A new Pew study suggests the steep decline in Christianity is finally “leveling off,” as if that’s a cause for celebration. It’s not. The damage is done. Entire generations have grown up with no real catechesis, no spiritual formation, and no sense of the sacred.

But make no mistake: This isn’t happening because the church refused to modernize. It’s happening because it did.

If the apostles walked into half these churches today, they wouldn’t smile or applaud. They’d flip tables.

For decades, the great institutions of Western Christianity traded clarity for relevance and truth for tone. Sermons stopped warning and started pandering. The word “sin” was quietly retired, considered too sharp for modern ears. In its place came talk of “journeys,” “growth,” and whatever else kept the collection plate full. The church, once feared by tyrants and hated by the powerful, rebranded itself as a wellness center with great art.

The cross became a prop. The sacraments became optional. The faith became a product: Clean, inoffensive, entirely forgettable.

It wasn’t outreach — it was surrender.

Internal sabotage

In Germany, Bishop Gregor Maria Hanke recently stepped down. Not in disgrace but in exhaustion, drained by a church more obsessed with synodal committees and gender equity audits than with souls. In England, Rowan Williams, the former archbishop of Canterbury, now sounds like a man trying to apologize for ever having believed anything at all. His God is not the Lion of Judah, but a poetic abstraction — something you might ponder over tea with the New Atheists, whom he now openly sympathizes with in the New York Times. Under his influence, Anglicanism traded its spine for softness, turned cathedrals into museums, and watched belief crumble under the weight of constant theological retreat.

One is Catholic, the other Protestant. Different branches, same disease: a church more eager to appease the culture than to challenge it.

Let’s call this what it is: Internal sabotage — and it’s everywhere.

The crisis facing Christianity isn’t secularism but cowardice. Many argue that the culture has conquered the church. But I argue instead that the church surrendered. A church that’s afraid to offend cannot save, command allegiance, inspire sacrifice, or offer truth.

It fades, not with a bang, but with a bow — one retreat at a time. First on marriage, then on sin, then on the very uniqueness of Christ. By the time it gets to the resurrection, no one’s listening, and even the preacher isn’t sure he believes it.

Exhibit A

You see this collapse most clearly in the rise of cafeteria Catholicism, the unofficial religion of the spiritually lukewarm, the pick-and-choose faithful. They love the incense and the music, the ashes and the Advent calendars, but deny the church’s authority and rewrite morality to match whatever’s trending on TikTok. They cross themselves at Mass, then applaud abortion at the ballot box. They genuflect before the altar only to kneel again at the altar of “inclusion.”

Jesus, to them, was a nice guy. So was Buddha. And really, who are we to judge?

It’s not faith. Not really. It’s branding. And like all branding, it demands nothing and means even less. These are people who want the comfort of religion without the burden of obedience. A God who affirms, not one who commands. A God who blesses their choices, not reshapes them. A God who whispers sweet nothings instead of thundering truth.

But a gospel that never tests is a gospel that never transforms. And a church that never says “no” is a church no one takes seriously.

For years, church leadership has whispered that hell is probably empty, celibacy is optional, and the Eucharist is just a metaphor if that’s easier for you to stomach.

So it’s no surprise that millions now treat Christianity like a salad bar: A little resurrection, hold the repentance.

No power in conformity

The early Christians weren’t tortured and killed because they tried to fit in — but because they refused to conform to the spirit of the age. They stood for something absolute. Something final. They proclaimed Christ as King in a world that demanded silence, and they paid for it in blood.

That’s what gave them power. That’s what made Rome afraid.

They weren’t trying to be liked. They were trying to be faithful. They didn’t soften their message to gain followers. Instead, they hardened their resolve, and the church exploded across the world because of it. Not in spite of the offense, but because of it. The gospel was a scandal then, and it should still be one now.

Today’s church, by contrast, tiptoes through culture like it’s walking on broken glass. It holds interfaith dialogues with those who openly despise it and lobbies for carbon taxes while souls starve. We have Catholic bishops who march in Pride parades but are nowhere to be found at pro-life vigils. We have Protestant pastors hosting drag nights in church basements while their congregations hemorrhage members. The shepherds worry more about upsetting activists than defending the word of God. They preach about climate change, white privilege, and plastic straws.

But they stay silent on sin, judgment, and repentance. It’s time for both Catholics and Protestants to snap out of it. This isn’t a debate over doctrine. It’s a culture that wants the church destroyed, and too many inside it are holding the door open.

A purified church

If the apostles walked into half these churches today, they wouldn’t smile or applaud. They’d flip tables.

God doesn’t need marketers. He needs martyrs. Not spiritual consultants but disciples. The future of Christianity will not be built by bishops apologizing to the New York Times or pastors retweeting the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals. It will be built by those who kneel in silence and believe in public, even when the world calls them fools.

Maybe that’s the real message here: The church isn’t dying but being purified.

Let the saboteurs resign. Let the cowards step down. Let the cafeteria close. What’s left will be smaller, yes — but stronger. Not performative. Not progressive. But holy. Finally, again, holy.

Renewing the promise of America: A Catholic tribute this Fourth of July

As fireworks light up our skies and patriotic songs echo from sea to shining sea, Americans across the nation prepare to celebrate the birth of the greatest experiment in human freedom: the United States of America.

The Fourth of July is more than a commemoration of independence. It is a call to remember the sacrifices, the dreams, and the values that made our republic possible — and Catholics’ role in our great national story.

There is no better time than now for all Christians and men and women of good spirit to renew the great virtues that made our country the beacon that shines around the world.

Now, as Catholics recover from four years of a presidential administration actively weaponized against them, we must remember that we still have a seat at the table.

The first Thanksgiving — on what would become U.S. soil — was not a turkey dinner in Plymouth but a Mass. On September 8, 1565, in what is now St. Augustine, Florida, Father Francisco López de Mendoza Grajales celebrated the holy Eucharist, giving thanks to God for a safe voyage from Spain and the new beginning in this land.

It was a deeply Catholic expression of gratitude — a reminder that before America was a nation, it was already a place where the faith was planted.

That same spirit of courage and conviction continued through the Revolution. Among the signers of the Declaration of Independence stood one Catholic: Charles Carroll of Carrollton, a man of extraordinary education and faith. At a time when anti-Catholic prejudice was rampant in the colonies, Carroll's signature was a bold testimony that Catholics were willing to risk everything — fortune, honor, and life itself — for liberty.

