Queers for Palestine: The woke left's unholy alliance with Islamism



In our essay last month, we proposed that presumed incoming Alabama governor Tommy Tuberville (R) pursue an aggressive and innovative political strategy to stem the growth of Islam in his state. His challenge, however, is no longer confined to the spread of the so-called religion of peace.

Since the Hamas attacks of October 7, 2023, what had largely been an implicit alliance between Islamist activists and two predominant elements of American progressivism — gender anarchists and racial idolators — has increasingly declared itself in public.

Muslim scriptural and legal traditions often escape the scrutiny applied to Christian texts in progressive circles.

Consider the coalition behind Columbia University's Gaza encampment in April 2024. Columbia University Apartheid Divest brought together 116 student organizations, including the Muslim Students Association, Columbia Queer Alliance, Genderev, the Black Student Organization, and White Coats 4 Black Lives. Its members made common cause under the banner of fighting interconnected systems of oppression. That January, the American Muslim Task Force for Palestine, representing organizations including CAIR and the Muslim American Society, partnered with the left-wing ANSWER Coalition to organize a massive demonstration in Washington.

Strained bedfellows

The alliance is mystifying, to say the least. These two progressive wings treat sex as a social construct and race as the master category of politics. Their Islamist allies adhere to religious traditions that condemn the progressives' core sexual beliefs. What holds them together is a common enemy: the Western political and cultural order, whose foundations are deeply indebted to the Bible.

Classical liberalism and the freedoms associated with it did not emerge from a vacuum or from secular reason alone. The Declaration of Independence's assertion of unalienable rights endowed by a Creator tracks the Bible's claim that human beings bear the image and likeness of God (Gen. 1:26–27). Equality before the law, the restraint of arbitrary power, and the distinction between divine and human authority draw on the Mosaic law's limits on kings (Deut. 17:14–20) and the New Testament's insistence that Caesar's domain is not total (Matt. 22:21; Rom. 13:1–7).

Conscience, proportional justice, the dignity of the individual, and the possibility of ordered liberty under law are human applications, however imperfect, of Old and New Testament teaching. The progressive and Islamist camps challenge this inheritance from very different directions. Progressives increasingly reject biblical moral authority; Islamists seek a political order governed by their interpretation of divine law. Neither has much use for the classical liberal settlement that emerged in the Christian West.

No 'queering' the Quran

Gender idolatry begins by denying the created order stated in Genesis. Male and female are not optional social performances; they are the binary given in the text (Gen. 1:27; 2:18–24). The framework that elevates subjective identity over biological sex treats the Bible's account as an oppressive artifact worthy of dismantling.

Here, traditional Islam and Christianity have considerably more in common with each other than either does with contemporary gender ideology. Both uphold a divinely established sexual order. Both condemn homosexual acts. Their theological foundations differ, but their moral prohibitions frequently overlap.

Traditional Islamic jurisprudence, however, has gone considerably further in the punishments it prescribes. The Quran condemns the conduct of the people of Lot (7:80–81; 26:165–166; 27:54–55; 29:28–29), while one hadith states: "If you find anyone doing as Lot's people did, kill the one who does it, and the one to whom it is done." Iranian law still prescribes the death penalty for certain acts of sodomy. Hamas' record of repression in Gaza offers little comfort to those whose sexual freedom is celebrated in Western progressive salons.

Yet the alliance endures. At New York City's 2024 Pride parade, pro-Palestinian protesters blocked the route beneath a banner proclaiming, "No queer liberation without Palestinian liberation." For these activists, solidarity against a common political adversary evidently outweighs profound differences over sexual morality.

'Race' to conquest

Racial idolatry performs parallel work. The New Testament's declaration that in Christ there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free (Gal. 3:28) supplies an important theological root of the classical liberal rejection of inherited status as the basis of rights. Rights attach to the individual, not to the bloodline, race, or social strata a person is born into.

Intersectionality, as developed by Kimberlé Crenshaw in her 1989 essay "Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex," examines overlapping systems of discrimination associated with race, sex, and other categories. In contemporary progressive politics, this framework is frequently enlisted to sort political conflicts into hierarchies of oppressor and oppressed. Muslims, once treated as outsiders to the Western political order, now occupy a prominent place in the progressive hierarchy of victimhood.

Muslim scriptural and legal traditions often escape the scrutiny applied to Christian texts in progressive circles. Historical Islamic expansionism and the dhimmi (second-class citizen) system are viewed through the lens of Western imperialism rather than subjected to the same criticism directed at Christianity's historical entanglements with political power. This produces a selective hierarchy of harms and victims: Islamic religious claims may receive deference even as the Bible's moral authority is rejected.

RELATED: Is ‘Islamophobia’ irrational?

