'Argument accepted': Dying 'Dilbert' creator and Trump ally Scott Adams says he's becoming a Christian



Scott Adams, the creator of the "Dilbert" comic strip and a frequent defender of President Donald Trump, revealed in May 2025 that he had been diagnosed with prostate cancer, it had metastasized to his bones, and he was not long for this world.

"The disease is already intolerable," said Adams. "So if you're wondering, 'Hey Scott, do you have any good days?' Nope. Nope. Every day is a nightmare, and evening is very worse."

'What happens next is between me and Jesus.'

While Adams had run out of good days, good news was on the horizon.

The 68-year-old cartoonist revealed on the Sunday episode of his show, "Real Coffee with Scott Adams," that he is converting to Christianity.

In November, Adams requested Trump's help in securing the prostate cancer drug Pluvicto for which his health care provider had apparently approved his application but "dropped the ball in scheduling the brief IV to administer it."

Trump and members of his administration indicated they were "on it" and apparently intervened on the cartoonist's behalf. However, Adams' potentially life-changing treatment was postponed last month on account of his radiation treatment.

Last week, Adams noted on his show that "the odds of me recovering are essentially zero."

In addition to suffering paralysis below the waist, Adams indicated that he is struggling to breathe on account of ongoing heart failure.

Days after telling his audience that January will probably be "a month of transition one way or the other," Adams made clear on Sunday that the imminent changes in his life were not all of a medical nature.

RELATED: Christian, what do you believe when faith stops being theoretical?

Photo by Bob Riha, Jr./Getty Images

"Many of my Christian friends and Christian followers say to me, 'Scott, you still have time. You should convert to Christianity.' And I usually just let that sit because that's not an argument I want to have," said Adams. "I've not been a believer. But I also have respect for any Christian who goes out of their way to try to convert me because how would I believe you and believe your own religion if you're not trying to convert me?"

'You're never too late.'

Evidently the efforts of Adams' friends were not in vain.

"You're going to hear for the first time today that it is my plan to convert," said Adams. "So I still have time. But my understanding is you're never too late. And on top of that, any skepticism I have about reality would certainly be instantly answered if I wake up in heaven."

Adams — who has long wrestled with questions about God and has been critical both of religion and atheism in his writing — notified his Christian friends that he does not require any more apologetics and has embraced what appears to be Catholic philosopher Blaise Pascal's argument for believing in God.

"I am now convinced that the risk-reward is completely smart. If it turns out that there's nothing there, I've lost nothing but I've respected your wishes, and I like doing that," said Adams. "If it turns out there is something there and the Christian model is the closest to it, I win."

"Argument made, argument accepted," added Adams.

In the wake of his announcement, Adams wrote on X that while he appreciates the outpouring of support and questions, "What happens next is between me and Jesus."

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Meet The Lutheran Kid From Wisconsin Taking The NBA By Storm

Knueppel has an opportunity to establish a powerful platform, one where a faith-first, servant-leader approach can achieve success at the highest level.

Christian, what do you believe when faith stops being theoretical?



Dietrich Bonhoeffer once wrote from a prison cell, “It is only by living completely in this world that one learns to have faith.” He wrote those words after the world had closed in, when faith could no longer remain theoretical.

I live with someone who understands exactly what he meant.

In those moments, belief stops being a feeling and becomes a claim. Not something you summon, but something you test.

My wife, Gracie, has lived with disabilities for virtually her entire life. Hospital rooms and operating schedules do not interrupt our life — they form its familiar terrain. Over time, suffering has stopped being a concept and become a place we recognize.

I also have a friend who understands what Bonhoeffer was describing.

Her name is Joni Eareckson Tada. A diving accident in her teens left her a quadriplegic. Her life has unfolded under paralysis, chronic pain, and illness. She does not approach suffering from a distance.

Last year, during one of Gracie’s long hospital stays, Joni called.

Most people asked about Gracie. Joni did too. But then she asked about me.

That question deserved more than a stock reply.

I paused.

Moments like that strip away emotional self-examination and force you to examine your claims instead.

As I spoke with Joni, I shared something that has steadied me for decades.

In our church, there came a moment when the pastor would stop, look out over the congregation, and ask a single question: “Christian, what do you believe?”

We did not improvise. We did not search for language that felt expressive or current. We stood and recited the Apostles’ Creed or the Nicene Creed. No personal spin. No tailoring belief to the moment. Just a clear declaration of what had been received.

That question stayed with me.

It returned again and again over the years, especially in places where explanations had lost their usefulness. I learned the limits of “why.” Even good answers rarely hold steady there.

