” That loyalty, unwavering and severe, would become the defining feature of his life. It was also what made him so effective — and so dangerous.

For the first time in his adult life, Colson was forced to confront who he was without title, access, or leverage.

Hopelessly devoted

Colson’s devotion was not opportunistic. It was total. He believed loyalty was a virtue, even when it demanded cruelty. Years later, he would boast that he would “walk over my own grandmother” to re-elect Nixon. The line was meant to shock, but it also clarified something essential: Colson understood obedience as a moral good, independent of mercy or restraint. Colson was not a cynic pretending to believe. He was a believer who believed too much.

In Washington, that made him useful. He became the administration’s enforcer — a man willing to apply pressure, intimidate enemies, and blur lines. Politics, as Colson practiced it, was not persuasion. It was war. And war required soldiers willing to do what polite men would not.

Hatchet man

When Daniel Ellsberg leaked the Pentagon Papers, the government moved to prosecute him under the Espionage Act of 1917. For Colson, however, the embarrassment Ellsberg caused his mentor merited more than official retribution — it called for something more underhanded.

Colson’s instinct was not rebuttal but destruction: He supported efforts to smear Ellsberg as unstable and dangerous, a campaign that helped create the climate in which Nixon operatives burglarized Ellsberg’s psychiatrist’s office.

When Watergate collapsed the Nixon presidency, Colson collapsed with it. As legal consequences closed in, a friend pressed a copy of "Mere Christianity" into his hands and forced him to confront what power had allowed him to evade.

He pleaded guilty to obstruction of justice and became the first Nixon aide to get jail time. By then, the obedience he had given so freely had nowhere left to land.

Accustomed to command

Colson entered federal prison as a man accustomed to command. Early on, he braced himself for contempt from guards who knew who he was. Instead, one offered something worse: indifference — the unmistakable message that he was not special here and should act accordingly.

It was a small moment, but a decisive one. For the first time in his adult life, Colson was forced to confront who he was without title, access, or leverage. He was not feared or in control. He wasn't even useful.

And so he began to learn a fundamental lesson of Christianity, one that power obscures: We are not self-sustaining. The first step toward obedience, Colson would later say, is realizing who you are when everything else is stripped away — and how dependent you are on grace you did not earn.

Scott Adams in 2002. Phil Velasquez/Chicago Tribune/Tribune News Service via Getty Images

Surprised by truth

After his release, Colson avoided the obvious paths. He did not rehabilitate his reputation through commentary. He did not return to politics as a chastened insider. Instead, he committed the remainder of his life to prisoners — men for whom dependence was not temporary.

“Christianity is not about becoming respectable,” Colson later said. “It is about becoming obedient.” Colson's instinct for loyalty made him a quick study. But his newfound faith didn't soften his nature as much as it reordered it toward something worthier.

To the end, Colson remained intense, structured, demanding, and — as those who doggedly proclaim the truth tend to be — dangerous.

3 healthy habits to bring you closer to God in 2026

As Christians, when we consider New Year’s resolutions, we often think about reading the Bible more, praying more often, or maybe getting more involved in our church. Those are all wonderful things worthy of pursuing.

Rather than taking time to expound on those, however, I’d like to commend three other resolutions that may not make the usual lists.

Our bodies and souls are integrally connected, and each significantly influences the other.

These are practical — maybe even commonsensical — but given the times in which we live, they’re easy to neglect, with the result that we flourish less than we could.

1. Practice attention management

We hear a great deal about time management these days, but rarely about attention management. Americans spend multiple hours each day on their phones, with teens devoting more than nine hours(!) and adults more than four hours daily. We’re awash in a sea of texts, emails, videos, games, and alerts. If we’re not careful, these can become an endless series of distractions that divert our attention from more important things.

They can also subtly mold us in the shape of the secular culture that produces much of what we consume. As theologian Jason Thacker writes, “Following Jesus in a digital age requires ... having our eyes wide open and seeing how technology is subtly shaping us in ways often contrary to our faith. We need to learn how to ask the right questions about our relationship with technology, examining it with clear eyes grounded in the Word of God.”