No group more embodied the pioneer spirit and resilience of the early republic than the Catholic sisters who took to the frontiers — not with muskets, but with habits, discipline, and love.

In 1727, the Ursuline Sisters opened the first Catholic hospital in New Orleans, 24 years before Benjamin Franklin founded the first one in the original colonies. Later, the Sisters of Charity would build dozens of hospitals across the expanding nation, including the Baltimore Infirmary in 1827. These heroic women served all: rich and poor, black and white, Christian and non-Christian.

Even legends of the Wild West intersect with this Catholic witness. The infamous Doc Holliday, once a gunfighter, died not in some saloon but in a Catholic hospital in the Rockies, attended by sisters and reconciled with God through the Catholic Church.

Sadly, forces have recently been at work to exclude Catholics from expressing our deeply held beliefs in the society we helped to build.

Under President Biden, the FBI authorized federal agents to spy on Catholics in their houses of worship and shamelessly persecuted pro-life advocates for speaking out peacefully about the dignity of human life. Meanwhile, the Biden FBI sat idly by while extremists carried out more than 500 attacks on Catholic churches across the nation, including upon St. Patrick Catholic Church in Wichita, Kansas, where statues were destroyed and glass shattered, preventing worshippers from attending Mass.

Under the Trump administration, however, a new Justice Department task force will fight anti-Christian bias. Moreover, recent Supreme Court victories — some secured by Catholic plaintiffs or attorneys — reaffirm not only that Catholics are entitled to the same religious freedom guaranteed to all other faiths, but also that Catholics are key players in defending the First Amendment freedoms that make our nation great.

Modern Catholic heroes like Grace Morrison, for example, prove that religious freedom is still worth fighting for and we must continue to restore religious toleration to the American lexicon. Grace bravely stood up against the Montgomery County School Board in Maryland, which revoked parental notification and opt-outs for age-inappropriate and over-sexualized LGBTQ course materials for children as young as 3. Joining other religious plaintiffs of diverse faiths, Grace fought for her right to opt her 12-year-old daughter out of the materials promoting radical ideologies antithetical to her family’s beliefs.

Just last week, the Supreme Court affirmed her First Amendment rights.

Thanks to courageous individuals and victories like these, Catholics, who came to America to build, can take up once again their shared dream of creating a society of ordered liberty and moral greatness. That legacy endures in stone and memory in the U.S. Capitol, where statues of Mother Joseph of the Sacred Heart, St. Junípero Serra, St. Damien of Molokai, Fr. Eusebio Kino, and Fr. Jacques Marquette quietly testify to the Catholic heart of the American story.

There is no better time than now for all Christians and men and women of good spirit to renew the great virtues that made our country the beacon that shines around the world.

This is not a time to merely celebrate the past, but to shape the future, to conquer the new cultural frontiers that Pope Leo, the first American pope, is calling us to take on with renewed energy, courage, faith, and hope, reclaiming the nobility of our founding vision — and ensure that this “one nation under God” shines with even greater brilliance for generations to come.

Ask yourself the one question that separates patriots from pretenders

As we honor the brave souls who laid down their lives for this country and salute those who fought for our freedom, a deeper question should rise within us.

Not one that simply tests our loyalty to the red, white, and blue or willingness to die for our flag, but this: Would you live for your country?

This country doesn’t need more empty promises of sacrifice. It needs people willing to show up every day with integrity and courage.

I once sat across from a young, bright-eyed man, eager to prove himself, training to become a Navy SEAL. I asked him to write down a single question: Would you die for your country? He nodded solemnly as he scribbled it onto a notepad. Then I told him to cross out “die” and write “live.”

That shift in wording — so simple — completely changed his posture. The romanticism of martyrdom dimmed in the light of daily responsibility. Living for something demands consistency, humility, and effort. It’s the long haul.

I then asked him to add "your family" and "my family" to the sentence. “Would you live for your country, your family, and my family?” That’s when the gravity hit him. Because if you won’t live for them — serve, protect, uphold — then you don’t deserve the honor of dying for them.

A lot of men say they’d die for their country because they assume they’ll never have to. But living for your country? That’s actionable. That starts now — in how you lead your home, how you love your neighbor, how you contribute to your community.

This country doesn’t need more empty promises of sacrifice. It needs people willing to show up every day with integrity and courage.

We are living in a destabilized America. The erosion didn’t begin with foreign powers. It began when we stopped holding ourselves and each other accountable. We began to celebrate selfishness over service, confusion over clarity, and chaos over order. When morality and justice become flexible, small government becomes impossible. That vacuum invites control. And when people abandon responsibility, tyranny grows in its place.

I’ve worked in environments where destabilizing a country was the goal, where operations were designed to light the fuse and let the people do the rest. Sadly, I see a similar fuse burning in our own nation.

When law is no longer tied to truth and truth becomes subjective, the foundation cracks. Evil ideas dressed as compassion are pushed forward under the guise of progress. But make no mistake: Confusion is not compassion. Chaos is not freedom. And evil, when legalized, is still evil.

So what do we do? We take ownership. We return to righteousness.

I used to think I was doing enough by building a business, raising my kids, and being a decent husband. But I delegated too much. I assumed the school system would take care of my children’s education. I trusted the government to protect what’s right.

That was a mistake.

The top is broken. It’s time we fix it from the ground up, starting with ourselves. We’re not in charge of them. We’re in charge of us.

As men and women of faith, we were born with purpose and calling. The Bible tells us we are a royal priesthood, but too many of us live like powerless pawns. Why? Because we've forgotten who we are. We fear the consequences of standing up, but fail to see the greater danger in staying seated.

When I look around, I see a nation waiting for leadership — not from Washington, but from our homes, churches, and communities. Men, it’s time to get back in the fight. Not with fists, but with faith. Not with rage, but with righteousness.

Start by asking: What do I bring to the table? What am I doing to make this country better today? You don’t need to be a soldier to serve. You need to be someone of character who says, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

I recently read Ezekiel 22:30 to a group at my church: “I searched for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand in the gap … but I found no one.” I asked, “What if Jesus came back today and found no one standing in the gap for this nation?” A little boy stood up and shouted, “I’ll be that man!”

That boldness — unfiltered and unafraid — is what we need more of.

