Journey's Jonathan Cain pays tribute to Charlie Kirk with 'No One Else'



Journey’s Jonathan Cain first met Charlie Kirk in 2016 outside the Republican National Convention in Cleveland.

The conservative firebrand was in rare form, recalls Cain. The activist held a Big Government Sucks sign and vowed, “We’re gonna change the world.”

'I said to Paula, "He could be president someday,"' he says. 'He had the drive and the wisdom of the ages. … He reached generations.'

Kirk did just that. He started a youth movement in Turning Point USA. The organization empowered conservative college students nationwide and played a pivotal role in President Donald Trump’s 2024 re-election campaign.

His viral debates woke up countless Gen Zers to the power of faith and conservative values. And following his Sept. 10 murder, his legacy sparked a conservative college revival.

'No one else'

Cain, a singer/songwriter and keyboardist for Journey for 45 years, got to know Kirk via his wife, President Donald Trump’s spiritual adviser Paula White-Cain.

“It was such a blow to free speech, a mockery of everything he had done,” Cain tells Align of Kirk’s murder. The musician decided to write a pastor appreciation song for the slain leader.

“Not many pastors came close to what he accomplished … the revival, bringing kids back to church, having them look at their family values,” Cain says.

That impulse became “No One Else,” a new single dedicated to Kirk’s memory and cultural impact.

No one else reached generations
Could heal with truth and conversation
Setting all differences aside
No one else could question hate
Turn hearts and minds with true debate
From the battle our nation will arise
Faithful servant, you’ve done well
No one else

Like a few songs in his decades-long repertoire, this one came to him quickly.

“I went into my studio. ... Thirty minutes later, I fleshed out everything I wanted to say,” he says.

Men of faith

The track, like Kirk’s death, brought out the worst of the venomous left.

“The social commentary was really disgusting,” Cain recalls of some online reactions. “They accused me of trying to make money. … There’s very little money in music any more.”

Cain is an industry veteran, so he shrugged off the naysayers. He still seems stunned that he tried to get Rolling Stone magazine interested in covering his song, to no avail.

“They didn’t want to touch an interview with me,” he says. “The song was about Charlie.”

Like Kirk, Cain is a man of deep faith, as is his wife. The Cains’ Trump connection found them running into Kirk often over the years. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame member was continually struck by how Kirk got “into the hearts and minds” of his young followers, sharing his conservative Christian values along the way.

“I said to Paula, ‘He could be president someday,'” he says. “He had the drive and the wisdom of the ages. … He reached generations.”

RELATED: Where evil tried to win: How a Utah revival turned atrocity into interfaith miracle

MELISSA MAJCHRZAK/AFP via Getty Images

'He saved you for music'

Cain credits his father, a “prayerful man,” for instilling faith in him at an early age. His faith was shaken by a 1958 fire at his school in Chicago, a disaster that took the lives of 93 children and three nuns.

“How could that evil happen?” he asked himself at the time.

His father, again, nudged him toward a spiritual path. He took the youngster to music school, imploring him to share his gifts with others.

“He saved you for music,” his father told him. The 8-year-old couldn’t initially get his hand around a guitar, but he did as he was told, and the music began to flow through him.

That wasn’t all.

“The idea of Jesus stayed with me, firmly planted,” he says.

Fateful Journey

The rest, as they say, is music history. Cain released his first solo record in 1976, joined the Babys three years later, and, in 1980, took over as the keyboardist for Journey. The band became a sensation, with Cain contributing keyboards and critical songwriting for the iconic band.

He played a key role in the band’s most famous song, “Don’t Stop Believin’,” with lyrics inspired by his father.

Now, at 75, he is prepping for Journey’s 2026 tour, complete with a reconstructed knee. Journey may keep rocking, but Cain knows when it’s time to step away from the band.

“I don’t want to die on the road. I’ve been out there for 50 years. … It feels like the time to get off the train is here,” he says.

He admits that matters have not always been smooth with longtime bandmates like Journey founder Neal Schon, including legal dustups in recent years.

“It’s sad, but it happens to most bands,” he says, noting that Mick Jagger and Keith Richards aren’t mates in the traditional sense, given their decades of acrimony. Still, the show must go on, and Cain appreciates his bandmates and, even more, the fans.

“They’re the gold that has given me a career. ... I’m grateful and thankful for them. I want to go out the right way,” he says. “I’ll be 77 to 78 [by the time the tour ends]. That’s enough.”

How a man hated for facts found the ultimate truth — and the godless can't deny it



For most of his career, Charles Murray carried a strange sort of notoriety.

He never asked for it, and he certainly didn’t enjoy it, but it clung to him all the same. He was the man who pointed out differences in IQ across groups — differences supported by mountains of data — and was promptly told he was a monster for noticing.

It is refreshing to watch a man of his stature poke holes in the pretensions of modern unbelief.

To the elite commentariat, acknowledging uncomfortable facts is far more dangerous than denying them. Murray learned that lesson the hard way. The label “racist” followed him for the simple sin of looking at the world as it is, not as fashionable minds say it must be.

Now, in his new book "Taking Religion Seriously," he commits a second and perhaps even more impermissible offense: He takes God seriously. And in our age of brazen unbelief — when Richard Dawkins still preaches that matter explains everything and Sam Harris speaks of spirituality while denying the Spirit — this is the ultimate rebellion.