It takes some intentionality to guard our hearts from the often counter-Christian messages coming through our screens, but we have to make it a priority because “everything [we] do flows from” our hearts (Proverbs 4:23). We can use technology in many beneficial ways, but we must also “examine everything” and “hold firmly to that which is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:21) while avoiding obstacles to our spiritual growth.

2. Get more sleep

There’s an old saying among pastors that “sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is take a nap.” After all, we’re not just souls or minds, but also physical beings, by God’s design. Christians are sometimes tempted to view our physical nature in a negative light, but this reflects a Gnostic view that sees the spiritual as good and the material as bad or inferior. This is alien to Scripture, however, which tells us that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14). As John W. Kleinig argues in his book "Wonderfully Made: A Protestant Theology of the Body":

The body matters much more than we usually imagine it does. It matters because it locates us in time and space here on earth. It matters because we live in it and with it. It matters because through it we interact with the world around us, the people who coexist with us, and the living God who keeps us physically alive in it.

Our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19). In order to keep them healthy and functioning properly, adults need between seven and nine hours of sleep each day. A lack of sufficient sleep can lead to heart disease, hormonal imbalances, reduced immune response, and a lack of mental focus, among other problems.

Since blue light from our phone and computer screens can make it harder to get deep, restful sleep, this is another good reason to limit screen time, especially close to bedtime.

Get enough sleep, and you’ll likely notice greater energy, optimism, and an increased capacity to exhibit the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23). Our bodies and souls are integrally connected, and each significantly influences the other.

3. Cultivate friendships

Even before the Covid-19 pandemic, half of U.S. adults reported feelings of loneliness, with 58% worrying that no one in their life knows them well. We live in a hyper-individualistic society that often views other people as obstacles to our personal agendas. Yet God designed us to live in close connection with other humans, especially fellow believers. The writer of Hebrews instructed his readers not to give up “meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another” (Hebrews 10:25). Like Christians in the early church, we should “[devote ourselves] to ... fellowship” (Acts 2:42).

Since we’ve been noting how some of these resolutions affect our physical health, it’s remarkable that chronic loneliness is more dangerous than smoking 15 cigarettes a day! Thus, author Justin Earley observes that “friendship will make or break your life.” We can see the wisdom of God’s statement in Genesis that “it is not good for the man to be alone” (Genesis 2:18).

Heritage Images/Getty Images

The quality of our friendships also makes a big difference. We’ve all seen groups of people sitting together in some public place, not interacting with one another, but engrossed in their phones. “This is what community often looks like in the digital age,” writes pastor Jay Kim. “Lonely individuals falling prey, over and over again, to the great masquerade of digital technology” that lulls us “into a state of isolation via the illusion of digital connection.”

As Kim goes on to note, while we can communicate digitally, we can only commune in person. Communication is about the exchange of information, while communing involves the exchange of presence. Communing is the more difficult task because it “requires more of us: more of our attention, empathy, and compassion.”

So this year, I encourage you to practice attention management, get enough sleep, and intentionally look for opportunities to begin new friendships and deepen old ones. It will take some deliberate effort, and every relationship will have growing pains, but the greater depth of fellowship will be worth it. As a saying often attributed to 18th-century evangelist George Whitefield goes, “No man is the whole of himself. His friends are the rest of him.”

A version of this essay originally appeared in the Worldview Bulletin Substack.

New York Archbishop Timothy Dolan resigns; pope appoints his replacement

Per the resignation norms revised by the late Pope Francis in 2014, Cardinal Timothy Dolan was obligated to present his letter of resignation from the pastoral governance of the Archdiocese of New York upon reaching the age of 75.

Cardinal Christophe Pierre, apostolic nuncio to the U.S., confirmed on Thursday that Pope Leo XIV has accepted Dolan's resignation and appointed fellow Illinoisan Bishop Ronald Hicks of the Diocese of Joliet to take over the 4,683 square-mile archdiocese that serves over 1.5 million Catholics.

Cardinal Dolan — who has served as archbishop of New York since his appointment by the late Pope Benedict XVI in February 2009 — will continue to serve as the apostolic administrator until the installation of his 58-year-old replacement at Saint Patrick's Cathedral on Feb. 6, 2026.

'Running the New York archdiocese is a daunting task.'

Archbishop-designate Hicks, a native of Harvey, Illinois, will be the 14th bishop and 11th archbishop of the See of New York.

