How Trump’s Victory Affects The Civil War In Evangelicalism

Evangelical leaders have increasingly aligned with the leftist ruling class, while many in the pews maintain more conservative views.

Did Russell Moore just call Allie Beth Stuckey a Nazi?



Pro-lifers have been thrown behind bars for peacefully protesting the killing of unborn babies at abortion clinics, and Allie Beth Stuckey of “Relatable” has seen it for what it is.

It’s the persecution of Christians, which she explained in a post on X (formerly known as Twitter) as “the least of these.”

“‘The least of these’ is referring to persecuted Christians, not the poor. So, I’m voting for the set of policies that will best protect the truly least of these: Jack Phillips, Joan Bell, David Daleiden & other believers who have had their lives ruined by progressive activists. No chance I could vote for the party that routinely targets Christians for harassment, discrimination & lawfare,” Stuckey wrote.

“I hear a lot from Christians who are voting Democrat that they are voting for the least of these, they are voting for the most vulnerable, they’re voting for the poor, and they see the Democrat Party as the party that is helping these communities,” she says.


However, Stuckey believes these Democrats are outsourcing their compassion to the government. And that’s impossible, as even under the current administration that talks as if it champions the poor, you will go to jail if you can’t afford to pay your taxes.

While her criticism of Democrat voting was a sound one, Russell Moore, the editor in chief of Christianity Today, went so far as to call her a “Nazi.”

“If one is embarrassed by the miracles or morality of Jesus, one can always demythologize him with all the fervor of a 19th-century German scholar. If one is embarrassed by the compassion or empathy of Jesus, one can demythologize him there too, with all the frenzy of a 20th-century German soldier,” Moore wrote in a recent article.

Moore went on to say that “when confronted with the suffering of human beings around you, making the point that those who are suffering are less than ‘the least of these’ is no argument at all.”

“He is presupposing that I am arguing that Christians are never to care for the poor, or that the Bible never tells us to care for the poor, or that Jesus never tells us to care for the poor. That was not my argument. That is not even close to what I said,” Stuckey says.

“Russell Moore is saying that because of this interpretation,” she continues, “that I am like these soldiers that put Jewish children into gas chambers. Like I just want us to really feel the weight of his words there, because just because you are good at words, just because you are a wordsmith, doesn’t mean that you can throw out comparisons to a 20th-century German soldier flippantly.”

“I just want to sit in this for a second. He just likened me, a mom of three, trying to navigate the craziness of our culture, which with as much clarity and courage as God can give me, someone that he disagrees with politically and I guess theologically, to a soldier who placed innocent Jewish children and babies in concentration camps.”

“That’s how Russell Moore, the editor in chief of Christianity Today, functions, argues, disagrees with a believer,” she adds.

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Children's Crusade: The folly of hoping your kids 'Christianize' public school



The year is 1212. You’re standing on board a ship that’s taking you to Jerusalem. At least you hope it is. You’re exhausted and hungry. You’ve already watched half of your friends and companions die along the way. You’re not really sure any more if this is a good idea, but you still believe in the cause that brought you here — retaking the Holy Land. You are 8 years old.

The Children’s Crusade may not have taken place exactly in 1212, but it did happen in the early 1200s. It’s a common myth that it was an official crusade — the Holy See never authorized it. Rather, it was an attempt by desperate Christian parents to retake the Holy Land from what they saw as godless heathens.

It’s the job of parents to try to control their children’s rate of exposure to ideas that will challenge their fledgling beliefs, while also being diligent about their spiritual formation. You cannot do that if you send your children to public school.

Another Children’s Crusade is happening in public schools today and every day, and it’s being championed by Christianity Today.

Self-congratulatory nonsense

In a recent article, theology editor Stefani McDade encourages Christian parents to consider sending their children to the dangerous heathen lands controlled by the U.S. Department of Education.

“Our daughter is just a toddler, so she’s not in school yet, and it’s possible something in the next few years will lead us to change our minds. But, for now, my husband and I have decided to send her to public school,” McDade writes.