Murray has joined an unexpected migration of thinkers who once rejected faith but now find themselves drawn to it. Ayaan Hirsi Ali, once firmly planted in the New Atheist camp, shocked her old colleagues in 2023 when she publicly embraced Christianity.

Murray’s turn is quieter, more measured, and unmistakably his own. But he is walking down the very same path.

Faith beyond reason

The book is a quick read, but it echoes for days.

Murray writes not as a preacher but as a man who has spent a lifetime studying human behavior at its highest and lowest extremes. He knows what happens to communities when faith vanishes. He tracked it in "Coming Apart" long before religion reporters noticed. When church attendance drops, families weaken, neighborhoods suffer, and loneliness settles like dust over entire towns.

For years, Murray called for a “cultural Great Awakening” — a return to shared habits and values without requiring belief itself. Even then, the idea looked doomed, like trying to spark a flame in deep space. And now, finally, he seems willing to concede the obvious.

This book is Murray’s attempt to understand that missing ingredient. It’s the story of an agnostic who found himself slowly pulled toward the transcendent.

His wife, Catherine, became interested in faith. Murray followed her questions, then his own. He approached classical arguments for God not as trophies to be displayed but as puzzles worth pondering. The unmoved mover. Fine-tuning. The strange universality of the moral compass. And he reads C.S. Lewis with the care of a man who knows he may be wrong and wants to be right.

This humility gives the book a sense of clarity. Murray doesn’t pretend to have been struck by lightning. He jokes that he has yet to feel the “joys of faith,” comparing himself to a child outside a bright window, watching a celebration he longs to join. It is one of the loveliest passages in the book and one of the most honest.

RELATED: Why real Christianity terrifies the elites — and they're right to worry

Blaze Media Illustration

To his credit, Murray confronts the fear that haunts the secular mind: the fear of looking foolish.

His mention of the “tribe of smart people” lands less as pride and more as an admission that he was shaped by a previous paradigm in which intellect stood in for conviction. And he knows exactly how that tribe behaves. Terminal lucidity? Near-death experiences? To the self-appointed high priests of materialism, such things must be dismissed before anyone dares examine them. They carry their disbelief like a badge of honor.

Murray refuses to play along. If the evidence points beyond matter, he says, follow it. Even if the clever people frown — and especially then.

It is refreshing to watch a man of his stature poke holes in the pretensions of modern unbelief, not with anger or sarcasm, but with a steady hand and a willingness to face what many prefer to ignore — and hope we ignore too.

Truth conquers data

For Christians, the most moving aspect of the book is Murray’s recognition that religion can’t be divorced from the heart of who we are. A society can’t thrive on secondhand virtue. It must grow from living faith, not admiration from a distance.

Murray’s old belief in an underlying, all-encompassing framework without God now strikes him as absurd. The last few years have shown him what many Christians already know: Attempting to build community on the fumes of forgotten belief is folly. The foundation is already dust before the first brick is laid.

Murray now accepts the existence of God. He accepts the reliability of scripture. He accepts the claims of Christ. And perhaps most telling of all, he no longer fears death. A man who once considered suicide at the end of life now finds himself at peace.

That, in itself, is a kind of miracle.

"Taking Religion Seriously" isn’t an altar call. It’s something rarer: the record of a mind long trained to trust data now learning to trust truth. Murray shows that the honest search for meaning will always lead beyond materialism, beyond ego, beyond the boundaries set by those who pride themselves on sophistication but know nothing of the soul.

How faith sustained me in my darkest hour



I am a retired Navy lieutenant commander who served our nation for nearly two decades in the intelligence community. My wife, Sharon, and I spent years running a successful software company serving federal agencies. We were living peacefully on our small family farm in Virginia's Shenandoah Valley when, in a pre-dawn SWAT raid, armor-clad FBI agents shattered our lives following the January 6 protest at the nation’s Capitol.

What followed was my arrest for a crime I never committed, solitary confinement in what I can only describe as an icy dungeon, and a battle through a politically driven legal system determined to crush everything Sharon and I had built together.

The thought consumed me: I’m never getting out of here. Why not take control?

There are moments in life when everything you thought defined you simply ceases to exist. For me, that moment came in a Virginia supermax solitary confinement cell, lying on cold concrete after being struck in the spine by a guard, unable to draw a full breath, watching uniformed backs disappear through a steel door that slammed with finality.

In that cell, I had no pride, no dignity, no vanity, no vitality, no ambition, no joy, no self-respect, no ego, no hope. I was reduced to what I can only describe as the rapidly hammering heart of human anguish.

I've spent considerable time thinking about whether places of extreme suffering have the power to trap a person's essence — whether dungeons and passageways can hold people captive by imprinting upon them the heartache, grief, and distress endured, replaying that wretchedness and pain in a perpetual loop across time itself. In those solitary confinement catacombs, I felt that I was living in exactly such a place.

The darkest thought came to me with unexpected clarity: As a Christian, I know I am going to heaven. This knowledge, when I thought too much about it, formed an excellent argument for suicide. Why endure this abuse when I could be with Jesus, with friends and family, with my puppy in heaven? I wouldn’t shake there. I wouldn't hurt or ache any more. It would stop the pain. In the depths of my hopelessness, this thought gave me a feeling of relief. My suffering would end, and Sharon could live and be free.