Daniel Gnap/NurPhoto/Getty Images

A common enemy

The gender and racial wings, therefore, share an enemy with Islamism that is more precise than "conservatism." Their respective doctrines may be incompatible, but both challenge the Western liberal order, which places limits on the claims of political and religious authority over the individual. Consider Judith Butler's description of the October 7 attacks on Israeli civilians as "armed resistance" rather than terrorism. Butler acknowledged that the attacks were terrible but insisted that they be understood as resistance to oppression. The language makes it possible to place Hamas within a progressive account of political struggle despite the movement's deeply illiberal religious commitments.

Anthropologist Philip Carl Salzman has documented the longer "red-green" pattern: leftist and Islamist actors finding common cause against Western institutions and Israel while maintaining incompatible doctrines on sex, apostasy, and religious authority. Historical precedents are hardly encouraging. Secular allies were pushed aside after the Iranian Revolution, demonstrating how quickly a revolutionary coalition can dissolve once the question of who will govern has been settled. History may not repeat, but it does rhyme, and there is no reason to assume the next stanza will end differently.

American progressives appear confident that the alliance can be sustained indefinitely through the shared vocabulary of equity, anti-imperialism, and opposition to patriarchal power. Islamists, meanwhile, have learned to employ that vocabulary in Western academic and media institutions without abandoning their own religious commitments concerning women, homosexuals, or nonbelievers.

The net result is that the classical liberal inheritance, rooted in the Bible's promises about the dignity of the individual and the limits of coercive state or ethnic power, remains their common obstacle. Our proposal that Alabama initiate a constitutional debate, insisting that the state's history and tradition are not interchangeable with Islamic teaching, is one political means of defending that inheritance.

Progressives will always default to acting as though the obstacle is invisible as long as there are constituents who can claim status as victims. Thus, they hope that a shared basket of purported miseries will be sufficient to sustain what is otherwise a shallow alliance of convenience.

The progressives will discover, too late, that the doctrines they dismantled in the name of anarchy and equity were all that stood between them and the caliphate's scimitar. They will also learn that a fungible hierarchy of victimization offers no sanctuary once the victors decide to rewrite the list.

CS Lewis knew how clever people teach themselves to be fools



The new trailer for Greta Gerwig’s “Narnia: The Magician’s Nephew” promises a dazzling sight: a world coming into being. Fans of C.S. Lewis will be watching Aslan and the White Witch. I’ll be watching Uncle Andrew. He may be the book’s most disturbing character because he teaches himself to deny what he knows.

Andrew’s talent for explaining away unwelcome truth raises an uncomfortable question about Gerwig’s adaptation. Will she allow Lewis to tell his Christian story, or will she explain its Christian meaning away?

God speaks through his Word, and Uncle Andrew shows how a person can become so skilled at self-defense that he loses the ability to listen.

As a philosophy professor and Christian pastor, I recognize the temptation. Education can help us discover truth. It can also equip us with elaborate excuses for resisting it. An impressive vocabulary does not guarantee an honest mind.

Lewis introduces Uncle Andrew as a man convinced that intellectual distinction exempts him from ordinary duties. Keeping promises is for lesser people. Andrew knows the secrets of the occult, so he imagines he can send children into dangers he refuses to face himself. He calls his cowardice greatness.

The vice is familiar: Exceptional ability supposedly confers exceptional moral privileges. A radical professor who believes his political vision justifies tearing down inherited institutions uses Andrew’s logic. So does the politician who excuses the dangers of communism or socialism because a glorious future allegedly demands sacrifices now. The superior mind claims authority to break rules it imposes on everyone else.

Then Uncle Andrew meets Aslan.

At first, Andrew hears the Lion’s song as music. It stirs thoughts and feelings he does not want to entertain. He then tells himself that no lion could possibly sing. He must have heard roaring. The longer Aslan sings, the harder Andrew works to believe his own explanation. Eventually he hears only animal noises, even when Aslan speaks.

Lewis gives us the verdict: “Now the trouble about trying to make yourself stupider than you really are is that you very often succeed.”

Notice the order. Andrew recognizes something, resists it, and finally loses the ability to recognize it. His ignorance is learned. What looks like an intellectual limitation begins as a moral refusal.

RELATED: The lion, the witch, and the worldview war

Gisela Schober/Getty Images

That’s why I worry about the film. A director can admire Lewis’s portals, creatures, and cosmic song while rejecting the Creator who gives them meaning. She can retain the scenery and rewrite the moral order. The result may look like Narnia without being Lewis’ Narnia.

A story has more than recognizable characters and scenes. It tells us what is good, what has gone wrong, and what would make things right. For Lewis, creation has a good and authoritative Creator. Sin requires repentance. Redemption answers a need human beings cannot overcome by declaring themselves enlightened.

Could a filmmaker present that vision faithfully without sharing Lewis’ faith? Certainly. But she must first let the author challenge her own assumptions. If Gerwig turns his Christian account of creation into a comfortable endorsement of modern cultural priorities, she will have made Uncle Andrew’s mistake: hearing the song and insisting it is merely roaring.

The trailer cannot settle that question, and I will judge the finished film when it arrives. My concern is what Hollywood so often does to stories whose moral claims it finds inconvenient. An adaptation should not become an exercise in correcting the author.