This Fourth of July, don’t just wave the flag — embody what it stands for. Choose to live for your country. Live with integrity. Live with purpose. Live in a way that honors your family and the generations that came before us.

If we start living like that, others will follow. Only then can we fill in the gap and rebuild the wall.

Our churches are sitting ducks. Here's how to fight back.

This week, millions of Americans will celebrate the blood-bought freedoms our forefathers secured for us with fireworks, family, and cookouts.

That declaration, signed by 56 men, was not just a recounting of grievances or an important political declaration. It was a document of war. These men were ready to defend their God-given freedoms with steel and shot. Among the signers of the Declaration of Independence was John Witherspoon, a Presbyterian minister. While he was the only pastor who signed the document, the war for independence that followed was supported by clergy in nearly every colony. They brought the spiritual munitions necessary to justify their congregants' and country’s fight against the British crown.

Many churches celebrate the religious liberty enumerated in the First Amendment, but few champion the Second.

This right of self-governance and self-defense was not a novel theological concept. It was baked into Protestant political thought. And it was out of this Protestant heritage that America was born.

However, this type of preaching and instruction seems muted in our day. As Americans’ Second Amendment rights remain besieged in various states and jurisdictions, many pulpits remain silent about the threats their congregants face.

Even more pressing for many churches, though, is the threat posed by those who wish to do the church harm, often while armed.

Why every church needs a security team

Every church needs a security team.

In an ideal world, the only weapons needed on a Sunday morning would be the sword of the Spirit and the shield of faith. Our children could run freely through the sanctuary without a single parent wondering if a madman might walk in. Evil would be rare and dealt with swiftly by just rulers who have been appointed to punish the evildoer. In such a world, peace would be the norm, not the exception.

In a merely less-than-ideal world, where threats exist, we would at least hope the civil magistrate would protect churches as sacred gathering spaces. The state would prioritize security for these vital institutions that shape the moral and social health of the nation. And we’d expect the state to make it easier — not harder — for congregations to defend themselves.

But that’s not the world we live in either.

We live in a world where churches are being actively targeted by would-be killers and where politicians pass laws that make congregants sitting ducks. We live in a world where police departments are understaffed, underpaid, and overtasked. And we live in a world where insurance companies and government bureaucracies penalize churches for taking common-sense steps to protect their people.

Recently, a man attempted to carry out a mass shooting at CrossPointe Community Church in Wayne, Michigan. Thankfully, it was thwarted before tragedy struck. A deacon of the church heroically struck the assailant with his pickup truck, slowing the attacker’s approach. Then, a trained member of the church security team engaged the shooter and fatally shot him before he could enter the sanctuary. But the mere fact that it got that close, yet again, should shake pastors and church leaders out of their slumber.

This is not a one-off case. It is the reality that many churches face in a civilization unraveling.

WoodyUpstate/Getty Images Plus

And yet when churches take steps to prepare — by forming volunteer security teams, for example — they are often punished by insurers. Many insurance companies raise a church’s premiums by up to 20% if the church has an organized security presence, unless those volunteers undergo professional training that can cost several thousand dollars per person. For small or midsize congregations, this burden is often too high.

Hiring off-duty police officers, meanwhile, can cost $60 to $75 an hour. That may be manageable for a megachurch with a multimillion-dollar budget. But for the average congregation trying to keep the lights on and fund ministry, $30,000 annually for armed security simply isn’t feasible.

It’s not just private institutions or police departments creating barriers. The state is becoming a direct obstacle.

In 2024, Colorado passed Senate Bill 24‑131, which declared churches and other religious buildings to be “sensitive spaces.” Under this law, concealed carry would have been forbidden on church property unless the church explicitly issues a written exemption for each individual. This was ultimately rescinded by the state. But in places like Boulder County, where leftist officials refused to grant the necessary permissions, the exemption requirement remains in place.

In practice, that means churches that want their congregants to carry cannot do so by law.

Colorado is not unique. Similar legislation exists in California, New York, Illinois, and other blue states. The trend is clear: Disarm peaceful citizens and disempower local churches from protecting their congregations.

This means churches are stuck in a legal and financial bind. On one hand, they are increasingly likely to be targeted by insane individuals seeking death or driven by ideological hatred. On the other hand, they are punished for taking even modest steps toward preparedness.

So what is the church to do?

First, we must stop pretending that spiritual and physical safety are mutually exclusive.

Some well-meaning pastors resist forming security teams or speaking of the importance of self-defense because they believe it’s a distraction from the gospel. But loving your neighbor includes defending your neighbor. Good shepherds guard the flock not only from false teachers but from wolves of every kind.

In fact, it seems that we are in a day when advertising that the church has a security team would be an attraction, not a deterrent, to would-be churchgoers.

Scripture does not pit spiritual vigilance against physical readiness. Nehemiah, when rebuilding Jerusalem’s walls, stationed men with swords in one hand and tools in the other. Jesus Himself instructed His disciples to buy a sword (Luke 22:36), not so they could go on the offensive, but so they would be prepared.

pamela_d_mcadams/iStock/Getty Images Plus

Second, churches must form well-organized volunteer teams. These don’t need to be tactical operators. They need to be faithful, dependable men vetted, trained, and alert. Veterans, off-duty officers, and responsible gun owners are often already sitting in the pews. Pastors or deacons should identify these men, invest in their development, and establish protocols for emergencies.

Third, churches should not be ashamed to advocate for their rights. As our forefathers understood, there is no biblical reason to surrender the ability to protect one’s people. Just as churches fight for religious liberty, we should also contend for self-defense and security. This includes contacting lawmakers, organizing with other local churches, and resisting unconstitutional laws through legal means.

Many churches celebrate the religious liberty enumerated in the First Amendment, but few champion the Second.

Finally, we must honor the men who already serve. Every week, there are faithful men who sit near the exits, who watch the doors, who glance sideways when a stranger walks in with a backpack, and who make quiet mental notes while others sing hymns. These men aren’t paranoid. They’re protective. They are answering the call to keep watch while others worship in peace.

It’s time for every church to acknowledge reality and act with courage. Our congregations should be places of peace, but not because we are blind to danger. Rather, they should be places of peace because good men stand ready at the gates.