What a load of self-congratulatory nonsense. It’s hilarious that McDade doesn’t have school-age children but is telling you how to navigate your child’s education. Her article is a classic case of thinking you know everything about parenting when you haven’t experienced the majority of it. We’re all perfect parents until we actually have children and reality slaps us in the face.

A mother I know once told me that as your kids age, so do the problems. I have found this to be absolutely true.

McDade tries to muster some authority by recounting her own school years, detailing the variety of schooling options she experienced as a child. She laments how awkward she felt transferring from homeschool in Florida to a Washington state public middle school. “Most of my time in middle school was spent figuring out how to fit in,” McDade wrote. Who didn’t feel awkward during those formative years, much less when you move from one coast to another?

Schools have changed

“While researching this piece, I asked my parents how they had made their schooling decisions each time they moved," McDade writes. "They said they’d weighed the quality of available education against the influence of the local atmosphere — pretty much as most parents do. And it wasn’t until I was approaching high school, they said, that warnings against the 'dangers' of public education really started to influence their Christian circles."

I appreciate the thought her parents put into each stage of her education, but that was 20 years ago. In the intervening time, schools, especially public schools, have gone to hell in a handbasket.

The lions' den

All you have to do is open TikTok, X, or Facebook, and within a matter of minutes you'll see a barrage of videos and posts that tell you what things are really like in the public school system:

And what happens to these out-of-control children? Even if they’re sent to administration, likely nothing. They might even return to class with a snack. I taught public school for 13 years. I have stories.

And in the meantime, where are the Christian kids in all of this? Where are the videos of the Christian kids standing up and converting the nonbelievers? I haven’t seen any.

Salt and light?

I don’t doubt the power of God to use all things for our good, but I do doubt the judgment of any Christian parents who continue to subject their children to this kind of environment because they feel like their kids will be the salt and light in the situation. That is putting a burden on children they are not spiritually ready to bear.

Most adults wouldn’t know how to respond to these kinds of situations. And let’s be honest, if this were happening between grown people, the instigator probably wouldn’t be punished either. If you don’t believe me, look up how many violent criminals get a slap on the hand and are sent back into society.

It’s a fool's errand to think that our Christian children can turn the tide of our culture on their own. Christian adults aren’t even fighting the good fight inside their churches.

In a climate in which pastors recite the “the Sparkle Creed” — a blasphemous LGBTQIABBQ spin on the ancient Nicene Creed — wear Planned Parenthood stoles on Sunday, and speculate that Jesus would gladly walk women into their abortion appointments, I’m not sure active hatred of Christians is even necessary any more. The call is coming from inside the house.

Christians in denial

McDade proposes that “recent research has shown that vitriol toward religion generally and Christians specifically has significantly declined over the last decade or so.” I doubt this, given that the Biden-Harris administration is locking up old ladies for praying in abortion clinics and Clara Jefferey of Mother Jones just had a public meltdown because a flight attendant wished her a “blessed" night.

Bless her heart. My fellow Southerners know what I mean.

McDade says she wants her child to experience challenges to her faith while she is still at home and McDade and her husband can “guide her through the pitfalls of our fallen world.”

OK, but your child won’t be at home. Your child will be at school, and unless you also work there and plan to sit in the classroom with the child like a creeper all day, you are assuming the child will come home and tell you everything.

I can tell you from experience that this is not the case. Our oldest child was having some mild problems at our Christian homeschool co-op last year, and by the time he finally told us about it, he was already done and didn’t want to go back. You cannot send your children anywhere and then assume you’ll hear every detail about it at home so that you and your child can have a therapy session.

And if you do, you’d better be prepared — you may have to talk about some things way sooner than you really care to. My hairstylist told me a story of her daughter going to kindergarten here in rural Tennessee and within weeks coming home to ask this question: “Mommy, what’s a lesbian?” I don’t know about you, but I think kindergarten is a little too young to be talking about sexual preferences.