In addition to his time as bishop of Joliet, Hicks previously served in El Salvador as the regional director of Nuestros Pequeños Hermanos, a home dedicated to caring for thousands of orphaned and abandoned children in various Latin American and Caribbean countries; dean of formation at Mundelein Seminary; vicar general of the Archdiocese of Chicago; and auxiliary bishop of Chicago.

Hicks is no stranger to the pope, having spoken with him at length just last year.

After Pope Leo's election, Hicks sung the Chicago native's praises and told WGN-TV, "I recognize a lot of similarities between him and me. So we grew up literally in the same radius, in the same neighborhood together."

Photo by Masrio Tomassetti - Vatican Media via Vatican Pool/Getty Images

Rev. David Boettner, one of Hicks' former classmates at Mundelein Seminary, told Faith magazine in 2020, "As a seminarian and as a priest, he has always had a deep love of people and a generosity of his time to serve the needs of others."

"He has always lived his promise of obedience to the Church, and his first answer when asked to serve is almost always yes," added Boettner.

Rev. James Presta, a priest who worked with Hicks at Mundelein and at St. Joseph College Seminary, said, "He has been a mentor to young priests. He offers them fraternal support and sound, practical wisdom as a brother priest."

Bill Donohue, president of the Catholic League, stressed that Cardinal Dolan will be missed.

"He is a very special man. He always fought for justice, and his amiable character won the applause of Catholics and non-Catholics alike. He was certainly very kind to me," Donohue said in a statement. "His fairness never stood in the way of being outspoken about contemporary issues. He was not tied to the politics of the left or the right."

While tethered neither to the left nor the right, Dolan called on Catholics to "be very active, very informed, and very involved in politics"; criticized the perverse secular culture that "seems to discover new rights every day"; championed religious liberty; and defended Christian morality, especially as it pertains to marriage and the rights of the unborn.

"Running the New York archdiocese is a daunting task, but it is one that suits the new archbishop," noted Donohue. "Archbishop Ronald Hicks is young and vibrant and will be able to put his considerable administrative experience to good use. We look forward to working with him."

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Growing up in the Hebrew Roots movement — and why I eventually had to leave

Several years before my husband and I met, one of his friends told him, “Modern youth are hungry for truth, and they are looking to the oldest forms of traditional orthodoxy to find it. This leaves them with two main choices: Catholicism or Hebrew Roots.”

My husband hadn’t heard of Messianics before this, or he had heard just enough to scoff at the idea of marrying someone who “pretended to be a Jew.” Nevertheless, his friend’s statement stuck with him. Who were these Protestants LARPing as Jews that they could draw intelligent youth in search of truth away from Catholicism?

We were all encouraged to study our Bibles for ourselves and to test one another. When the family home-churched together, it was always lively.

Relishing the chaos

Some would call us Judaizers.

We are certainly not ordinary Protestants. In fact, my family and most Messianics I grew up with believed that the Catholic Church is the whore of Babylon and the Protestant churches are her daughters. Most Christians were “too Catholic” in our opinion because they went to church on Sunday and celebrated Christmas, two practices instituted by Catholicism.

Despite how odd Messianics might be, they are too disorganized to be classified as a cult. There are somewhere around 200,000-300,000 Hebrew Roots people with no central figure, and there are countless groups within the movement. Some of them are self-identifying Torah followers who may lead isolated lives or fellowship at home with a few like-minded people. Others are members of organized Messianic denominations.

The movement has very few real Jews in it, and for the most part Messianic believers reject modern-day Jewish practices. Instead we endeavor to interpret the Old Testament as literally as possible. This, of course, is nearly an impossible feat and the main cause for disunity in the Hebrew Roots movement.

Perhaps what makes this expression of group interesting is the fact that it is a movement that can’t really be defined as a whole, and yet all the members of it believe that the truth they have is absolute, even though all their like-minded compatriots disagree with them on how to execute this truth. To those raised in the movement, the disorder and chaos are natural and even relished. To those watching from the outside, I can only imagine how bizarre we appear.

Family tradition

My mom chose my name because it was old-fashioned. Most of the rest of the family didn’t like it and tried to give me various nicknames. But my parents named me perfectly.