We may live in a fallen world, but that doesn’t mean we must be foolish in it. God does not bless the naive. Churches have a unique calling to shepherd the souls of mankind in the truth of the Lord Jesus Christ.

But that immaterial calling does not stay immaterial. It manifests itself in the material realm. Good shepherds will not just look after the state of the souls of the congregation but also the health of their bodies.

To ignore the physical threat is to misunderstand the Incarnation itself. Christ did not come to redeem disembodied spirits but whole persons, flesh and blood. His ministry was not merely spiritual but deeply material: feeding the hungry, healing the sick, driving out demons, laying down His physical life for His sheep. Likewise, our churches must reflect His care for the whole person.

We prepare the soul with preaching. We guard the body with vigilance. Both are acts of love.

Club Misery: How the godless elite let the truth slip about atheism

What do Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, Bill Maher, and Ricky Gervais have in common?

If you’re the sort of person who reads HuffPost, sips oat milk lattes, and thinks everything wrong with the world boils down to white men with opinions, you probably already have your answer: privileged patriarchal monsters.

Atheism, in its purest form, is an ideology of erasure, a faith in subtraction.

But if you’re a little more honest — and a little more curious — you’ll notice something different.

These aren’t just successful men. They’re atheists — and they’re also, quite clearly, miserable.

Bill Maher

Maher is a comedian by trade, but rarely funny any more — at least not in the way that feels joyful or generous.

On "Club Random," his podcast that masquerades as freewheeling conversation, Maher talks over his guests so relentlessly that it’s become the most consistent punch line in his YouTube comments.

“Stop cutting them off, Bill.”
“Let them speak, for once.”
“Do you invite guests just to hear yourself talk?”

He lectures, sneers, and plays the same greatest hits week after week. He’s not sharing ideas — he’s performing superiority. You can practically feel the clenched teeth through your screen.

Richard Dawkins

Then there’s Richard Dawkins, the patron saint of Darwinian superiority, the man who turned religious skepticism into a career of scowling, condescension, and book tours.

Dawkins hasn’t smiled in public since the Cambrian explosion. He scolds believers like a substitute teacher who can’t believe anyone is still talking about God after he’s assigned the fossil chart. Every public appearance is an exercise in barely contained frustration — at creationists, at the Bible, at people who pray for the sick instead of shrugging their shoulders.

Dawkins doesn’t merely disbelieve. He resents belief, and nothing is more exhausting than a man perpetually outraged that billions of people don’t think exactly like him.

Ricky Gervais

Some will point to Ricky Gervais as the exception.

An atheist, a comedian, a master of satire, and they’d be right — at least partly. Gervais is funny. Incredibly so. But happy? That’s another story.

Gervais has never struck me as someone content. Even in interviews, there’s a fog of irritation that never quite lifts. He’s always complaining, always nagging, always rolling his eyes at something. And while he packages the whole thing in charm and wit, the engine underneath doesn’t sound like joy. It sounds like frustration dressed up for a Netflix special.

His entire career — brilliant as it may be — has been a decades-long monologue of gripes. Yes, he makes people laugh. But the deeper source of it all feels like a man quietly suffocating on his own disbelief. If in doubt, feel free to watch his recent interview with Jimmy Kimmel, a practicing Catholic, where he spent minutes rambling about everything wrong with himself and the world — his body, his brain, society, death.

Funny? Sure, but also bleak. The laughter lands, but the undertow is pure despair.

And then there’s "After Life," his hit Netflix show. Lauded for its honesty, praised for its emotion. But look closely, and what you see isn’t fiction; it’s confession. A man mourning his wife’s passing, clinging to sarcasm like a flotation device in a sea of grief. It’s gulag humor without the bars — just a soulless bloke with a dog and a sharp tongue, cracking jokes to keep the walls from closing in.

Gervais is playing himself. "After Life" isn’t just a comedy — it’s an atheist’s eulogy.

Sam Harris

Gervais' close friend Sam Harris is no better.

Before he was consumed by Trump derangement syndrome, he was a sharp mind who took a blowtorch to radical Islam. Harris positioned himself as the cold, rational surgeon cutting through sacred narratives full of hate and delusion.

But even then, the man radiated pessimism. There was always an oddness to him — like he was describing humanity from orbit, distant and curiously detached.

These days, it’s worse. His permanent frown, his stilted delivery, his fixation on Trump supporters as if they’re some primitive tribe to be studied under glass — it all screams anxiety, not authority. He doesn’t project clarity. He projects burden. Every podcast, every essay, every panel feels like another brick in a bunker of airtight, joyless "reasoning" — sealed off from awe, from beauty, from anything resembling peace.

No comfort. No transcendence. No light. Just a man methodically dismantling meaning while sounding more drained with each attempt. Harris whispers meditations and mouths moral truths, all while insisting there’s no divine author behind any of it.

Christopher Hitchens

Even the great Christopher Hitchens — brilliant in so many ways — died with a cigarette in one hand, a scotch in the other, and a rage against the God he claimed didn’t exist.

Hitchens was a man of genuine intellect and rhetorical firepower. He could dazzle a room into silence. He could devastate an opponent with a single line. Joy, however, was never part of the package. The Brit burned hot, but never warm. His wit wasn’t rooted in love. It was weaponized. He didn’t laugh with you; he laughed at the absurdity of the world and often at the people trying to find meaning in it.

His takedowns of Mother Teresa, of Henry Kissinger, of religion itself — they were theater, yes. But they were also therapy. They came from a place of deep unrest. His war wasn’t just with belief systems but with the very structure of consolation. The human need for mercy, for absolution, for something sacred. He couldn’t tolerate it, maybe because he wanted it too much.

Atheism didn’t bring him peace. It gave him license to rage: to reject sentiment, spit on tradition, and scorn the spiritual longings of billions.

He could speak for hours. But when it came to rest — to true stillness — he had none.

The problem with atheism

The problem with modern atheism isn’t just lack of belief. It’s that it builds identity around lack itself, around the removal of things. Strip away God, strip away the soul, strip away metaphysics, strip away teleology, and what’s left isn’t freedom — it’s vacancy.

Atheism, in its purest form, is an ideology of erasure, a faith in subtraction. And subtraction, no matter how eloquently defended, is not a place from which joy can grow.

It is, however, a place from which misery flourishes. Consciousness gets recast as a glitch, morality as adaptive behavior. Love? A chemical bribe from nature. Everything that once lifted the human soul now gets filed under "illusion."