In those moments, belief stops being a feeling and becomes a claim. Not something you summon, but something you test.

If Christ is who I say He is, then what does that require of me here?

I was not trying to manufacture courage or resolve. I was asking whether the faith I professed in calm settings could bear weight when standing itself cost something.

“Christian, what do you believe?”

Over time, many of the questions I once carried narrowed to that one. Not because the pain diminished or the losses stopped coming, but because belief, when real, clarifies responsibility.

The apostle Peter tells believers to be ready to give an answer for the hope within them. That readiness has nothing to do with eloquence. It comes from knowing where you stand.

As a new year begins, many caregivers feel little sense of reset, except for the deductible and the co-pay.

Some stand outside an ICU, looking through glass at someone they love. Others stand in different hallways, facing different kinds of loss. Different rooms. The same ache.

RELATED: Do not pass the plow: The danger of declaring a golden age without repentance

John J. Kim/Chicago Tribune/Tribune News Service via Getty Images

Bonhoeffer did not write from a place of safety or control. He wrote from confinement, where faith could no longer remain theoretical. Many recognize that narrowing, the sense that life has closed in and the ground beneath you has given way.

Faith is learned there, not discussed.

Exhaustion thins memory. Words scatter. Not everyone can recall creeds when sleep runs short and decisions carry real weight. But belief does not measure itself by recall. It reveals itself by posture.

When the floor gives way, you still need to know where to stand.

If He is Lord at all, then He is Lord of all.

Not only of sanctuaries, but of hospital corridors.

Not only of strength, but of weakness.

Not only of moments we would choose, but of moments we would never script.

That confession does not remove pain. It does not explain every loss. But it does tell us where to stand when the world presses in.

And when glass separates you from the one you love, whatever room that glass happens to be in, the question does not stay abstract.

It turns personal.

Christian, what do you believe?

A supernatural encounter with Jesus saved his life — now he’s reaching a generation



Bryce Crawford is an evangelist whose supernatural encounter with Jesus not only stopped him from taking his own life, but has catapulted him into a position where he’s helping transform a generation.

“I became a Christian when I was 17. I had depression and anxiety for years. Grew up in a Christian environment, went to a Christian school, but I had a supernatural encounter with Jesus when I was 17. Stopped me from taking my life,” Crawford tells BlazeTV host Allie Beth Stuckey at AmFest.

This happened in 2020, when Crawford had gone to Waffle House for his “death row meal” on Christmas Day.


“I went to Waffle House, and I was at this table. No one preached to me. No one shared the gospel with me. The total opposite happened actually. This grown man dumped his life issues on me, and he said, ‘I’m losing my wife. She’s divorcing me and taking my kids,’” he explains.

“And then he said, ‘There’s no growth in a relationship if the love isn’t mutual.’ And when he said that, time stopped. And I had learned about Jesus all my life. ... And for the first time, I thought to myself, maybe I don’t know God loves me because I haven’t given myself a chance to love him back,” he says.

“And so I prayed a crazy prayer. I said, ‘Jesus, if you’re real, take away my anxiety and depression because this is the reason why I want to take my life,’ and I haven’t had that crippling anxiety or depression since that day. It’s been almost five years,” he continues.

This was what led Crawford to Christianity and ultimately where he is now — preaching the gospel.

“The Bible says we plant seeds and water seeds. It’s not my job to save anyone. It’s not your job to save anyone. And so I found listening and being intentional with people is the greatest tool of evangelism,” he says. “It’s not love-bombing. It’s just caring about people.”

Want more from Allie Beth Stuckey?

To enjoy more of Allie’s upbeat and in-depth coverage of culture, news, and theology from a Christian, conservative perspective, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution, and live the American dream.

Lisa Harper's heartbreaking yet miraculous adoption journey reduces the Robertsons to tears on 'Unashamed'



Throughout scripture, God, who calls Himself a “father to the fatherless,” pulls no punches about His heart toward orphans: They are to be cared for.

Many faithful believers choose to live out this holy commandment through the adoption of a child. But while the redemption of a broken situation is a beautiful and joyful thing to behold, few talk about the pain that often accompanies adoption.

On this episode of “Unashamed,” the Robertsons speak with bestselling author and podcaster Lisa Harper about her adoption story.

After hearing a sermon on the passage in James about the importance of widow and orphan care, Lisa, a single woman in her 40s at the time, felt convicted to act.

After several years of wrestling, Lisa found herself prepared to adopt a baby from Haiti. “I got written into a story of a precious little girl who was a crack addict and had gotten pregnant,” says Lisa, noting that she “spent Christmas that year in a crack house.”