RELATED: Netflix ‘adapts’ Steinbeck’s ‘East of Eden’ — and Satan gets a sympathetic makeover

Emilio Madrid/Getty Images

Christians, however, should not congratulate themselves too quickly. Uncle Andrew is more than a stand-in for a leftist professor, a politician, or a Hollywood director. Lewis’ warning reaches the church as well.

In Romans 1, Paul writes of people who suppress the truth in unrighteousness. God reveals himself through creation, but human beings refuse to honor him or give thanks. Their reasoning becomes futile, and their hearts grow dark. They claim wisdom as they become fools.

Paul does not describe every unbeliever as someone who merely lacks information. Our desires shape what we are willing to admit. We can demand more evidence while insulating ourselves from the implications of evidence already before us.

Christians can do this, too. We acknowledge God’s revelation in creation, then find reasons to disregard it. We know a biblical command, then use our intelligence to argue that our circumstances make us the exception. We defend Christian books without accepting their correction. Praising Lewis’ theology is easier than submitting to the God he confessed.

That is why Uncle Andrew belongs in a Christian reflection rather than merely a debate over a Netflix film. We should ask whether our explanations clarify the truth or protect us from it. Can we admit that our clever argument was an excuse? Will we confess when God’s Word confronts something we want to keep?

Christ offers forgiveness to sinners who have spent years defending their sins. His grace frees us to abandon our excuses instead of perfecting them.

I hope Gerwig gives Lewis a faithful hearing. The finished film will show us whether she has. Meanwhile, our own hearing deserves examination. God speaks through his Word, and Uncle Andrew shows how a person can become so skilled at defending himself that he loses the ability to listen.

The pulpit answers to God, not the IRS



Before America had a Constitution, it had pulpits.

Pulpits that taught citizens how to think about authority, duty, and the proper limits of government. The ministers later associated with the “Black Robed Regiment” understood that biblical truth must step through the church door. They addressed public questions because they believed theology had consequences for all of life and that pastors had a responsibility not to comfort congregations but to form their biblical worldview.

Critics often accuse pastors of turning biblical issues into political ones. In many cases, the sequence runs the other way.

For most of American history, pastors did not need permission from the state to speak about the moral and political questions confronting their people. They preached about slavery, war, temperance, elections, public officials, religious liberty, and national repentance because they understood the pulpit to be accountable first to God.

Restoring an old right

The modern expectation that pastors should carefully separate biblical teaching from anything deemed “political” would have been foreign to much of the American church that helped shape this country.

That context is important because the fight over the Johnson Amendment is often framed as though churches are seeking some new political privilege. We are not asking the government to give pastors a new right, but to stop restricting an old one.

The origins of the Johnson Amendment are revealing. In 1954, Sen. Lyndon B. Johnson was facing a primary challenge from Dudley Dougherty, a wealthy young Texas politician whose fierce anti-communism appealed to supporters of Sen. Joseph McCarthy.

Dougherty was hardly a formidable opponent — Johnson defeated him by more than 40 points in the Democratic primary — but he had sympathizers in powerful conservative organizations, including the Committee for Constitutional Government and Facts Forum, a media operation established by Texas oil billionaire H.L. Hunt.

Johnson was particularly concerned about the Committee for Constitutional Government, which had circulated material promoting Dougherty. He asked his staff to investigate whether its activities violated election laws or threatened its federal tax exemption. The answer on the latter question was apparently no.

Johnson was undeterred. Having investigated whether existing law could be used against his political opponents, he now proposed changing the law itself. That July he introduced an amendment to the federal tax code barring tax-exempt charitable organizations from participating in political campaigns. It passed without debate. Churches, which had played no part in Johnson's dispute, were covered by the new restriction.

Freeing the pulpit

There was no sweeping national debate about churches corrupting elections. There were no extensive hearings over whether the American pulpit had become dangerously partisan. Johnson claimed to be confronting communist nonprofit organizations, but churches had become a source of political opposition. The law was written broadly enough, encompassing churches; they were heavily affected by its enforcement and soon began receiving letters from the IRS. The restriction ultimately extended far beyond Johnson's immediate political dispute, reaching into the pulpits of American churches for generations.

Today, the Johnson Amendment prohibits 501(c)(3) nonprofit organizations, including churches, from supporting or opposing candidates in political campaigns.

This restriction is at the center of the legal challenge by National Religious Broadcasters. Churches remain free to address public policy issues, including controversial ones, but pastors face restrictions when their speech crosses into supporting or opposing a political candidate. NRB seeks to protect the freedom of churches and their pastors to speak from the pulpit without jeopardizing their tax-exempt status.

The broader concern is what decades of uncertainty, legal caution, and fear of enforcement have produced inside churches themselves: a deep-seated culture of self-censorship.

'Political' ... or biblical?