Keturah — meaning a sacrificial aroma/incense — may be strange-sounding, but it also uniquely fits in all the worlds I’m most interested in. It is both a Jewish and an Amish name and, oddly, has a deep Catholic meaning. It has served me well in the secular world, too, with its unique sound. My name has made it possible for me to blend in among both Christian hippies and woke misfits.

I never considered how odd it was that my great-grandfather basically invented the religion I grew up with (with heavy modifications made by my grandfather). What should have been a red flag — why did nobody figure this out before my great-grandfather? — was instead championed as proof of our righteousness.

My great-grandfather had been a Pentecostal pastor. But he started reading his Bible one day. This led him to preaching on things that his congregation was not ready for, because “the ways of the world were too comfortable.” He left his church, took another wife (his first wife left him with their three children because his beliefs were getting strange), and began a road ministry that my grandfather eventually took over.

I was often told the story of the Rechabites, a family who were saved from being utterly wiped out because they obeyed the words of their great-grandfather. My great-grandfather, too, had left us an inheritance, and if we cherished it, we would be saved from the horrors of the world. I believed this.

Photo by Heritage Images/Getty Images

Lively debate

I was neither brainwashed nor raised in a cult. There is nothing more American than leaving the beaten path to make your own way, especially when it comes to religion.

The women in my family are too mouthy and bratty, myself included, for the family to ever have fallen into true patriarchal suppression. We were all encouraged to study our Bibles for ourselves and to test one another. When the family home-churched together, it was always lively.

Even I, at the ages of 10 through 14, would get pulled into the heated dialogue with religious opinions of my own, carefully researched and passionately presented. I was obsessed with writing theological essays during those years.

We were not cosplaying as Jews any more than Amish are LARPing as peasants. We were more interested in what the Bible had to say than the traditions of modern-day Jews. In fact, anything that was “traditional” must be too much like Catholicism. We didn’t want to follow customs, but the law of Yahweh.

Although my great-grandfather and grandfather invented our faith, there was room for fluidity. It has changed much over the years. My great-grandfather kept the Saturday Sabbath and refused welfare for his family although they were poor and had 13 children. They did not eat pork, but ate according to Leviticus 11. We call this eating kosher, but it’s more accurately referred to as eating “clean.”

My grandfather started using the “Sacred Names” to refer to God when my father was young and warned against “calling upon the name of Jesus” because Jesus, he argued, was another form of Zeus. We argued over whether to spell the Messiah’s name Yahshua or Yeshua. We never referred to God as “God” or “the Lord” because those, too, were pagan names. It was always “Father” or “Yahweh.”

Which Sabbath?

When I was 9 years old, my grandfather realized that Saturday was not the true Sabbath. He had discovered an idea called the Lunar Sabbath.

The Sabbath is determined by the phases of the moon. At the end of the month when the moon goes dark, the Sabbath is two or three days long until the new moon appears and resets the Sabbath. And so Sabbath might be on a Tuesday one month and then Wednesday or Thursday the next month. If it were cloudy, it might be difficult to see the moon, and sometimes we would be keeping Sabbath wrong for a week or so until we were able to clearly see what the sky said. It was also difficult for making plans and having social relationships.

When I was 14, I sat down and did a long study on the Sabbath using encyclopedias, various Bibles, and concordances. After three months I presented my research to my family. I explained the pros and cons for the Lunar Sabbath, Saturday Sabbath, and Sunday Sabbath. I had become convinced that Sunday was still not the true Sabbath and that we should stop doing the Lunar Sabbath and revert to Saturday. My parents and siblings could not argue with my evidence. We voted. After five years of living by the moon, we unanimously agreed to revert back to Saturday Sabbath.

This situation taught me several things: We were not a cult, but most of my family was intellectually incapable of interpreting scripture for themselves. It was cool that my family changed after my research. But also why hadn’t they studied this properly at the start? I was 14 years old, and yet I had convinced my parents to make a major theological change. This both inflated my ego and left me feeling insecure and unstable because I was truly alone and could not go to my parents for answers about God.

This is part one of a two-part essay. Part 2 will appear next week. It was adapted and edited for length from an essay that first appeared on the Substack Polite Company.