And illusions, we’re told, are best destroyed.

But here’s the truth atheists ignore: You cannot build a life — let alone a civilization — on negation. You cannot inspire the heart with “there is no God,” no matter how clever the phrasing. You can’t raise a child on “nothing matters” and expect the child to thrive. You can’t look into the eyes of someone dying and offer neurons as comfort.

This public face of atheism — the podcast hosts, the viral thinkers, the smug Substack intellectuals — don’t sell joy. They sell despair dressed up as clarity. They tell you that meaning is a delusion, that your suffering has no higher context, that the love you feel is just your DNA playing dress-up. They perform autopsies on transcendence, then wonder why their audiences walk away spiritually numb.

Humans don’t just crave truth. They crave belonging, direction, awe, and something to serve that isn’t themselves.

Atheism offers none of that. It hands you a mirror and tells you it’s a map — and then it dares you to walk in circles and calls it freedom.

Does the church replace Israel? Answering tough theological questions

Does the church replace Israel? Did I ignore the Jews? Does the formation of Israel in 1948 fulfill Old Testament promises?

These were a few of the questions and critiques sparked by an essay I wrote last week, "How Tucker Carlson vs. Ted Cruz exposed a critical biblical question on Israel." After providing a cursory biblical-theological exploration of the question "What is Israel?" I answered that no, the modern nation-state of Israel is not the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecies. I also stated that Christians are not biblically commanded to support the modern nation-state of Israel because the state of Israel and the biblical Israel are not the same entity.

To some, my conclusions sounded like heresy. But others, through emails or comments, expressed thankfulness for what they saw as a long-overdue correction.

In any case, I am thankful for every subscriber to and reader of Blaze Media, and I am thankful for everyone who wrote comments, positive or negative, and engaged with me.

This topic understandably touches nerves, but that's why this conversation matters. And if the reaction proved anything, it's that we need more biblical clarity. Below, I am going to respond to some of the critiques. I hope to provide clarity with charity and continue the dialogue about this important topic.

Did I ignore the Jews?

Mark Brown commented: "I’m curious how you just seemingly ignore the Jew in your theology. The New Covenant in Jeremiah is to be made with the House of Judah and with the House of Israel. Gentiles (read as the nations) are grafted into the olive tree and the roots of that tree are Israel. In effect, you are teaching that the church has replaced Israel which couldn’t be further from the truth!"

First off, thank you for subscribing to Blaze Media, Mark. I appreciate your thoughtful pushback.

I do not ignore Jews in my theology. I believe that scripture is clear that Jesus — a descendant of King David from the line of Judah (and therefore a Jew) — is the one true Israelite. As I stated in my essay, "He is the true and faithful Israelite who perfectly fulfills Israel's vocation and perfectly keeps the covenant. Jesus is the great high priest, the anointed one, and the prophet of prophets."

In that sense, Jews have a unique and special role in God's redemptive plans. It is the line of Judah, after all, that God preserves to bring about his redemptive promises despite Judah's repeated covenant unfaithfulness. You are right that the new covenant is made with the "House of Judah" and the "House of Israel" and that indeed happens in Jesus, as the author of Hebrews explains (Hebrews 8).

The question, then, is this: Do Jews retain their special status today?

On one hand, yes (e.g., Romans 3: 9-11). But the apostle Paul makes it clear that faith in Jesus, not ethnic identity, is what defines the true "Israel of God" (Galatians 6:16). For example, whereas torah commands physical circumcision as an external sign of inclusion, what humans really need is circumcision of the heart (Deuteronomy 30:6) — internal transformation. This happens in Jesus and through the Holy Spirit. As Christians, God has replaced our hearts of stone with hearts of flesh, and God's law is now written on our hearts (Jeremiah 31:33-34; Ezekiel 36:26-27).

I do not teach replacement theology (i.e., that the church replaces Israel). Rather, I teach fulfillment theology — that all of God's promises are fulfilled in Jesus Christ. I will say more about this criticism below.

One more point: I think it's important to understand that "Jew" and "Israel" are not synonyms. The Hebrew word for Jew, yehudi, literally means "of Judah." While biblical Israel certainly includes Jews (one of 12 tribes), not every Israelite is a Jew; by definition, Israel encompasses all 12 tribes of Abraham's descendants.

This is why Paul understood what happens in Jesus — the ingathering of Israel — to be no longer limited or defined by ethnic boundaries. By definition, then, the restoration of Israel is not limited to the tribe of Judah.

Is Jesus a Jew?

Dale Errett responded: "Will you next claim that Jesus is not Jewish because He is a Christian?"

Dale, thank you for being a loyal subscriber to Blaze Media and taking the time to comment on my last essay.

I do not deny the Jewishness of Jesus. He was descended from David, born into the tribe of Judah, circumcised on the eighth day according to torah, raised under torah, and lived as a faithful Jew. In fact, if you read the New Testament carefully, you will see how Jesus perfectly keeps torah, never violating nor abrogating it.

The Jewishness of Jesus is critical to his identity as the Messiah.

Does the church replace Israel?

Dale Errett responded: "You couldn't be more wrong! The modern stand of replacement theology that you are spouting here is utter heresy."

Rebecca Freimann commented: "Replacement theory is from Satan."

Dale and Rebecca, thank you for subscribing to Blaze Media. I appreciate the responses.

I share your concerns about replacement theology, a strand of thought that I find extremely problematic. But I do not teach replacement theology, nor do I think my essay advocated for it. I simply teach, as the New Testament does, that God's promises to Israel are fulfilled in Jesus Christ — the true and faithful Israelite — and that anyone united to him by faith, whether Jew or Gentile, is an heir of those promises.

From this perspective, Israel is not discarded but brought to its intended purpose in Christ, the shepherd who gathers the lost sheep of Israel and brings in the nations.

Paul teaches that "not all who are descended from Israel are Israel" (Romans 9:6) and that "if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's seed" (Galatians 3:29).

The church — Christians, people who follow the Christ, that is, Jesus — is the continuation and fulfillment of God's Old Testament promises. Jesus is the revelation of those promises, not the replacement.

The apostle Paul takes great pains to explain how this works (see, again, Romans 9-11) using the metaphor of an olive tree. Gentiles are grafted into the family of God, sharing in the nourishing root of the Abrahamic covenant. The church — or, as Paul calls it, the true "Israel of God" — includes both Gentiles and Jews, the faithful remnant who place their faith in Jesus.