Critics often accuse pastors of turning biblical issues into political ones. In many cases, the sequence runs the other way. Politicians took questions involving abortion, marriage, sexuality, race, religious liberty, and justice and turned them into partisan battlegrounds.

These were biblical questions long before they were campaign issues.

Politics does not acquire ownership of a moral question merely because politicians begin arguing about it. Scripture had something to say about marriage, government, money, justice, and human dignity long before there were Republicans, Democrats, campaign platforms, or federal agencies. The church does not surrender those subjects when they appear on a ballot.

Perhaps pastors will stop being accused of bringing politics into the pulpit when politicians stop dragging biblical questions into politics.

That does not mean churches should become campaign headquarters. They should not. The pulpit should never become an appendage of either the Republican or Democratic parties. Biblical authority is diminished whenever Scripture is bent to serve political power.

But there is an opposite error: treating “nonpartisanship” as a reason for silence whenever Scripture touches a politically controversial subject.

A pastor should be free to preach biblical truth without compromise and apply it to the real-world questions confronting his congregation. If Scripture challenges the left on abortion, sexuality, family, or religious liberty, he should say so. If it challenges the right, he should say that too. The standard is not partisan usefulness. It is biblical fidelity.

That is why NRB entered the legal challenge to the Johnson Amendment.

The district court dismissed our case on jurisdictional grounds rather than reaching the merits of the constitutional claims. The case is now on appeal. NRB will continue fighting because the government should not stand between a pastor and his responsibility before God.

RELATED: What Fulton Sheen understood about fame that today’s Christian influencers don’t

Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images

Courage required

But the legal fight only reaches so far.

The First Amendment can protect a pastor’s freedom. It cannot produce courage. A court can remove a restraint, but it cannot make a church recover confidence in the authority of Scripture. NRB can fight for the freedom of the pulpit. Pastors must decide whether they will use it.

That question grows more urgent because Christians are being formed every day by institutions that have no hesitation about preaching their own worldview. Social media, universities, corporations, entertainment, political movements, and influencers constantly catechize Americans about morality.

When churches avoid the same subjects because they have become politically controversial, they do not create neutrality. They simply leave the work of formation to everyone else.

America does not need a more partisan pulpit. It does need a freer and more courageous one.

We are fighting to restore an old right: that of pastors to open the Bible, preach the whole counsel of God, and speak to the life of the nation without first asking the government for permission.

OUTRAGE ensues after Christian Chick-fil-A CEO invites LGBTQ+ activists to try CFA's delicious chicken sandwiches



The corporate media are lining up once more to harangue the fans of Chick-fil-A, implying that they are homophobic for eating chicken sandwiches.

The occasion for this latest effort is the first broadcast interview with the company's CEO, in which he talks about how his Christian faith guides the mission of the chicken sandwich company.

'They’re welcome to come eat with us. We’d love to give them a great-tasting sandwich and give them great hospitality.'

"It is our anchor, in the sense of what our corporate purpose states: that we’re in business to glorify God by being a faithful steward of all that’s entrusted to us and have a positive influence on all who come in contact with Chick-fil-A,” Andrew Cathy said.

The interview with Craig Melvin of "Today" was very cordial, but it has inspired headlines claiming newly outraged critics of the company.

Melvin asked Cathy to respond to LGBTQ-identifying people who have boycotted the Christian company's chicken sandwiches over gender, sexuality, and marriage issues.

"Well, for anybody that hasn’t tried us, we’d love for you to come try and have our great-tasting food and the hospitality that we’re known for," Cathy responded. "I think that everybody that will be willing to walk in the door, they’ll see that they’re welcome to come eat with us. We’d love to give them a great-tasting sandwich and give them great hospitality."

Melvin pressed him about conservative statements made by the previous CEO, Cathy's father, in support of conservative Christian causes.

"We’re focused on serving everybody that comes in and eat with us," Cathy responded.

Critics in the comment section of an Instagram clip of the interview included Katie Couric, Valerie Bertinelli, and Chelsea Handler.

"Chick-fil-A CEO faces backlash after LGBTQ interview question," read the headline at WAGA-TV.

"Chick-fil-A CEO slammed over evasive answer about LGBTQ rights during Today interview," was the headline at Entertainment Weekly. That report included comments from two participants in a drag queen television show.

"Chick-fil-A boss grilled over LGBTQ rights as CEO dodges question about chain's controversial past — sparking a furious debate among customers," was the headline at the U.S. Daily Mail.

"Today show host leaves Chick-fil-A CEO spinning over company’s LGBTQ+ stance," claimed the headline at the Independent.

"Don't eat at Chick-fil-A. And don't sleep with anyone who does," was the headline of an opinion piece at Out magazine.

RELATED: Chick-fil-A gets support from surprising ally against religious discrimination from Buffalo

A Blaze News request for comment from Chick-fil-A was not returned in time for publication.

Melvin and his "Today" show co-hosts did not appear to join the boycott, as they hungrily munched on the sandwiches at the end of the segment.