I was so far gone that I let the enemy put these thoughts in my head. Death, which should have come to me many years from now as a benevolent old friend bringing gifts of peace and rest, instead clung to my being like a fungus rooted in desperation and despair. I heard other inmates talk of it through the walls and in the passageways — to no one in particular, or at least to no one somebody else could see.

The thought consumed me: I’m never getting out of here. Why not take control?

So I told the Lord then and there that I wanted to come home to Him, to end all of this, and I asked Him to make it so. My will to go on had fled me. Unless you have reached the point of total physical and emotional collapse, I'm not sure I can make you understand. In a way, I was already dead.

That might have been the first and only time this confessed control freak had ever said “Your will be done, Father,” and really meant it.

I had no control over anything in my desiccated world, but I had the ability to relinquish control of my life that day. Nothing that I owned or that I thought was a part of me existed in that hell. Was this “dying to self”? Those curious Bible words suddenly made sense.

It had something to do with my idea of the sum of me as a human being — my personal, selfish desires, the things I wanted or ever thought I did, my plans for a happy future with Sharon. I couldn’t clearly picture them any more. They were lost like last night’s dreams, forgotten with the free man's morning coffee.

Right now, they counted for exactly nothing.

I didn't know how to pray at that moment. I was too beaten down, and I didn't have the tongue for it. All I could offer was: “Whatever You have planned is much better than this, Lord. Let's try that, please, because this place totally sucks.”

With the warning lights on the remnant of my life force glaring a constant red, He took me in.

RELATED: The grace our cruel culture can’t understand

Gary Hershorn/Getty Images

That surrender — that complete, desperate relinquishment of control — was the moment my faith stopped being something I professed and became something I lived. Not in victory, but in total defeat. Not in strength, but in absolute weakness. It was there, in that place of utter brokenness, that I discovered what faith actually means: trusting God when you have nothing left, not even yourself.

Through years of persecution, Sharon and I were repeatedly pulled from the brink by what I can only describe as miraculous events. Our marital bond and our enduring faith in God sustained us through a battle against overwhelming odds. In a federal courtroom where I faced slander, perjury, and falsification of evidence, it was that moment of complete surrender in solitary confinement — when I finally meant “Your will be done” — that gave me the strength to endure what seemed unendurable.

I am living proof that faith isn't found in our strength, but in God's strength when ours has completely failed.

Violent attacks against Christians spike in Europe; France leading the way with anti-Christian hate crimes: Report



Christians are brutally persecuted the world over. According to the watchdog group Open Doors, over 380 million Christians suffer high levels of persecution and discrimination for their faith, and over 4,476 were killed for their faith in 2024 alone.

While the top 10 worst countries for Christians are all in Africa, Asia, and the Indian subcontinent — Nigeria, for instance, saw over 300 Christian schoolchildren abducted during a raid by bandits on Friday — Christians are also subjected to violent attacks, discrimination, and state suppression in supposedly civilized Western nations.

'15 incidents featured satanic symbols or references.'

The U.S. and Canada have together, for instance, seen thousands of acts of hostility against churches in recent years.

Across the Atlantic, a British court handed a grieving father a criminal sentence last year for praying silently near the abortion clinic that killed his unborn son. In France, Christians were reportedly arrested at gunpoint for peacefully protesting the mockery of their faith during the 2024 Olympics opening ceremony. In Spain, a maniac broke into a monastery in November 2024, savagely attacking several people and fatally bludgeoning a Franciscan monk. Farther afield, an Islamic terrorist stabbed an Assyrian bishop on April 15, 2024, in an Australian church.

The Observatory on Intolerance and Discrimination Against Christians in Europe, a Vienna-based watchdog group, recently revealed that violent attacks on Christians spiked in Europe and the U.K. last year.

The watchdog noted in its annual report that a total of 2,211 anti-Christian hate crimes were documented by European governments and civil society organizations in 2024.

OIDAC hinted that the actual number of hate crimes may be much higher, as surveys indicate they are grossly underreported. In Poland, for example, nearly 50% of Catholic priests surveyed indicated that they were met with aggression sometime in the past year, yet over 80% failed to report such incidents.

RELATED: 'Mass slaughter': Trump moves to help Nigerian Christians under attack

Photo by VALERY HACHE/AFP via Getty Images.

Nevertheless, OIDAC indicated that this reflects a general decrease over 2023 — a year when there were 2,444 reported hate crimes. The decrease is partly the result of a dip in recorded incidents in France but largely the result of "lower figures reported by U.K. police, which noted a change in methodology in its official report," the report reads.

Of the 516 anti-Christian hate crimes independently recorded by OIDAC last year, the most frequent form of violence was vandalism, at 50% of reported incidents, followed by arson attacks, 15%; desecration, 13%; physical assaults, 7.5%; theft of religious objects, 5.5%; and threats, accounting for 4% of incidents. These figures do not account for burglaries at religious sites, of which there were nearly 900 additional recorded cases.

While reported anti-Christian hate crimes have generally decreased, the number of personal attacks — including assault, harassment, and threats — "rose from 232 in 2023 to 274 in 2024."