This is how God has always worked, not through ethnic boundaries alone, but through covenant faithfulness. Notice that Jesus' genealogy in the Gospel of Matthew includes several non-Israelites (i.e., Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba).

In Jesus, God is forming one people through faith in Him.

Did the modern formation of Israel fulfill OT prophecies?

An anonymous subscriber commented: "Might want to read Isaiah 11, Ezekiel 36, Jeremiah 32, among others regarding the restoration of the nation of Israel, and then consider if 1948 and modern Israel might be the fulfillment of these prophecies."

Anonymous, thank you for subscribing to Blaze Media and leaving this thoughtful comment. Unfortunately, there is not enough space here to adequately respond to your objection, but I will try my best to give a cursory answer.

Each of the chapters that you cite refers to the future restoration of Israel. But the key question is when and how these prophecies are fulfilled. I believe the New Testament consistently teaches and interprets the restoration of Israel happening in and through Jesus.

For example, Isaiah 11's vision of a righteous ruler points to the Messiah who inaugurates God's kingdom, which is what Jesus did (e.g., Mark 1: 14-15). Ezekiel 36, meanwhile, envisions not just a physical restoration of Israel, but a spiritual one in which God gives his people a "new heart" and a "new spirit" (Ezekiel 36:26). And it is this internal transformation that defines the new covenant people of God (Jeremiah 32:40), a hope and transformation that is realized in Jesus.

Yes, the formation of the state of Israel in 1948 is historically significant. But it leaves me wondering: If the Old Testament is referring to that event, where does Jesus fit in?

Here I will quote the apostle Paul in Romans 9:25-26, where he quotes from the prophet Hosea:

As he says in Hosea: “I will call them ‘my people’ who are not my people; and I will call her ‘my loved one’ who is not my loved one," and, “In the very place where it was said to them, 'You are not my people,’ there they will be called ‘children of the living God.’”

It is my belief that scripture invites us to see Israel's restoration as both physical and spiritual, ultimately centered on faith in Jesus Christ and the ingathering of God's people from all nations into one new humanity.

Thank you, again, to every Blaze Media reader and subscriber. It has been a deep joy to wrestle with scripture and these questions and to engage with you all.

God, Israel, and America First: Inside the biblical battle for our future

With the battle between Israel and Iran moving from decades of proxy warring to an all-out crisis, world leaders have been waiting, watching, and nervously pondering what happens next.

And as the political implications cause deep concern, some of the theological issues implicit in the discussion have moved from percolating and bubbling under the surface to outright erupting.

There’s undoubtedly something special about Israel and the Hebrew people, through whom Jesus came.

The age-old biblical questions surrounding modern-day Israel and its relevance to prophecy sit at the core of these heated debates, as Christians ponder the modern Jewish state’s connection to the Old Testament, prophecy, and how those sentiments impact contemporary Christians’ views on how the U.S. and other nations should respond to the current crisis.

This theo-political skirmish burst onto the main stage after a verbal showdown between Tucker Carlson and Sen. Ted Cruz (R-Texas). The two now-infamously clashed, in part, over how Christians should respond to the Israel-Iran war.

The Cruz-Carlson spat intensified when Cruz proclaimed that he was taught in church that “those who bless Israel will be blessed and those who curse Israel will be cursed” and that support for modern Israel is a biblical command.

“Biblically, we are commanded to support Israel,” Cruz clarified after Carlson pushed back and questioned whether believers are truly commanded to “support the government of Israel.” When Cruz didn’t back down, Carlson demanded that the congressman “define Israel.”

The wick of an ever-smoldering theological debate was immediately lit on social media, with people on all sides pouring gasoline on the resulting flames.

Kayla Bartkowski / Anna Moneymaker | Getty Images

Ultimately, the main question centers on whether God’s promise to Abraham in Genesis 12:1-3 is speaking about the Jewish people or the nation of Israel — and whether Christianity is the ultimate continuation of that pledge.

“The Lord had said to Abram, ‘Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you. I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing,’” reads Genesis 12:1-2. Verse 3 continues: “I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.’”

Cruz's critics match up this passage with the apostle Paul's words in Galatians 3:16, “The promises were spoken to Abraham and to his seed. Scripture does not say 'and to seeds,’ meaning many people, but ‘and to your seed,’ meaning one person, who is Christ.”

Thus, some interpreters see Christ as the ultimate fulfillment of God's promises to Abraham, while others still see the state of Israel as biblically significant.

Truth in tension

But I’ve often been left wondering: Why can’t both be true?

As we assess these scriptures and consider whether modern-day Israel deserves unfettered support due to prophetic sentiments, we must confront two different realities. First, Israel is unlike any other nation in human history. Its formation, disappearance, and re-emergence raise important questions. It's a special nation composed of people through whom God has chosen to accomplish His will and offer salvation to all mankind.

Second, humans are prone to sin, and no nation run by mere mortals should be supported unconditionally without accountability. The entirety of the Bible is a testament not only to God’s truth and goodness but also to the pitfalls of man’s folly — even great men like David, Solomon, and Peter.

Ironically, it’s possible that both Cruz and Carlson are speaking kernels of truth or at least asking important questions we must ponder.

History meets prophecy

To first address Cruz, we must pull back and reflect on the stunning facts surrounding modern-day Israel’s existence.

When I was writing my book “Armageddon Code,” an exploration of various Christian beliefs about the end times, Israel’s contemporary existence truly struck me, particularly when I read the prophet Ezekiel’s words in Ezekiel 38, which was likely written during the Babylonian captivity of the Jewish people in the sixth century B.C.

The prophet foresaw a future time when the Jewish people, who had been driven out and scattered, would come back to their homeland. For nearly 1,900 years after the Second Temple’s destruction in the year 70, the Jewish people were dispersed and persecuted; the idea there would ever again be a Jewish state seemed folly to most.

But the Bible boldly predicted its re-emergence. Ezekiel 37 speaks of a valley of dry bones — imagery invoking skeletal remains coming back together, with tendons, skin, and flesh re-growing. This visualization is said to be Israel as it is restored to the land, with the Lord proclaiming in verse 12: “My people, I am going to open your graves and bring you up from them; I will bring you back to the land of Israel.”