Despite criticism from Valerie Bertinelli and two drag queens, the company manages to earn about $24 billion sales across the board last year, according to Melvin's report.

The Chick-fil-A CEO also proudly reported that the company provided more than 200 million meals for the hungry through charity efforts in the past six years.

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

Billy Crystal no longer trusts God. Christians should listen.



Billy Crystal recently said he has stopped talking to God. “No, ’cause I don’t trust Him,” he told CBS correspondent Tracy Smith. His home burned in the Pacific Palisades fire, and his longtime friend Rob Reiner and Reiner’s wife, Michele, were murdered.

Suppose you were sitting across the table when he said it. What would you say?

We arrive at someone’s sorrow with conclusions before we’ve heard their story. We deliver our answers and leave. They’re still grieving, and now they may also feel guilty for struggling.

I asked that question on my radio program because someone we know may eventually trust us enough to say the same thing. A neighbor who buried a child. Someone who prayed beside a hospital bed and went home alone. Would we hear their anguish or immediately start preparing our answer?

I’ve spent 40 years caring for my wife, Gracie. Her suffering began before I met her. Over her lifetime, she has endured 98 operations and the loss of both legs. Along the way, people have told us what we should believe, how we should feel, and what God was evidently trying to accomplish. Some never acknowledged the weight of what we carried.

Rush Limbaugh used the phrase “drive-by media” to describe reporters who rushed into a story, stirred things up, and moved along, leaving others to deal with the damage. Are we in danger of engaging in drive-by ministry?

We arrive at someone’s sorrow with conclusions before we’ve heard their story. We deliver our answers and leave. They’re still grieving, and now they may also feel guilty for struggling. It costs considerably more to pull up a chair.

Job’s friends managed that at first. They sat silently beside him for seven days because they saw how greatly he suffered. Most of us struggle to give someone seven uninterrupted minutes.

Scripture makes room for anguish. David asks in Psalm 13, “How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?” Those words are in our Bibles. We ought to be able to hear them from someone sitting in our living rooms. David ultimately recalls God’s steadfast love, but the psalm lets us hear his sorrow along the way.

I learned something about the cost of coming near in a dusty prosthetic clinic in Ghana. Through Standing With Hope, the ministry Gracie envisioned after losing her legs, we’ve provided prosthetic limbs in Ghana for more than 20 years.

RELATED: Before pride drives the tractor through the fence

Photo by Peter Rosenberger

On an early trip, a young Nigerian man arrived wearing a prosthesis. Our team was occupied, so I sat down with him. We didn’t share a language, and I couldn’t find an interpreter. With gestures, I asked him to remove his prosthesis and the liner covering his residual limb.

The smell hit me like it had reached out and slapped me. My eyes watered, and a friend sitting several feet away backed up. I feared an infection, but I found no visible wound. He hadn’t properly washed his limb and liner, and my attempts to explain what he needed to do weren’t getting us anywhere.

I understood that he was Muslim. This was not terribly long after September 11. For all I knew, he could have been an enemy of my faith or my country. I didn’t know. What I knew was that he was missing a leg, needed help with his prosthesis, and had come to our clinic.

So I found clean water, soap, and a towel and demonstrated how to wash his limb and liner. At first, my eyes watered from the smell. As I washed his limb, I began to weep over what Christ had done for me.

My own stench was far worse. And mine wasn’t coming off with soap and water. It required His blood.

I could barely keep myself together. I had come to help put legs on people, and there I sat, overwhelmed by the mercy Christ had shown me.

Sitting with someone in anguish can leave us feeling helpless. Physical or emotional trauma makes us uncomfortable. We want to explain something, fix something, or give them something to do. Their grief may outlast everything we know to say.

RELATED: Gavin Newsom invoked Nietzsche. I thought of ‘Blazing Saddles.’

Eric Thayer/Los Angeles Times via Getty Images

Jesus stood at Lazarus’ grave and wept. He knew He was about to raise him, yet He wept. That ought to shape how we approach someone whose sorrow has spilled into words that trouble us.

I want grieving people to know Christ. I want them to know the Savior who bore our sin and rose from the dead. And when I speak of Him, I want to remember how patiently He has dealt with me.

I cannot make sense of why Billy Crystal’s home burned or why his friends were killed. But hearing his words makes me want to pull up a chair and ask, “Tell me about your friends.” Then listen long enough to hear the answer.

That takes time. It may cost us more than we expected. Forty years beside Gracie have taught me that some suffering will still be there when the conversation ends. But Christ has given us ample reason to keep showing up.

He didn’t drive by. He entered.

Talarico gets DEMOLISHED  after he cites Bible in defense of abortion



James Talarico, the Democrat nominee hoping to succeed John Cornyn of Texas in the U.S. Senate, demonstrated at the CNN Jubliee Town Hall on Wednesday that he doesn't require the presence of his Republican opponent to badly lose a debate.