The watchdog indicated on the basis of police and civil society data that the top five European nations most affected by anti-Christian hate crimes last year were, in descending order, France, Britain, Germany, Austria, and Spain.

Among the incidents highlighted in the worst-rated country, France, were the destruction of historic Church of the Immaculate Conception in Saint-Omer by an arsonist on Sept. 2, 2024, and the March 11, 2024, vandalism of a church and desecration of the cemetery in the village Clermont-d'Excideuil, where "Isa will break the cross" and "Submit to Islam" were spray-painted on graves, the war memorial, and the church door.

Since many of the offenders have not been apprehended, the watchdog group could not say definitively what is driving this trend. However, among the 93 cases OIDAC documented wherein the perpetrators' motives or affiliations could be established, "the most common were linked to radical Islamist ideology (35), radical left-wing ideology (19), radical right-wing ideology (7), and other political motives (11). Additionally, 15 incidents featured satanic symbols or references."

Like Blaze News? Bypass the censors, sign up for our newsletters, and get stories like this direct to your inbox. Sign up here!

Our forefathers prayed on Thanksgiving. We scroll.



There was a time when Thanksgiving pointed toward something higher than stampedes for electronics or a long weekend of football. At its root, Thanksgiving was a public reminder that faith, family, and country are inseparable — and that a free people must recognize the source of their blessings.

Long before Congress fixed the holiday to the end of November, colonies and early states observed floating days of thanksgiving, prayer, and fasting. These were civic acts as much as religious ones: moments when communities asked God to protect them from calamity and guide their families and their nation.

Grounded in gratitude

The Continental Congress issued the first national Thanksgiving proclamation in 1777, drafted by Samuel Adams. The delegates called on Americans to acknowledge God’s providence “with Gratitude” and to implore “such farther Blessings as they stand in Need of.”

Twelve years later, President George Washington proclaimed the first federal day of thanksgiving under the Constitution. He asked citizens to gather in public and private worship, to seek forgiveness for “national and other transgressions,” and to pray for the growth of “true religion and virtue.”

Our problems — social, fiscal, and moral — are immense. But they are not greater than the God our ancestors trusted.

Other presidents followed suit. During rising tensions with France in 1798, John Adams declared a national day of “solemn humiliation, fasting, and prayer,” arguing that only a virtuous people could sustain liberty. The next year he called for another day of thanksgiving, urging citizens to set aside work, confess national sins, and recommit themselves to God.

For generations, this was the American understanding: national strength flowed from moral character, and moral character flowed from religious conviction.

The evolution of a holiday

In 1863, President Abraham Lincoln — responding to years of lobbying by Sarah Josepha Hale — established the last Thursday in November as a permanent national Thanksgiving. Hale saw the holiday as a unifying civic ritual that strengthened families and reminded Americans of their shared heritage.

Calvin Coolidge echoed this tradition in 1924, observing that Thanksgiving revealed “the spiritual strength of the nation.” Even as technology transformed daily life, he insisted that the meaning of the day remain unchanged.

But as the country drifted from an agricultural rhythm and from public expressions of faith, the holiday’s original purpose faded. The deeper meaning — gratitude, repentance, unity — gave way to distraction.

When a nation forgets

Today, America marks Thanksgiving with a national character far removed from the one our forebears envisioned. The founders believed public acknowledgment of God’s authority anchored liberty. Modern institutions increasingly treat religious conviction as an obstacle.

Court rulings have redefined marriage, narrowed the space for religious conscience, and removed long-standing religious symbols from public grounds. Citizens have been fined, penalized, or jailed for refusing to violate their beliefs. The very freedoms early Americans prayed to preserve are now treated as negotiable.

At the same time, other pillars of national life — family stability, civic order, border security, self-government — erode under cultural and political pressure. As faith recedes, government fills the void. The founders warned that a people who lose their internal moral compass invite external control.

Former House Speaker Robert Winthrop (Whig-Mass.) put it plainly in 1849: A society will be governed “either by the Word of God or by the strong arm of man.”

A lesson from history

The collapse of religious conviction in much of Europe created a vacuum quickly filled by ideologies hostile to Western values. America resisted this trend longer, but the rising influence of secularism and identity ideology pushes our society toward the same drift: a nation less confident in its heritage, less united by a common purpose.

Ronald Reagan saw the warning signs decades ago. In his 1989 farewell, he lamented that younger generations were no longer taught to love their country or understand why the Pilgrims came here. Patriotism, once absorbed through family, school, and culture, had been replaced by fashionable cynicism.

Thanksgiving offers the antidote Reagan urged: a return to gratitude, history, and shared purpose.

RELATED: Why we need God’s blessing more than ever

Photo by Barney Burstein/Corbis/VCG via Getty Images

Thanksgiving was meant to be the clearest expression of a nation united by faith, family, and patriotism. It rooted liberty in gratitude and gratitude in God’s providence.

Reagan captured that spirit in 1986, writing that Thanksgiving “underscores our unshakable belief in God as the foundation of our Nation.” That conviction made possible the prosperity and freedom Americans inherited.

Today’s constitutional conservatives must lead in restoring that heritage — not by nostalgia, but by example. Families who teach gratitude, faith, and national purpose build the civic strength the founders believed essential.