Right before she was set to bring her baby home, however, the adoption “fell apart at the 11th hour.”

Lisa returned home utterly crushed.

But two weeks later, something miraculous happened. Lisa received a phone call from a friend who was in Haiti working on building a communal kitchen to help feed children in a particular village. While she was there, a young mother in the village died of AIDS, leaving behind a sickly daughter with no one to care for her.

She told Lisa that the Lord spoke to her “clear as a bell in that ER room ... ’Lisa Harper's supposed to be that little girl's mama.’”

Lisa, still mourning the loss of the first child, boldly and faithfully said, “Sign me up.”

“Missy’s 16 now, healthy as a horse,” Lisa says through tears. “She's not my hope. Jesus is my hope, but she is tangible grace.”

“Missy does not have an orphan spirit. I had an orphan’s spirit,” she says, recalling her years of wrestling with feeling undeserving of God’s invitation to be part of his eternal family.

By the end of Lisa’s story, Jase, Al, and Zach Dasher are all wiping tears from their eyes. To hear it in full, watch the episode above.

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Are we about to complete the Great Commission and unleash the End Times?



The Great Commission, most famously recorded in the Gospel of Matthew, was Jesus’ final instruction to His disciples before His resurrected body ascended into heaven.

In Matthew 28:18-20, after gathering them on a mountain in Galilee, He said: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

Since that command was given roughly 2,000 years ago, generation after generation of faithful Christians have been bringing the gospel message to every corner of the world. Today, that mission is nearly complete, says entrepreneur, Christian ministry leader, and author Douglas Cobb, who just published a book on this subject titled “The Sprint to the Finish: The Global Push to Complete the Great Commission in This Generation.”

Less than 100 unreached people groups remain; Bible translation organizations project that 100% of the global population will have access to the Bible or key parts of Scripture by 2033; right now, mission networks are planting churches in the last untouched regions on Earth.

We are inching ever closer to fulfilling the Great Commission — a precursor to Christ’s final return.

On this episode of the “Steve Deace Show,” Deace and Cobb discuss this question: Are we living in the generation that will finish the mission Jesus gave His church?

“Jesus said in Matthew 24:14: ‘This gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come,’” Cobb recites.

“As I read the Bible, it’s one of the most, if not the most, direct promise about the timing of Jesus’ return. He’s given us a mission to take the gospel to the whole world, and when we’re finished with it, that will open the door to His return. I don’t think He’ll come back until we’ve done that,” he tells Deace.

But the crazy thing is, we’re on the verge of doing it. The people alive right now might just be “the ones that finish this race,” Cobb says.

“Based on my understanding, I think we’re within a year or two of seeing the ‘every nation’ finish line crossed, and what I mean by that is, gospel work begun in every people group,” he continues.

According to the Finishing Fund — an organization Cobb started to accelerate the fulfillment of the Great Commission — the list of unreached people groups who “do not have a gospel program, a gospel effort under way” is “well under 100,” he says.

“The folks who work on Bible translation — the second finish line — have set 2033 as their deadline for the completion of the Bible in every language on the planet. And another group that I’m a part of, the ACHIEVE Alliance ... [is] pursuing the ‘every place’ finish line, and similarly, they are working toward a 2033 goal for that effort of a church in every place everywhere,” he adds.

“We’re down to under 10 years on all three finish lines.”

To hear more, watch the video above.

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Chosen at 13 to be the pastor’s ‘maiden’: Sex-cult survivor shares her horrifying story



When Lindsay Tornambe was just 11 years old, her parents and four siblings moved out to remote Minnesota to join a religious compound called River Road Fellowship. The group was led by a man named Victor Barnard, who claimed that God had ordained him to gather and shepherd the fragmented people of the Way International — a deeply heretical “Christian” sect — after its founder Victor Paul Wierwille died in 1985.

At first, things were almost idyllic. Lindsay spent her days playing with the other kids, tending to animals, and skating on the frozen lake. But it wasn’t long before Barnard’s sinister intentions shattered the pastoral facade he had created, condemning Lindsay and other victims to years-long servitude in a sex cult.

On this episode of “Relatable,” Allie Beth Stuckey interviews Lindsay about her decade as a “maiden” in a cult whose leader is currently serving a 30-year prison sentence.

After secretly grooming Lindsay, Victor, who had taken off his wedding ring, claiming he was “married to the church” like Christ, reportedly preached a sermon from the passage in Exodus where God commands the Israelites to “give” Him their firstborns, meaning redemption through small payments or temple service.