Among the attendees afforded an opportunity during the town hall to raise and discuss sensitive matters with the Senate candidate was Jodi Hunt, an eighth-generation Texas woman and orthodox Catholic who has taught in the University of Dallas' theology department since 2018 and serves as the executive director of the university's Neuhoff Institute for Ministry and Evangelization.

'That's OK. We're both Christians.'

Hunt noted at the outset that like many other Catholics, she is a "one-issue voter. Abortion is a large part of that, and dignity of the human person and natural law."

Fully 67% of Texans identify as Christians, 22% as Catholic, according to 2024 data from the Pew Research Center.

"We believe that at the moment of conception, there is a human life to protect," continued the Texas Christian. "So we struggle with the idea that it's the woman's right to choose."

Hunt added that Democrats' unwillingness to protect "the most innocent among us" not only makes it hard to vote for them but saps prospective voters' trust in their ability to "provide policies to protect the rest of Texans and to promote dignity and human life."

RELATED: Vance: Talarico wears Christianity as a 'skin suit' — and it reveals more than just contempt

Talarico — a part-time Presbyterian seminarian who has attempted to use Scripture to justify abortion and previously preached at a leftist church that regards abortion as a "blessing" — said that "we may come to different moral and ethical conclusions when it comes to the question of 'should abortion be legal or not?' It sounds like you and I do come to a different conclusion. That's OK. We're both Christians."

Dusting off a claim he previously used without much pushback, Talarico asserted that "the Bible is silent on the issue of abortion."

The Catholic theologian proved immune to Talarico's gaslighting.

"The Bible is not silent on abortion," said Hunt. "There is the Ten Commandments. 'Thou shalt not kill.'"

Hunt's statement prompted thunderous applause from the audience.

"If I believed that abortion was murder, that it violated the Ten Commandments, then I wouldn't support it," said Talarico, who has protested the public display of the Ten Commandments.

After stating that he does not regard killing unborn human beings as murder, in a state where killing a pregnant woman counts as a double homicide, Talarico condemned Texas' Human Life Protection Act, claiming that "if we are authentically pro-life, I think we should be disturbed by the outcomes of this extreme abortion ban."

Hunt was joined in refuting Talarico's claim that "the Bible is silent on abortion" by others online, including Susan B. Anthony Pro-Life America, which wrote, "Nope," and Students for Life of America president Kristan Hawkins, who wrote, "No, the Bible is not silent on killing children made in His image."

Chris Gustafson, communications director for the Senate Leadership Fund, said in a statement obtained by Blaze News, "Talarico proved once again that he’s simply too liberal and too dangerous for Texas."

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

To prepare for motherhood, I took a hammer to my smartphone



Ever since my daughter was born, my greatest ambition has been to become the best version of myself so she has every chance at a good life. I worry about how my own frailty and inadequacy might hold her back, stunting her emotionally or spiritually. But I trust that, with Jesus, all things are possible through the grace of God.

The recent trial of Lindsay Clancy has made me think about this responsibility more seriously than ever.

If I start to feel grumpy, I can look down at an object in my home and be encouraged to offer up a quick prayer.

In January 2023, Clancy killed her three young children in their Massachusetts home. Her murder trial ended in a mistrial in September, with jurors unable to agree on whether she should be held criminally responsible. Her lawyers argued that she was suffering from postpartum psychosis.

The crime was horrifying enough. But I found much of the public response almost as troubling. Hundreds of women gathered outside the courthouse to show their support for Clancy. Some spoke of identifying with her struggles as a mother.

I understand the desire to raise awareness of postpartum mental illness and the need for better care. Mothers who are suffering deserve help, and serious mental illness can be devastating. But I couldn't help wondering why a case involving the deaths of three innocent children had become, to such an extraordinary degree, a conversation about the needs and suffering of mothers.

Putting children first

In a healthy society, the murder of three children would remain, first and foremost, a tragedy for those children. We could debate the legal complexities, including whether Clancy was criminally responsible for her actions. We could discuss how to better recognize and treat postpartum psychosis. But somehow the case became a referendum on how society treats mothers, while the children seemed to recede into the background.

I worry that this response reflects a larger problem in how we think about parenting. We increasingly expect children to accommodate the lives we want to lead, rather than accepting that having children requires us to change our lives for their sake.

My own experience of motherhood has been one long exercise in making those changes. I've had to question things I valued before having my daughter, abandoning cherished habits and ambitions that might otherwise consume me or cause me to neglect her.

I've also come to realize that the first change must begin within. I can't be what my daughter needs without Jesus guiding my thoughts, words, and actions. Each day, I try to sacrifice my ego and become a little less selfish — to lose myself without losing my sanity.

Along with prayer, here are some of the practical things that have helped me do that.

Losing the smartphone

After witnessing countless mothers ignoring their children to stare at a smartphone, I decided I would get rid of mine before I ever had children. So on my wedding day, I took a hammer to my smartphone to symbolize my readiness for motherhood.