A return to gratitude

Thanksgiving calls each of us to humility: to recognize that national renewal begins with personal renewal. Our problems — social, fiscal, and moral — are immense. But they are not greater than the God our ancestors trusted.

That confidence is the heart of Thanksgiving. It is why the Pilgrims prayed, why Congress proclaimed days of fasting and praise, why Lincoln unified the holiday, and why generations of Americans pause each November to give thanks.

Editor’s note: A version of this article first appeared at Conservative Review in 2015.

When America feared God: The bold Thanksgiving prayer they don't teach any more



Thanksgiving is an annual reminder of our nation’s Christian roots and our godly heritage. Although Virginia proclaims that the first Thanksgiving was in Jamestown in 1619 — not in Plymouth in 1621 — the Plymouth one became the prototype of our annual celebrations.

George Washington was the first president under the Constitution to declare a national day of thanksgiving, and President Lincoln was the first to declare Thanksgiving an annual holiday.

'It is the indispensable Duty of all Men to adore the superintending Providence of Almighty God; to acknowledge with Gratitude their Obligation to him for Benefits received, and to implore such further Blessings as they stand in Need of ...'

However, Samuel Adams, with the help of two other continental congressmen, was the first to declare a National Day of Thanksgiving for America as an independent nation.

The time was the fall of 1777. Overall, it seemed that things were not going well for the United States. Americans lost the Battle of Brandywine on September 11, which Dr. Peter Lillback notes was our "first 9/11."

George Washington saw that the Brandywine defeat meant the impending fall of Philadelphia, our nation’s capital at the time, into the hands of the British.

So Congress had to flee westward, first to Lancaster and then to York, Pennsylvania. Washington and his troops had to flee westward also. They ended up in a place called Valley Forge. The worst was yet to come with the brutal winter there.

Meanwhile, on October 7, 1777, there was a victory at Saratoga, New York. Samuel Adams of Boston, a key leader in American independence, saw that we as a nation could rejoice in this act of divine Providence. So — with the help of fellow Continental Congressmen Rev. John Witherspoon of New Jersey and Richard Henry Lee of Virginia — Samuel Adams wrote our country’s first thanksgiving declaration as an independent nation.

This is what they wrote in that First National Thanksgiving Proclamation, November 1, 1777: "It is the indispensable Duty of all Men to adore the superintending Providence of Almighty God; to acknowledge with Gratitude their Obligation to him for Benefits received, and to implore such further Blessings as they stand in Need of.”

As humans, as Christians, we should be grateful. They continue, “And it having pleased him in his abundant Mercy, not only to continue to us the innumerable Bounties of his common Providence; but also to smile upon us in the Prosecution of a just and necessary War, for the Defense and Establishment of our unalienable Rights and Liberties; particularly in that he hath been pleased, in so great a Measure, to prosper the Means used for the Support of our Troops, and to crown our Arms with most signal success.”

I think it’s fair to say that Adams, Witherspoon, and Lee were looking for the good news (the Saratoga victory) in a sea of bad news (American setbacks, the latest of which was the defeat at Brandywine).

They continue: “It is therefore recommended to the legislative or executive Powers of these UNITED STATES to set apart THURSDAY, the eighteenth Day of December next, for SOLEMN THANKSGIVING and PRAISE.”

And what were the Americans to do during that day of Thanksgiving and praise? To confess “their manifold sins … that it may please GOD through the Merits of JESUS CHRIST, mercifully to forgive and blot them out of Remembrance; That it may please him graciously to afford his Blessing on the Governments of these States respectively, and prosper the public Council of the whole.”

RELATED: That we may all unite in rendering unto our Creator our sincere and humble thanks

Interim Archives/Getty Images

If someone prayed like this in Congress today, people might try to drive him out of town on a rail — like the leftist members of Congress who blew a gasket when California minister Jack Hibbs prayed in the name of Jesus in Congress in early 2024.

Writing on behalf of Congress, Adams, Witherspoon, and Lee continue: “To inspire our Commanders, both by Land and Sea, and all under them, with that Wisdom and Fortitude which may render them fit Instruments, under the Providence of Almighty GOD, to secure for these United States, the greatest of all human Blessings, INDEPENDENCE and PEACE.”

They also prayed for God “to prosper the Trade and Manufactures of the People,” as well as the farmers, for success of the crops. They also asked for God’s help in the schools, which they note are “so necessary for cultivating the Principles of true Liberty, Virtue and Piety, under his nurturing Hand; and to prosper the Means of Religion, for the promotion and enlargement of that Kingdom, which consisteth ‘in Righteousness, Peace and Joy in the Holy Ghost.’”

This prayer proclamation is no namby-pamby type of prayer such as we might hear from Congress these days. These are bold proclamations of faith, showing the pro-Christian side of the founding fathers that we rarely hear about these days.

This article is adapted from an essay originally published at Jerry Newcombe's website.

Copy Our Neighborhood Pie Night Tradition If You Want To Build A Better Community

In an age where the idols of dissociation and personal comfort demand empty reverence, it is healthy to remind our souls that we are embodied creations living in specific places and communities.

Jehovah's Witnesses: Worshipping with the most hated denomination



After attending a somewhat run-of-the-mill novus ordo Mass with only a few redeeming qualities, my husband and I decided to visit another church in Nevada that is possibly one of the most hated and misunderstood Christian denominations — even with the Latter-day Saints and Seventh-day Adventists.