‘The Case for Miracles’: A stirring road trip into the heart of faith

Lee Strobel doesn’t mind those who question his midlife Christian conversion.

Strobel’s shift from an atheist to rock-ribbed Christian came to life in 2017’s “The Case for Christ.” The film, based on his life story, showed how Strobel’s efforts to debunk the resurrection of Jesus Christ as the legal editor of the Chicago Tribune had the opposite effect.

‘There is evidence that points — compelling [evidence] — to the truth of biblical miracles and contemporary supernatural encounters. I’m not afraid of that.’

He says his shoe-leather reporting confirmed the resurrection. Looking back, Strobel tells Align his change of heart ruffled some professional feathers.

“After I became a Christian at the Chicago Tribune, somebody told me later that they overheard somebody in the newsroom say, ‘What happened to Strobel? He became a Jesus freak, like, overnight,’” Strobel says, laughing.

Miracle miles

Now, Strobel is back on the big screen with “The Case for Miracles,” in select theaters Dec. 15-18 via Fathom Entertainment. The film finds Strobel and director Mani Sandoval hitting Route 66 in an old Ford Bronco to swap stories and reflect on modern-day miracles.

Among the most poignant? A young woman with severe multiple sclerosis who is able to leave her hospice bed following a crush of community prayers.

It’s part travelogue, part documentary, and Strobel only wishes he had time to share even more remarkable stories on-screen.

“We had to leave out so many good ones. ... We had another case documented by medical researchers ... a guy who was healed from a paralyzed stomach,” he says. “He was prayed for, felt an electric shock go through him, and for the first time was able to eat normally.”

“He’s fine to this day,” he adds. “It’s the only case in history of its kind of [someone] spontaneously healed from this stomach paralysis.”

Meeting in the middle

Strobel says the film offers two very different perspectives on modern-day miracles given the key players involved.

“Mani grew up in a Pentecostal home. There was an anticipation that the miraculous would take place,” he says. “I was an atheist [growing up].”

The film is based on Strobel’s 2018 book of the same name, but he hopes the Fathom Entertainment release reaches a broader audience beyond his loyal readers.

“I think that cinema is the language of young people,” he says. “If we want to share this account, this evidence of the miraculous with a young generation, what better way than on the big screen? Among younger people, there’s something about a film that register deeply with them. ... We should seize opportunities to communicate to those outside the faith.”

Blaze Media

Creative control

And the timing couldn’t be better. Faith-friendly films and TV shows are all the rage in today’s pop-culture landscape. Think the groundbreaking series “The Chosen,” along with the upcoming “Passion of the Christ” sequel from Mel Gibson.

Both Netflix and Prime Video are producing faith-friendly content, and recent hits like “Jesus Revolution” flexed the power of spiritual stories.

“It satisfies me on a creative level when I see films that deal with very important topics, like the existence in God, in a way that’s creative and that aren’t going to make people cringe but sit forward in their seat and anticipate what’s coming next,” he says.

And that creative explosion has only begun, Strobel predicts.

“In three, four, or maybe five years, we’re gonna see stuff where we say, ‘Oh, I never thought of doing that,’” he says of the genre.

The incredible made credible

Strobel isn’t a filmmaker by trade. He’s a busy writer, having penned more than 40 books that have been translated into 40 languages.

Strobel, like the late Charlie Kirk, doesn’t mind interacting with skeptics on- or off-screen. He welcomes it. The book on which “The Case for Miracles” is based starts with an extended dialogue with noted atheist Michael Shermer.

Strobel eventually befriended Shermer, who has a cameo in the film version of “Miracles.”

“I let him have his say,” he says of their early exchanges. Strobel is confident in his faith and the miracles he sees flowing through it.

“There is evidence that points — compelling [evidence] — to the truth of biblical miracles and contemporary supernatural encounters,” he says. “I’m not afraid of that.”

For Strobel, a miracle requires four key elements:

Solid medical documentation;

Multiple, credible eyewitnesses who have no motive to deceive;

A lack of natural explanation; and

An association with prayer.

Meet all four requirements, he says, “and maybe something miraculous is going on.”

Strobel doesn’t mind that some of his former colleagues may question his religious conversion. He’s comforted by the fact that he has company in that regard.