I believe this decision has positively impacted my initiation into motherhood. Because I haven't been staring at screens, my sleep has improved and I've regained my attention span. I've also had considerably more time to do things I value, such as reading and knitting.

I slept better than expected during pregnancy and since the birth of our daughter. Even with regular interruptions and frequent waking throughout the night, I've generally felt well-rested. I think my ability to fall asleep easily has a lot to do with not spending my evenings on a screen.

Just as important, I haven't been bombarded with TikTok parenting advice reels designed to scare me into buying something I don't need or believing something that might cause me to treat my child like there's something wrong with her.

I do what I feel is best, with some advice from friends and older women I trust, and this has made motherhood feel relatively stress-free.

Our daughter, too, is screen-free. However, she does have access to a radio, which she loves to turn on and dance along with. I never see that horrible dead look in her eyes — she is happy and active, with ample curiosity and passion.

I was nervous that smashing my smartphone might make it harder to keep in touch with friends, but I've never regretted it. I still have a flip phone, which allows me regular phone conversations with my good friends, and I feel I've been more present and focused around my daughter.

This, as well as getting quality sleep and having more time to read or pursue my hobbies, has helped me strike a good balance between giving myself fully to motherhood and maintaining my own interests.

Embrace household chores

A regular, daily routine for household chores also grounds me, keeping me rooted in the moment. I don't use a dishwasher, so I wash the dishes by hand after each meal. I also do a little laundry every morning.

Doing things by hand keeps me out of my head and is a meaningful way to show love to my husband and child by caring for the clothes we wear and the dishes we eat from.

These might seem like mundane chores, but I have been careful to curate clothes and dishes I love so that, as I manage the household, I am maintaining a space I feel fully committed to and in love with.

The things we wear and eat from represent choices I've willingly made. Each garment and object reminds me of my vocation. When I carefully and meticulously care for all the things in my home, I am offered constant reminders to be grateful.

If I start to feel grumpy, I can look down at an object in my home and be encouraged to offer up a quick prayer. By doing this, I take my thoughts captive, as the apostle Paul encourages, and my attitude is readjusted.

RELATED: Jehovah's Witnesses: Worshipping with the most hated denomination

Keturah Hickman

Foster space for secure attachment

Downgrading my phone and choosing to manage my household deliberately and slowly have helped me make our home a peaceful place where I can build a close, secure relationship with my daughter. There are fewer distractions, less rushing, and fewer occasions for angry responses.

There are a few other things that have made this model tenable and enjoyable for me and my daughter: co-sleeping, breastfeeding, and baby-wearing.

In most ways, I am not very crunchy. I mostly do these three things because I am lazy and also have hobbies I haven't wanted to abandon just because I am a mother. Not only have these things allowed my daughter and I to bond, but they enable me to get more sleep, wash fewer dishes, and move about the house with arms unencumbered.

The key to successful co-sleeping for us has been having a floor king-size bed. I never have to worry about the baby rolling out of bed, and there's plenty of room to push her away to have quality time with my husband. Because the baby latches well, we are both able to sleep while she nurses, so I barely have to wake up when she's hungry.

Breastfeeding, in particular, has given me plenty of opportunities to read. With the help of many pillows to get comfortable while I'm awake and nursing, I've managed to read nearly 30 books (mostly nonfiction) since she was born. Imagine if I'd had a smartphone instead!

I don't know what I would have done without baby-wearing either. My baby is what might be classified as a Velcro baby. She is happy as long as she is with me, often in my arms. Wearing her was the only sane solution if I didn't want to use the cry-it-out method. It has also helped me regain my core strength!

When the baby was under 6 months old, I'd use a woven wrap to wear her on my chest while I cleaned or sewed. Now I often have her on my back in an Ergo backpack carrier.

We spend our days together doing everything. We go for long walks and have little conversations throughout the day. When we wake up, no matter how I feel, I begin the day with a smile for my daughter and an exuberant greeting. She responds equally enthusiastically.

And now that she feels safe and connected, she's begun displaying independent spurts where she plays off by herself. As long as I am in eyesight, I can do things for hours on my own without her fretting.

I love watching her discover that she can explore the world on her own while knowing I'm nearby if she needs me.

The joy of sacrifice

Since becoming a mother, I've been struck by how often our culture treats children as obstacles to adult happiness. We're encouraged to pursue our ambitions, protect our independence, and make time for ourselves. None of those things is necessarily bad. But children have needs of their own, and those needs often require us to sacrifice things we would otherwise enjoy.

That sacrifice has brought me far more happiness than I could have anticipated. My life has become smaller in some ways, but richer in others. I've given up a smartphone, slowed down my days, and learned to take pleasure in the ordinary work of caring for my family. I haven't lost myself in the process. I've discovered how much of the person I used to be I can happily do without.

I keep thinking about the three Clancy children and how easily they have been lost in the arguments surrounding their deaths. Whatever conclusions people draw about their mother's mental illness or criminal responsibility, those children deserved a safe and loving home. They deserved to grow up.