For nearly 20 centuries, these words seemed almost implausible — until the Holocaust and its aftermath left the Jewish people around the world reeling and seeking refuge. Remarkably, on May 14, 1948, the modern state of Israel was born.

To deny the prophetic significance is true folly, as no other people group in history has seen its land disappear from the map only to re-emerge nearly two millennia later — all while events lined up with what a prophet penned more than 2,000 years before.

There’s undoubtedly something special about Israel and the Hebrew people, through whom Jesus came. Any student of prophecy knows that the geographic area is key to still-to-be-fulfilled events, and the book of Revelation highlights its involvement in the end times.

Defending freedom — with wisdom

Beyond theological considerations, Israel is one of the main bastions of sanity in the Middle East, a place where freedom reigns. The Jewish state is a key American ally. That's why constant pledges to wipe it off the face of the earth by political foes like Iran should spark deep concern.

This doesn’t mean America must co-sign each and every Israeli action, nor does it require that Americans participate in Israel's conflicts. People and nations sin, and Israeli malfeasance — if and when it occurs, just like America’s — must be called to account.

Moreover, from a purely nationalistic position, there are times when “America First” means steering clear of international crises. Past military debacles and quagmires should be overwhelmingly pertinent testaments to our need for caution.

But there are also times when “America First” means intervening to protect American interests. Poor past decisions and wars don’t render every conflict unworthy; such a posture could leave the U.S. in a perilous place.

There’s no world in which a nuclear Iran is good for anyone, and burying our heads in the sand while pretending it's not happening is begging for terror.

So yes: Modern-day Israel holds prophetic significance and meaning. It’s a good, solid, and biblical posture to defend the Jewish people.

But even if you deny the biblical foundation of this argument, it’s morally expedient for our nation to help a friend ward off fiendish foes — enemies that also seek America’s destruction.

Still, such deterrence should always be done in a prayerful, political balance that ensures we truly weigh our engagement against truth, goodness, and American interests. As is the case in all things, discernment is key.

Did Christianity birth the trans craze? Exposing the left's shocking historical hit job

Every so often, an academic wrapped in the robes of theory decides to rewrite history — not to correct it, but to commandeer it.

The latest example comes from the Conversation, in which a University of Iowa scholar, Sarah Barringer, claims that Christianity has a “transgender” heritage. You heard that right: Saints who renounced the world to live in chastity and devotion are now being posthumously enlisted in a modern identity crusade they never chose.

The modern obsession with identity — splintering the self into ever-narrower categories — is antithetical to the Christian ethos.

Let's acknowledge the truth up front: There is no such thing as a “transgender saint.” There are saints who disguised themselves, fled arranged marriages, and shaved their heads and donned robes to live among men in monasteries because that was the only place they could escape danger, obligation, or temptation.

But calling this “transness” is like calling Joan of Arc gender-fluid because she wore armor. It’s historical trespassing and spiritual identity theft dressed up as scholarship.

Faith, not fluidity

Consider St. Eugenia, St. Euphrosyne, and St. Marinos.

They weren’t confused teenagers raised on TikTok and identity slogans but were devout individuals who, in a brutal and hierarchical world, did what they had to do to escape danger, avoid forced marriage, or pursue a life of monastic devotion. Dressing as a man wasn’t some statement about “true gender” or an inner identity waiting to be expressed. Rather, it was strategy and self-preservation.

More than anything, they chose the path of intense spiritual focus in a world that gave women few choices.

They weren’t rewriting Genesis or making statements about biology. They were rejecting the noise of their time — power, status, family expectations — to live lives of sacrifice and submission to God.

These saints didn’t “identify” as anything — but only with Christ.

Leftists can't comprehend it

To retrofit their stories into modern trans narratives isn’t just ahistorical — it’s grotesque. It’s a desecration of the very virtues they lived for: humility, chastity, obedience, and detachment from self. They weren’t looking inward to define themselves. They were looking upward to lose themselves.

That is the difference. That is what today’s leftist ideologues can’t comprehend, and it's why they have no right to co-opt these lives for their own agendas.

The argument hinges on a dishonest conflation. Barringer admits these stories were “morality tales,” symbolic journeys about rejecting the world and embracing God. Yet somehow rejecting arranged marriage becomes an early form of identity politics and running from Roman militarism becomes evidence of internalized gender non-conformity.

It’s the theological equivalent of reading "The Iliad" and diagnosing Achilles with toxic masculinity.

The saints in question lived in monastic communities that demanded celibacy and asceticism. They weren’t changing genders; they were erasing self — not affirming identity, but crucifying it. Their bodies were temples, not canvases for self-expression.

To call this "transgender" is to confuse spiritual transformation with a social rebrand. One seeks union with God, but the other seeks alignment with self.

Desecrating the dead

Therein lies the real tension. Christianity, at its core, is not about affirming the self. It’s about dying to it.

“I no longer live, but Christ lives in me,” the apostle Paul wrote (Galatians 2:20) — not “I live my truth.”

But the modern obsession with identity — splintering the self into ever-narrower categories — is antithetical to the Christian ethos. You are not your urges. You are not your emotions. You are a soul, and you are called to holiness like Jesus Christ.

The irony is laughable. The same scholars who sneer at scripture’s authority now claim ownership of its saints. They reject Christianity as bigoted and outdated, yet raid its tombs for ideological mascots. It's not a demonstration of reverence for Christianity's ancient saints, but an attempt to rewrite the past to control the present.

Let the saints rest

We can't pretend this is harmless. Redefining religious tradition to fit modern ideologies amounts to spiritual counterfeiting. It muddies doctrine, breeds confusion among believers, and turns the sacred into just another stage for performance politics.

If you want to find affirmation for trans identity, look to modern movements. Don’t twist the lives of ancient saints who had no concept of gender theory and would likely be horrified by what’s being done in their names.

Christianity welcomes the broken, the wounded, the uncertain — but not by sanctifying confusion.

So no, Christianity does not have a transgender heritage. It has a long and rich tradition of souls rejecting worldly labels to pursue something higher than themselves. That’s not a forerunner to modern identity politics. It’s the antidote to it.

Let the saints rest. Let the church speak. And let the past remain sacred.