“I’ve seen so many journalists coming to faith. ... I think God is stirring something in the culture right now,” he says.

'Kevin Costner Presents: The First Christmas' brings scriptural authenticity to Nativity story

Director David L. Cunningham brought some old-school Disney magic to his latest project.

The Hollywood veteran recalled how Walt Disney often appeared on camera to personally introduce the projects closest to his heart, putting his unmistakable stamp on them.

'By taking out the hardship and the risk, you diminish the courage that Mary and Joseph had, their faith, and so much of the sacrifice.'

So when Cunningham envisioned a fresh, authentic take on the Christmas story, he wondered if another icon could do the honors. And, as fate would have it, his producing partner knew Kevin Costner personally.

The busy film legend agreed to join the project, with one caveat.

“He insisted on bringing his story into it … and the pieces fell together,” Cunningham tells Align.

'Unifying celebration'

“Kevin Costner Presents: The First Christmas,” debuting Dec. 9 at 8 p.m. ET on ABC before hitting Hulu the following day, does more than put the Christ back in Christmas.

The special lets Costner share some personal anecdotes regarding the earliest days of his acting career, including how he participated in a Christmas story production with less than Hollywood-style results.

He improved over time, of course.

“The First Christmas” introduces us to Mary and Joseph, a young couple facing incredible hardships along with the most important pregnancy … ever.

“The intent was to try and find a unifying celebration of the story,” Cunningham says. “Let’s all get behind what matters the most. Jesus was brought into this world in this amazing way. … The goal wasn’t to put a spin on something but to revisit the ancient texts and try to honor it as much as possible.”

Not too 'cozy'

“The First Christmas” pushes past misconceptions about the holiday, blending polished dramatic beats with commentary bringing critical context each step of the way. That approach worked well with the material, the director says, comparing the expert commentary to “miniature podcasts” that pop in between dramatic elements.

“We didn’t want a theological, wag-your-finger thing,” he notes, but he also wanted to remove the “cozy interpretations” many have of the Nativity.

“By taking out the hardship and the risk, you diminish the courage that Mary and Joseph had, their faith, and so much of the sacrifice,” he says.

“There’s nothing wrong with having the cozy little Nativity, with the angels looking on, but let’s go back and revisit this and say, ‘Hey, what does the Scripture say and why?’”

The special features “talking head” interstitials from voices stateside and beyond, echoing Christianity’s global reach and impact.

“The West doesn’t have the corner on the [Christian] market,” Cunningham says, noting a spiritual rise in Brazil and other nations in recent years.

Sticking to the text

Cunningham is no stranger to faith-based productions, starting with one of his earliest projects: 2001’s “To End All Wars.” The film recalled the fact-based story of Japanese POW camp captives who embraced God to both endure and forgive their captors.

Those experiences have given him insight into Christian projects that connect with the masses and, more importantly, ring true.

“When a biblical movie works, it sticks to the text,” he says with a chuckle. “It also helps to have people who are leading the charge who believe in it.”

Cunningham studied faith-based films in film school, noting how the industry “lost the plot” over the years regarding Christian projects.

“We felt as Christians that somehow entertainment and Hollywood was of the devil. We didn’t want anything to do with it,” he says. “We just walked away from one of the most influential platforms there is.”

Russell Moccasin

Cinematic revolution

That, of course, has changed dramatically over the past 20-odd years, from “The Passion of the Christ” to 2023’s “Sound of Freedom.” The clunky, low-budget stories of the recent past have been replaced by slick, soulful projects that reflect both faith and a dramatic upgrade in craftsmanship.

He name-checks “The Chosen” creator Dallas Jenkins and Jon and Andrew Erwin for being part of this cinematic revolution.

Cunningham also used his personal experiences to help inspire and shape “The First Christmas,” echoing what Costner brought to the project. He recalls his own days as a young father, with all the fear and uncertainty that came along with it.

“I’m walking out the door with this child. ... We had a car seat ready to go,” he says of his earliest hours as a parent. “Can you imagine a young couple in a cave when infant mortality was through the roof? Now you’re being born into this world that’s incredibly brutal and cruel. You’re a young couple, and by the way, that’s the Son of God.

“No pressure,” he says.