It was both his and my first time attending a Jehovah’s Witness church.

'I personally don’t want to go to heaven, but want to remain on Earth when we’re resurrected. I want to live among the animals and trees and plants and not rule over others.'

We walked 40-some minutes to the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witnesses and were greeted warmly, even though we were two minutes late and the congregation had already begun singing the first hymn. The setting might have been bland, but I felt I had achieved a bucket-list goal.

For years I’d tried to visit a Kingdom Hall. The Jehovah's Witnesses were one of the last churches to reopen nationwide after COVID, offering online meetings for nearly two and a half years, until summer of 2022. Even after that, many remained closed for another year, and a large portion still host hybrid Zoom/in-person gatherings for the immune-compromised.

Kingdom Hall

To many, the inside of the meeting hall would appear no different from a conservative Protestant church. Most women wore skirts or business suits; the men were in full suits. The carpet was gray, the walls plain, decorated with a few pictures of flowers. There were no windows.

Rows of theater chairs faced a pulpit. Though the Jehovah's Witnesses do not have ordained ministers, any baptized man may teach from Scripture. On the day we visited, a guest speaker from Idaho — tailored suit, bright red tie — delivered a sermon much like any Protestant pastor’s, citing extensive Bible verses to support his points. There was no American flag, unsurprising given JW pacifism. Jehovah's Witnesses do not vote, and while they don’t forbid self-defense, they register as conscientious objectors during drafts. They believe that those who live by the sword will die by the sword (Matthew 26:52).

RELATED: Church-hopping: Confessions of an itinerant worshipper

Keturah Hickman

The sermon

The message, titled “Is There in Fact a True Religion from God’s Standpoint?” began with statistics: 85% of the world identifies as religious, 31% Christian, across 45,000 denominations — with a new one forming every 2.2 days. “But how does Jehovah want to be worshipped?” he asked.

He read from Mark 7:6-7 and James 1:26, then cited Solomon: True religion is to fear God and keep His commandments (Ecclesiastes 12:13). More verses followed — Isaiah 48:17-18, Micah 6:8, Matthew 7:16 — arguing that true belief and conduct must fit like a well-tailored suit, not mismatched pieces.

He condemned most Christian denominations for justifying slavery so that men might Christianize pagan souls for the kingdom of God. He pointed out that the Jehovah’s Witnesses never supported such horrid beliefs. (He failed to mention that slavery was already abolished by the time they came along.) He warned against fatalism, ancestor worship, and faith in human institutions. “If a religion permits or promotes practices the Bible condemns, it is not true,” he said, citing Colossians 3:10, John 8:32, James 3:17-18, and others.

“Truth is found in the word of God,” he concluded. “When we love the word, we are peaceable.”

The sermon ended with the JW hymn “My Father, My God and Friend (Hebrews 6:10)."

All along the Watchtower

After the hymn, an elder read from "The Watchtower," the denomination’s monthly study magazine. Before the group was called Jehovah’s Witnesses, it was the Watch Tower Society, founded by Charles Taze Russell in 1881.

The article that day was “Jehovah Heals the Brokenhearted” (Psalm 147:3). The elder read each paragraph aloud, then passed the microphone for congregants — men and women, in person or on Zoom — to share reflections.

Here are some highlights.

  • Satan wants us to wallow in our feelings. Jehovah wants us to defy Satan and serve Him. When we do that, He sees us and is moved to help us.
  • Jehovah doesn’t keep track of our sins, but only of the good we do.
  • Jehovah does not put a time limit on our prayers as if it were a therapy session. We can pray to Him for as long as we like, and He’ll keep listening.
  • The Son’s sacrifice forgives our past sins so we can move ahead into the future.
  • We can comfort each other by being gentle and genuine.
  • We are not to blame for how others hurt us.

It was repetitive but sincere — an hour-long group meditation on comfort and resilience.

The service ended with another hymn. There was no tithe, and communion is held only once a year for those who believe they are among the 144,000 destined for heaven.

The congregants

Afterward, several congregants welcomed us. One woman, Linda, about 70, explained that she had converted from Protestantism before marrying.

“There aren’t many differences between us and other churches,” she said, “except that we don’t teach what other places teach.”

“Such as?”

“We teach that Jehovah is Almighty God and that Jesus is His son and our Messiah. And we don’t believe in hellfire,” she said. “You can’t really find that idea in the Bible.”

I asked her if that meant that she believes everyone goes to heaven or if they just die.

She said, “The Bible says 144,000 go to heaven to be kings and priests to be the government of the kingdom of heaven that will come to Earth. I personally don’t want to go to heaven, but want to remain on Earth when we’re resurrected. I want to live among the animals and trees and plants and not rule over others.”

Linda gave me a small Bible — I gladly accepted it because it was lightweight and would fit perfectly into my backpack, and until now I had only been able to carry a New Testament. She explained to me that the Jehovah's Witnesses didn’t approve of many of Scofield’s notes in the KJV and that their version had more accurate cross-references. I love having various versions of the Bible to read through, so there was no complaint from me!