How Tucker Carlson vs. Ted Cruz exposed a critical biblical question on Israel

Beneath the sparks of Tucker Carlson's debate with Sen. Ted Cruz (R) about a possible war with Iran lies a far more important — and ancient — question.

One of the most revealing moments of the interview came about halfway through, when Cruz explained why he wants to be the "leading defender of Israel."

If we reduce scripture to foreign policy talking points, we risk baptizing political agendas in the name of God while justifying more war.

His reason? "As a Christian, growing up in Sunday school, I was taught from the Bible, 'Those who bless Israel will be blessed, and those who curse Israel will be cursed.'"

When Carlson pressed Cruz on whether that means Christians must support the modern nation-state of Israel, Cruz replied, "Biblically, we are commanded to support Israel."

That response failed to satisfy Carlson.

"But hold on — define Israel," Carlson responded.

More specifically, Carlson asked Cruz if he believes Genesis is referring to the modern nation-state of Israel as it currently exists as a political entity, with its current leadership and borders.

"Yes," Cruz responded.

Carlson's interjection — "define Israel" — gets at the heart of an important question, a theological fault line in American Christianity: What is Israel, and is there a difference between the modern nation-state of Israel and biblical Israel?

The answer is often treated as self-evident. But the assumption that the modern nation-state of Israel is identical to biblical Israel is not just a matter of political opinion. It's a theological claim, and it deserves biblical scrutiny.

What is (biblical) Israel?

The verse that Cruz cites comes from one of the most important passages in the entire Bible. In Genesis 12, God calls Abraham to leave his family and homeland and go to a new land that he will show Abraham.

Then, God tells Abraham (Genesis 12:2-3):

I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.

Notice that God did not say that "Israel will be blessed." Rather, the subject of God's blessing is "you." God tells Abraham that he will be blessed. How will Abraham be blessed? Through his descendants, who will become a "great nation" and a people through whom the entire earth is blessed.

The Hebrew word "Israel," in fact, doesn't appear in the Old Testament until Genesis 32:28. It's first used to explain why Abraham's grandson Jacob is called "Israel." Throughout the rest of the Torah, Israel exclusively refers to a people group: The descendants of Jacob, who are the 12 tribes of Israel.

And Israel, indeed, is unique and set apart.

After God rescues his people from the hand of Pharaoh and brings them to Mount Sinai, God enters into a covenant with Israel and reveals their vocation.

Exodus 19:3-6:

Then Moses went up to God, and the Lord called to him from the mountain and said, “This is what you are to say to the descendants of Jacob and what you are to tell the people of Israel: ‘You yourselves have seen what I did to Egypt, and how I carried you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself. Now if you obey me fully and keep my covenant, then out of all nations you will be my treasured possession. Although the whole earth is mine, you will be for me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.’ These are the words you are to speak to the Israelites."

Israel is God's "special possession" (if its people obey him and keep God's covenant). But for what purpose? To be a "kingdom of priests" and a "holy nation."

What this means is that God established Israel as a unique and set-apart nation for the purpose of mediating God — which is the job of a priest — to the nations. Israel received special honor not for an ambiguous reason, but because God had enacted a cosmic redemption mission since the fall in Genesis 3. And central to God's redemption plan was a priestly people through whom God could be mediated and, therefore, reconciled to his people.

But as the biblical story unfolds, Israel fails its mission. Israel breaks the covenant, pursues other gods, and becomes like the other nations, ultimately abdicating the priestly vocation. Blessing, the prophets warn, is not tied to ethnicity or geography — but faithfulness to God.

Because of the people's unfaithfulness, curse comes to Israel, and God allows Israel to be exiled. In the 8th century B.C., the Assyrian Empire conquers the Northern Kingdom of Israel and takes the people into exile. Those 10 tribes of Israel are mostly lost to history because of their horrendous failures.

Yet God is faithful. He continues to work through the Southern Kingdom of Judea (comprised of the tribes of Judah and Benjamin), but they, too, fail, and are exiled to Babylon in the 6th century B.C.

Fortunately, the story doesn't end there. God preserves a remnant from the seed of David, and Israel's mission is ultimately fulfilled by a Jewish man from a backwater town in Galilee: Jesus of Nazareth. He is the true and faithful Israelite who perfectly fulfills Israel's vocation and perfectly keeps the covenant. Jesus is the great high priest, the anointed one, and the prophet of prophets.

Through Jesus' life, death, and resurrection, God is mediated to all people. The blessings that God promised Abraham are finally realized.

"If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise," the apostle Paul writes in Galatians 3:29.

In other words, the true Israel — the true children of Abraham — is not defined by ethnicity, politics, or national barriers. It is defined by faith in Jesus. Gentiles are grafted into the family of God through Christ (Romans 9-11).

This is the fulfillment of Israel's mission, the Old Testament promises, and God's redemption plan.

Why this matters

How you define "Israel" carries tremendous theological and political weight. If we conflate the ancient covenant people of God with the modern nation-state, we risk distorting the gospel and global politics.

The modern state of Israel is not the covenant people of God. It is a secular nation with borders, politicians, and politics that serve its interests — just like every other nation. It did not exist until 1948, and, in fact, there was a campaign to name the new nation "Judea," a nod to the fact that Jews were settling there. But David Ben-Gurion chose the name "Israel" for reasons of political, symbolic, and geographic pragmatism.

This doesn't mean that Christians shouldn't care about Israel or support its right to exist. Christians should pray for Israel and for peace in the Holy Land.

But our view of Israel must not be rooted in misreadings and misunderstandings of the Bible. If we reduce scripture to foreign policy talking points, we risk baptizing political agendas in the name of God while justifying more war.

In biblical interpretation, context is king.

The true "Israel of God," according to the apostle Paul, is the church (Galatians 6:16). To "bless Israel," therefore, does not mean offering unconditional support to a foreign country that shares a name with the biblical "Israel." It means honoring the covenant fulfilled in Christ and recognizing that the mission of Israel is being carried forward by faithful Christians, Jew and Gentile alike.

Does the Bible command Christians to support the modern nation-state of Israel? No.

If Christians want to be faithful to God and wise in matters of global affairs, we should begin by answering with biblical clarity the theological question that Carlson implicitly raised: What is (biblical) Israel?

Israel is the people of God, shaped by covenant and defined by hope — and ultimately revealed in Jesus Christ. Those who belong to him are the children of Abraham, heirs according to the promise.