Homeschooled does not equal 'sheltered'

If you think that the way I parent sounds like a sheltered existence, I have another news flash for you: Homeschool children ARE exposed to the world. The world is way more invasive now than ever. You only have to turn on the television for five minutes and children will be exposed to many alternative lifestyles.

I remember a few years ago watching "The Voice" at my parents’ house when a contestant came on stage with pink hair and an androgynous look. My then-7-year-old son asked, “Mommy, is that a man or a woman?” After some gentle back-and-forth, we changed the channel.

How many risque commercials have you seen in the last week? HIV drugs get advertised during prime watching hours. How many inappropriate YouTube commercials have you seen while watching videos with your child? And have you seen any music videos lately? Innocuous activities have been invaded by the endless sexualization of our culture.

It’s the job of parents to try to control their children’s rate of exposure to ideas that will challenge their fledgling beliefs, while also being diligent about their spiritual formation. You cannot do that if you send your children to public school. Yes, God is everywhere, but so are the forces of evil.

There are good people in the public school system. I spent 13 years working in it, and for most of my former colleagues, I have nothing but good things to say. However, when you sign up to work in or attend the public schools, you have to remember that it is a system.

The classroom does not belong to the teacher or to the students who enter its doors. It’s a cog in the machine that is the American education system, and you only have to spend a few minutes on social media to see that machine doesn’t work well.

And if John Taylor Gatto is right, that’s by design. In his works "Dumbing Us Down" and "Weapons of Mass Instruction," Gatto explains that what seems like malfunction to the rest of us is actually intentional.

Duty to resist

Christian or not, if you’re a parent, you have to decide if you’re OK with your kids becoming fodder for a machine that produces an intentionally terrible product. But especially for Christian parents, do not delude yourself that your children are going to change the system. As Jim Rohn says, “You're the average of the five people you spend the most time with.”

In a recent interview with Tucker Carlson, Robert Kennedy Jr. said, “We all have a duty to resist in whatever way is going to be most effective in resisting the tyranny.” If you’re interested in standing up against the machine, homeschooling is the best way that you as parents can resist.

I’m going to keep resisting the tyranny. You should consider it too, Stefani McDade.

3 Ways Democrats Manipulate Christians’ Goodwill For Partisan Ends

[rebelmouse-proxy-image https://thefederalist.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Screenshot-2024-09-23-at-11.03.02 AM-1200x675.png crop_info="%7B%22image%22%3A%20%22https%3A//thefederalist.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Screenshot-2024-09-23-at-11.03.02%5Cu202fAM-1200x675.png%22%7D" expand=1]Why are Christians carrying water for the left?

Richard Nixon vs. God



Mention Richard Nixon and what first comes to mind is his Machiavellian cunning. Here is a man for whom power — acquiring it, maintaining it, and wielding it against his enemies — came first, right up until his brutal downfall.

But there was another, equally powerful force driving America's 37th president: his conflicted yet sincere Christian faith. Far from being a one-dimensional political animal, Nixon was a man deeply entangled in a lifelong struggle with God.

People don't think Nixon was religious. And he's not if you think ‘religion’ means ‘moral,’ ‘pious,’ or ‘loves to go to church.’

This struggle, as Daniel Silliman’s new biography, "One Lost Soul: Richard Nixon's Search for Salvation," reveals, shaped his actions and haunted his conscience until his final days.

Wm. B. Eerdmans

Hidden tensions

Silliman, an editor at Christianity Today, carefully peels back the layers of Nixon’s public persona to expose the spiritual tensions beneath.

Nixon’s quest for divine guidance, according to Silliman, was not a peripheral aspect of his life but central to his personal drama. This internal conflict, often overshadowed by his public scandals, is crucial to understanding the tragic dimensions of his story.

Even on the eve of his resignation, Nixon sought solace in prayer, overwhelmed by the weight of his sorrow and the collapse of his career. But as Silliman points out, Nixon's glance toward heaven wasn’t a desperate, last-minute attempt at redemption. It wasn’t some cheap Hail Mary.