She invited us to join her husband and friends at a cafe for a late lunch. And so we went with about 20 other congregants. I sat by a woman just a little older than I. Ozzy had been raised in the Jehovah's Witnesses and had spent much of her youth as a traveling nanny. She told me that nearly six years ago she had married a Grace Baptist Church man and had a daughter with him. They eventually divorced. “I’m just grateful my daughter is learning about God in both homes she’s raised in," she said.

Although Ozzy did not speak ill of her ex-husband, it was clear that she thought her expression of faith was more valid than his. So I asked her what was different between the two theologies, in her opinion.

“That’s a good question," Ozzy said. "Not much."

Then she added:

Except how we define the Trinity — you know, you can’t find that word in the Bible. I’ve searched every translation of the Bible, so I know. We both believe in the concept, though JW is more literal and bases their definition on how the Bible describes it. We believe that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are three separate entities united by a common will. Grace Bible Church is more Catholic when they talk about the Trinity.

After a day with them, I found them sincere and Bible-focused, hardly cult-like. They loved God, quoted Scripture freely, and treated us with warmth — even when I somewhat aggressively asked about one of their more infamous beliefs.

“I have heard that your church does not allow people to get blood transfusions and that this has caused many people to die.”

"Yes, we believe blood is sacred and not to be spilled in war nor ingested for any reason," Linda responded. "But blood can be divided into four components, and it is okay to receive any of those minor fractions.

"Most people don’t even need blood transfusions as much as they used to," she added, noting that "scientists have discovered that there are healthier ways to fill a low blood count with supplements and iron.”

Are the Witnesses a cult?

I’m not sure what makes a group a cult any more. Some say it’s when people follow a man rather than the Bible — but the Jehovah's Witnesses have no central figure. They encourage personal Bible study.

Interestingly, 65% of members are converts — adults who join by conviction, not birth. While many leave, those who stay do so deliberately. Angry ex-members exist in every religion, and that alone doesn’t define a cult.

Much of JW doctrine is nothing your average Protestant would quarrel with: anti-abortion but pro-birth-control, personal responsibility for family size, and no institutional oversight (beyond guidance from JW Broadcasting in New York). There’s also no enforcement mechanism for rules on blood transfusions or holidays.

There are 8.6 million Jehovah’s Witnesses worldwide, compared to 15.7 million Jews, 17 million Mormons, and 22 million Seventh-day Adventists. Many Protestants single out the denomination's rejection of transfusions, but the Jehovah's Witnesses are neither faith healers nor anti-medicine. They are pacifists but politically moderate and scientifically literate.

Charles Taze Russell

Jehovah's Witnesses founder Charles Taze Russell was raised Presbyterian. At age 13 he left his church to embark upon a kind of quest for the truth, for a time backsliding into unbelief.

Known for writing Bible verse on fences as a way to evangelize, he founded a group called the Bible Student Movement in 1879. Much like Mormons, the Two by Twos, and the Jim Roberts Group, his group grew by sending out pairs of men to preach the word of God directly from the Bible.

Despite Russell's zeal, his life was riddled with scandal. He divorced his wife after she demanded a larger editorial influence on "The Watch Tower." He sued for libel often, occasionally winning — one time the jury mockingly ruled in his favor but gave him only one dollar, and so he filed an appeal and received $15,000.

After wrongly predicting the end of the world numerous times, Russell died in 1931. The group split apart. Approximately a quarter of the members remained faithful to Russell’s successors and began calling themselves Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Their use of the name “Jehovah” also irritates critics, though it appears in the King James Bible (Exodus 6:3; Psalm 83:18; Isaiah 12:2; 26:4).

Their rejection of the Nicene Trinity remains the sharpest point of division — a doctrine codified by the Catholic Church and later adopted by nearly all of Protestantism. It’s an irony of history: Protestants who define themselves against Rome still use Rome’s creed as the boundary of belief. Disagreement with that doctrine, however, does not make a faith a cult.

The trend to schism

One striking point from the sermon stayed with me: Every 2.2 days a new denomination is created.

Until the 16th century, Christianity had only a handful of branches. Now there are 45,000. The JW speaker said it is because everyone seeks truth; I think it’s because we’ve forgotten love.

As Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 13: “If I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing.”

What merit is truth without love? God does not honor self-righteous division. This, perhaps, was Martin Luther’s and Henry VIII’s greatest sin — their pride tore Christ’s body into pieces.

Protestants readily maintain friendly regard for Judaism, which does not accept Christ’s divinity, while showing far less tolerance for groups such as Jehovah’s Witnesses, Mormons, or Adventists — who profess Jesus as Lord and Redeemer.

For this reason, I urge believers: Visit all churches. Seek unity where possible. Not to follow fads, but to love the whole body of Christ — even the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

My Ancestors Were At The First Thanksgiving, And You Better Believe I’m Proud Of It

As I sit here writing this piece, I’m keenly aware of my warm socks, my sweatshirt, and the heat humming quietly through my home. In the kitchen, I’ve already prepped pie crusts, peeled potatoes, and stacked ingredients that will all need tending on Thursday morning — Thanksgiving. And while I’ll be rushing around in a […]

Why Gavin Newsom’s Bible quotations should alarm Christians — before it’s too late



The Bible isn’t meant to be a selective tool from which we cherry-pick elements we like and leave behind those truths with which we disagree.

But many of our politicians have a penchant for taking this very approach, with some on the hyper-progressive side commonly enacting policies that directly fly in the face of Scripture.