As many cult leaders do, however, Victor reportedly twisted the passage to mean that parents must literally give their firstborn daughters over to him.

“He read off a list of names. Mine was on there,” says Lindsay.

This all happened during the early 2000s, amid lingering influences from the 1999 “Summer of Love” — a notorious period in the Way International when leadership allegedly encouraged widespread sexual promiscuity among members, including married people, as a supposed expression of “God's love.”

Victor, however, didn’t frame the girls’ role as sexual. They were merely being asked to serve Christ and the church. Lindsay, after seeing her friends eagerly volunteer, consented to being a “maiden,” having no idea what awaited her.

She, along with nine other young girls, was then removed from her family home and taken to live in Victor’s private living compound. The maidens were assigned different duties, like gardening, cooking, cleaning, and assisting Victor with various tasks, many of which were intimate.

“Things in the beginning were kind of okay,” says Lindsay, noting that she initially believed her time as a maiden was temporary.

“I was under the impression that I would serve there and live at the camp ... and then I would go home and be homeschooled,” she says.

But a shepherdess who helped oversee the young girls told 13-year-old Lindsay, who had expressed excitement about returning home to her family, that her role as a maiden was a lifetime commitment. “You're not going home. This is your home now," she said.

“It was shortly after that that I was raped by Victor for the first time,” says Lindsay, adding that he justified his actions by claiming that “Jesus Christ had Mary Magdalene and the apostle Paul had Phoebe” as sexual partners.

He also claimed that “even though he would be having sex with me, I could remain a virgin spiritually,” she adds.

This abuse, which was often accompanied by physical and emotional abuse, lasted for years, she says.

Eventually, fear and manipulation brainwashed Lindsay into believing she genuinely loved her captor. “One thing that Victor would tell us is that the more we dedicated ourselves to him in this life and to God, the better place in heaven we would have, and so I think the thought of not being in heaven with the maidens and with Victor really scared me,” she says.

But Lindsay’s sympathetic view of Victor was a ticking time bomb.

In 2008, after most of the girls had been moved to another remote location in Washington state, one of the maidens was deported to Brazil after her student visa expired. Victor sent other maidens to live for temporary periods in Brazil alongside her.

When it was Lindsay’s turn to go, she was exposed to the outside world for the first time since her family had joined the commune. The taste of freedom was intoxicating.

When she returned to Washington, the maidens had started their own cleaning business. As a housemaid, Lindsay got another taste of life outside the cult, as she studied family pictures on walls and heard secular music drifting from radios.

This view of the outside world had already begun to sour Lindsay’s feelings for Victor, but then news came that he, still legally married to his wife, who lived next door to him, had been sleeping with married women in the community.

In Minnesota, it is against the law for pastors to have sexual relations with their congregants, so one of the women in the commune reported Victor to the police and even shared some information about his “maidens,” forcing him to flee. The infidelity broke up the original commune in Minnesota, sending Lindsay’s family back to their home state.

Lindsay, deeply disturbed by Victor’s philandering but still unaware of her own abuse, decided she was done being a maiden. Even though fellow maidens and Victor pleaded with her to stay — calling her Judas and accusing her of not loving God — Lindsay’s mind was made up.

She called her parents, who were still committed to the Way International and Victor, and they agreed to allow her to come home.

“They gave me $500 and bought me a train ticket, and I took Amtrak all the way from Washington state to 30th Street Station in Philadelphia,” says Lindsay.

Re-entering secular society at 23 proved difficult and confusing for Lindsay. “At that point, I thought the only way to make a man happy was to sleep with him, and so I slept around a lot. I lived in a lot of sin,” she says.

“I just was really interested in exploring and living life and making friends and getting away from my parents, because they were still supporting Victor.”

While her outside life looked fun and exciting, Lindsay’s internal world grew darker over the years, as she reckoned with her past life in the cult.

“I just kept thinking over and over again: If God is a God of love that I read and believed for so long, why would he let this happen to me? If heaven is so great, why don't I kill myself now and not live in this internal pain that I feel?” she admits.

To quell the pain, Lindsay experimented with a gamut of “remedies” — self-love programs, crystals, witchcraft, even self-harm.

“I always came up feeling so empty, so unsatisfied,” she says.

But despite Lindsay’s doubt and sin, God was working in ways she couldn’t see. Single motherhood, unexpected friendships, and perfect timing wove together and allowed Lindsay to distinguish the real God from the phony one who had been used to warp and manipulate her as a child.