On the contrary, it was a practice ingrained in him from his earliest days.

Religious roots

Nixon’s religious journey began with his Quaker upbringing. Raised in a household that emphasized simplicity, integrity, and self-discipline, these values laid the foundation for his early worldview.

However, his relationship with these ideals was far from straightforward. His father, a stern man, and his devout mother instilled in him a sense of duty and moral rigor that would shape his complex relationship with faith.

His marriage to Thelma Catherine “Pat” Ryan, raised Methodist, further rooted him in a faith that offered both support and stress. Nixon’s associations with two influential religious figures — Billy Graham and Norman Vincent Peale — would later play pivotal roles in shaping not just his personal struggles but also his political decisions and moral outlook.

Graham, the famous Baptist evangelist, was perhaps the most significant religious influence in Nixon’s life. Their friendship, which began in the early 1950s, was a powerful intersection of faith and politics.

Graham, with his mission to bring Christianity to the masses, embodied a form of religious authenticity and moral authority that Nixon deeply admired. However, at the same time, Graham’s unwavering commitment to moral purity often clashed with Nixon’s political pragmatism. Unsurprisingly, this created a tension that highlighted the disparity between Graham’s rigid ideals and Nixon’s actions.

Positive thinking

Norman Vincent Peale, a Presbyterian minister famous for his "power of positive thinking," offered Nixon a different kind of religious guidance. Peale’s teachings, which emphasized optimism and self-belief, resonated with Nixon’s ambitious nature. Moreover, in addition to providing him with a psychological framework, they also offered a roadmap for navigating the treacherous terrain of U.S. politics.

Peale’s philosophy was less about repentance and salvation and more about overcoming adversity through the sheer force of positivity. It was more Tony Robbins than Thomas Aquinas. This approach offered Nixon a “better” way to maintain his public image and manage the compounding pressures of his career.

However, Peale’s teachings also presented a paradox of sorts for Nixon. The contrast between Peale’s optimism and Nixon’s personal experiences of failure and moral compromise created a deep internal conflict.

While the power of positive thinking helped Nixon project a resilient public persona, it often clashed with the reality of his darker impulses and the ethical ambiguities that defined his political career.

A man in full

According to Silliman, none of this makes sense without reference to Nixon's spiritual battles. As he told Align, “People don't think Nixon was religious. And he's not if you think ‘religion’ means ‘moral,’ ‘pious,’ or ‘loves to go to church.’ But he's very religious if you think one of the things that means is someone struggling with God.”

“Nixon,” he added, “wrestled with the core Christian idea of God's grace his entire life. I argue that struggle is essential to who he was, and in the book, I show how it explains his great successes and his tragic humiliation.”

In Silliman's view, Nixon's inner, existential struggle with God is the key to understanding the man in full — and inseparable from his specific place in American history. By seeing Nixon in the context of America's mid-20th-century religious currents — most notably, the rise ofCold War Christianity and the impact of evangelical literature — Silliman presents a compellingly nuanced portrait of a complicated figure.

Like all of us, Nixon was far from flawless. Yet, the portrayal of him as a calculating villain fails to capture the full scope of his true character. Yes, his transgressions served his political ambition, but what did that ambition serve?

Silliman ventures an explanation. "I am not a crook," Nixon famously protested. Whether or not he truly believed this, Silliman suggests, he never managed to shake a deeper guilt: the guilt of a hopeless sinner in desperate need of redemption.

No Forgiveness For Pandemic Sins Until The Guilty Repent

The people who abused their power and imposed tyranny during the pandemic will do it again if we don’t hold them accountable.

When Christian Leaders Capitulate On Marriage, Innocent Children Suffer

What French never acknowledges and Dalrymple barely considers is what happens after weddings. But that is when the harm becomes most evident.

NIH Director Francis Collins Isn’t A National Treasure, He’s A National Disgrace

The retirement of the director of the National Institutes of Health inspired a rush of accolades from Christian pundits, but Collins supports killing the unborn and disabled, and has attacked the right to worship.