It’s a diabolical form of spiritual manipulation meant to prey on people’s thoughts and emotions.

Amid the mayhem, some of these individuals have simultaneously perfected the art of gaslighting, often times unexpectedly emerging from the abyss to quote the Bible as an appeal to truth when it suddenly seems to serve their policy proclivity.

Case in point: California Gov. Gavin Newsom (D) recently waxed poetic on the Old and New Testaments, wielding the Bible to condemn the Trump administration over the impact of the recent government shutdown.

Newsom announced during a press conference that he had filed a lawsuit against the Trump administration over Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program benefits, a government program that provides food to low-income Americans.

“It’s also interesting to me because I spent a little time at a wonderful Jesuit university,” Newsom said. “If there was anything I remember about my four years with Father Cos is that the New Testament, Old Testament have one thing dominantly in common — Matthew, Isaiah, Luke, Proverbs. I mean, go down the list. It’s around food. It’s about serving those that are hungry. It’s not a suggestion in the Old and New Testament. It’s core and central to what it is to align to God’s will, period, full stop.”

But he wasn’t done there. The liberal governor went on to say that “these guys need to stop the BS in Washington, D.C.,” and took further aim at political foes who often tout the importance of prayer and yet supposedly don’t align with him on these issues.

“They’re sitting there in their prayer breakfasts,” Newsom continued. “Maybe they got an edited version of Donald Trump’s Bible and they edited all of that out. I mean, enough of this. Cruelty is the policy. That’s what this is about. It’s intentional cruelty, intentionally creating anxiety for millions and millions of people, 5.5 million here in our home state.”

The outrageousness of these statements is beyond anything comprehensible. Newsom isn’t wrong that feeding the poor and helping those in need is a core tenet of Jesus’ call for humanity to love God and love others. But the hypocrisy here is limitless.

The Bible also says a lot about religious liberty, protecting life, and putting God above the whims of man, yet we don’t see Newsom offer the same level of energy on those issues.

RELATED: How liberals hijack the Bible to push their agenda on you

Justin Sullivan/Getty Images

It’s become beyond remarkable to watch some of our politicians behave and legislate in ways that are openly hostile toward the Bible and Christianity, but then start unleashing verses and Christian claims when it’s convenient for their own political agendas.

It’s a diabolical form of spiritual manipulation meant to prey on people’s thoughts and emotions — and it’s particularly rich coming from a political crop of people who have spent the past few years warning about the purported perniciousness of so-called Christian nationalism.

In 2024, Newsom responded to President Donald Trump’s re-election by calling a special session aimed at addressing “reproductive freedoms, immigration, climate policies, and natural disaster response.”

The governor somehow missed the biblical lessons on the value of life, as his statement at the time warned that Trump would likely continue the “assault on reproductive freedom” and limit “access to medical abortion.” Newsom also worried over any “expanding conscience objections for employers and providers.”

The reality is that California is hardly governed as a bastion of Christian and biblical thought. Quite the contrary: In California, basic freedoms are often on the chopping block, with bizarre battles and strange debates taking root.

Newsom was also recently under fire for a post on X seen by many critics as missing the mark on prayer. After the August shooting at Annunciation Catholic Church in Minnesota, Newsom went after White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt.

At the time, Leavitt criticized MSNBC host Jen Psaki’s controversial comments about the shooting after Psaki proclaimed, “Prayer is not freaking enough. Prayers does [sic] not end school shootings. Prayers do not make parents feel safe sending their kids to school. Prayer does not bring these kids back. Enough with the thoughts and prayers.”

When Leavitt called these remarks “insensitive and disrespectful” to those who believe in the power of prayer, Newsom proclaimed, “These children were literally praying as they got shot at.” Newsom’s failure to understand prayer — and his attempt to step into the debate in what felt like an effort to purportedly score political points — wasn’t only unneeded, but it was also grotesque.

Of course, Newsom’s official press office recently did invoke prayer — to lambaste Trump. “Please pray for our President,” a post read. “He is not mentally well.”

Once again, the governor seems to be using faith to push political antics.

These incongruities, when it comes to faith rhetoric, aren’t unique to Newsom. We see it unfold again and again from politicians who seem to rely upon Scripture and faith themes when it’s convenient or expedient, yet other elements of their rhetoric and policy-making ignore elementary biblical truth.

Interestingly, the San Francisco Chronicle noted that Newsom’s invoking of Scripture, in particular, has ramped up in recent weeks.

“In recent months, the California Democrat’s rhetoric has become strikingly biblical,” the outlet noted. “Even his mocking ‘patriot shop’ — which mimics the merchandise sold by President Donald Trump to raise money for his political work — sells a Bible (though, as part of a long-running gag, it is always sold out).”

The Chronicle noted that Newsom has cited his Catholic faith in the past for his choice to end state executions and that he has sometimes referred to his Jesuit education. But, according to the Chronicle, “his overt and repeated references to scripture are new in the past few months.”

Some observers believe Newsom could be gearing up to appeal to middle America and other voters for whom faith is a central part of their identity.

At this point, that’s unclear. But what is evident is that his selective policy-making and proclamations are incongruent — and anyone paying close attention should keep that in mind as they watch Newsom continue to weaponize the Bible for his own political ends.