To hear the beautiful story of Lindsay’s redemption, including where her family is today and the trial that landed Victor behind bars, watch the full interview above.

Want more from Allie Beth Stuckey?

To enjoy more of Allie’s upbeat and in-depth coverage of culture, news, and theology from a Christian, conservative perspective, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution, and live the American dream.

Forget 'Die Hard' — 'Brazil' is the ultimate Christmas movie



The cultural powers that be determined long ago that a film needn’t deal directly with the Nativity of our Lord and Savior to qualify as a “Christmas movie.”

Many films apparently qualify simply by virtue of their plot events’ proximity to December 25, their festive backdrops, and their occasional visual reference to Coca-Cola Claus, starred pines, and/or the birth of God.

In a way, the Christmas imagery does visually what the movie’s eponymous theme song does sonically: tease at something lovely and wonderful beyond the nightmare.

Rest assured as the bare-footed cop wastes German terrorists at his estranged wife’s office party; as the two burglars repeatedly fall prey to an abandoned adolescent’s mutilatory traps; and as the inventor’s son unwittingly turns his Chinatown-sourced present into a demon infestation — these are indeed Christmas movies.

Given the genre’s flexible criteria, Terry Gilliam’s 1985 masterpiece “Brazil” also qualifies.

State Santa

In truth, the Python alumnus’ film about a bureaucrat’s maddening investigation of his totalitarian government’s execution of the wrong man is a far stronger entry than “Die Hard,” “Home Alone,” “Gremlins,” and other such flicks.

Not only is there Christmastime imagery throughout, but such visuals are also of great importance, providing insights both into the treachery of the film’s principal antagonist — the state — as well as into what appears missing in Gilliam’s dystopian world.

In the opening scene, a man pushes a cart full of wrapped presents past a storefront window framed by tinsel and crowded with “Merry Christmas” signage, television sets, and baubles.

Next we enter an apartment where a mother reads “A Christmas Carol” to her daughter, a father wraps a present, and a boy plays at the foot of a well-dressed evergreen.

After numerous scenes featuring gift exchanges, mutterings of “Happy Christmas," and Christmas trees, we meet a kindly faced man dressed as Santa.

Jingle hells

This is, however, no feel-good Christmas movie.

The storefront window is firebombed.

Armored police storm into the family’s apartment, jab a rifle in the father’s gut, and take him away in a bag while his wife screams in horror.

The gifts exchanged and piling up throughout the film — besides the offers of job promotions and plastic surgery — appear to all be versions of the same novelty device, a meaningless “executive decision-maker.”

The kindly faced man dressed as Santa is a propaganda-spewing government official who rolls into the protagonist Sam Lowry’s padded cell on a wheelchair to inform Lowry — played by Jonathan Pryce — that his fugitive lover is dead.

With exception to the heart-warming domestic scene interrupted by the totalitarian bureaucracy’s jackboots at the beginning of the film, the Christmas imagery rings hollow and for good reason.

Extra to dehumanizing workplaces, purposefully meaningless work, bureaucratic red tape, and paperwork that’s so bad it ends up killing Robert DeNiro’s character — at least by the tortured protagonist’s account — the regime’s population-control scheme relies on consumerism.

The regime has, accordingly, done its apparent best to empty Christmas of the holy day’s real significance and meaning, donning it as a costume to sell and control.

RELATED: Santa Claus: Innocent Christmas fun or counterfeit Jesus?

Beyond the nightmare

“Brazil” is not, however, an anti-Christmas film.

The emptiness of the costume prompts reflection about its proper filling — a reflection that should invariably lead one to Christ.

In a way, the Christmas imagery does visually what the movie’s eponymous theme song does sonically: tease at something lovely and wonderful beyond the nightmare Gilliam once dubbed “Nineteen Eighty-Four-and-a-Half.”

“I had this vision of a radio playing exotic music on a beach covered in coal dust, inspired by a visit to the steel town of Port Talbot. Originally the song I had in mind was Ry Cooder’s 'Maria Elena,' but later I changed it to 'Aquarela do Brasil' by Ary Barroso,” Gilliam told the Guardian.

“The idea of someone in an ugly, despairing place dreaming of something hopeful led to Sam Lowry, trapped in his bureaucratic world, escaping into fantasy.”

Whereas the recurrent theme from the samba references a fantasy the regime can crush, the various indirect reminders that Christmas is about more than presents and half-hearted niceties reference a hidden truth and source of eternal hope: that God was born in Bethlehem.

MTG Says Trump Isn’t A Real Christian

'He does not have any faith'