I want to give my daughter every chance to do just that. I know I will make mistakes, and I know there will be days when I fall short. But I want to spend my life becoming the mother she needs, rather than expecting her to accommodate the mother I happen to be.

You can medicate despair. You can’t manufacture meaning.



What happens when a society teaches people that they have no lasting purpose, then wonders why they feel hopeless?

I am spending time volunteering with Stranraer Reformed Presbyterian Church in Scotland. On Thursday, October 15, the church is hosting a free public talk on depression at 7 p.m. at the Millennium Centre. Depression deserves our attention because its effects reach beyond individuals into families, communities, and the life of nations.

The Christian still wrestles with sin and sorrow. Yet Christ is working in us. Our hope rests on His faithfulness, not on our ability to manufacture a cheerful mood.

I am also a professor at Arizona State University, where I see the importance of this question among students. The 2024-2025 Healthy Minds Study, based on responses from more than 84,000 students at 135 colleges and universities, found that 37% reported moderate to severe depressive symptoms, and 33% reported moderate to severe anxiety. Both measures had improved since 2022, but the burden remains enormous.

In Great Britain, the picture is troubling too. NHS England found a common mental health condition in 22.6% of adults ages 16-64 in 2023-2024, up from 18.9% in 2014. Among 16- to 24-year-olds, the figure was 25.8%. In Scotland, 2023-2024 data show that 10% of adults reported at least two symptoms of depression and 16% at least two symptoms of anxiety.

Some people seek relief through alcohol or drugs, but self-medication can become another prison. The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism notes that alcohol may temporarily relieve anxiety even as heavy drinking and repeated withdrawal worsen it. The damage can spread outward: The United Kingdom recorded 9,809 alcohol-specific deaths in 2024, and victims in England and Wales believed offenders were under alcohol's influence in 39% of violent incidents in 2023-2024.

Clinical depression is not simply unbelief. Faithful Christians suffer it, and medical treatment can help. My concern here is spiritual hopelessness: What account of life can sustain someone when pleasure fades and suffering remains?

The secular state can fund treatment and other necessary services, but it cannot supply redemption. No program can answer the question that comes before policy: Why should I have hope? If human beings are only material organisms, here briefly and then gone, what lasting meaning does suffering possess?

That does not mean every government intervention fails. It means government has limits. A list of recommended behaviors may help people manage a problem, but it cannot give them a reason to live or reconcile them to God. Our trouble reaches deeper than ignorance of the rules.

A culture that reduces human beings to appetite, chemistry, and consumption should not be surprised by a crisis of purpose. Physical pleasure and distraction cannot bear the weight of the human soul. An evening's escape still leaves tomorrow's question waiting.

RELATED: Where was God? Frank Turek asks the question after Charlie Kirk

Owen Anderson

Christianity begins somewhere else. Human beings are made in the image of God, and Christ redeems His people by His blood. Our lives therefore have meaning now, not merely after death.

Sometimes Christianity itself gets reduced to “when you die, you go to heaven and avoid hell,” as though everything before death were unimportant. That misses our present calling. Alienation from God has consequences now. Clinical depression is no verdict on anyone's salvation, but spiritual despair can foreshadow the hopelessness of separation from God. Communion with Christ brings hope into the present.

First, our feelings do not define us. We cannot always explain why darkness settles over us, but we can bring God's Word to bear on it. The psalmist asks his own troubled soul, “Why are you cast down, O my soul?” (Psalm 42:5). Then he directs it: “Hope in God.” His sorrow is real, but it does not have the final word.

Second, Christianity offers grace rather than a ladder we climb to earn acceptance. Rules can identify wrongdoing, but they cannot free sinners from sin's power. Islam's five pillars, for example, prescribe religious duties, but Islam does not offer the Reformed Christian doctrine of justification by grace alone through faith alone. The distinction is not academic: Christian hope rests on what Christ has done, not on whether we can accumulate enough religious merit.

I find no comparable assurance in religions built around reincarnation. A cycle of death and rebirth governed by karma is not the Christian promise of reconciliation with God and resurrection. Christianity offers a destination, not an endless series of attempts to repair ourselves.

RELATED: What Chris Hansen knows about sin that modern culture forgets

Kelsey McNeal/Disney General Entertainment Content/Getty Images

The Christian still wrestles with sin and sorrow. Yet Christ is working in us. Our hope rests on His faithfulness, not on our ability to manufacture a cheerful mood.

That hope also takes practical form in the church. We visit the lonely, listen to the grieving, pray with the discouraged, and help families bear burdens they cannot carry alone. The sufferer needs patient fellowship, not an accusation that sadness proves spiritual failure. The gospel gives us both a message to proclaim and neighbors to love.

Finally, Christian hope reaches beyond the individual. The Great Commission sends the church into the world because the nations belong within the scope of Christ's saving purpose. History need not follow a straight upward line; setbacks do not cancel God's promises. I believe Scripture points toward a day when “the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord” as the waters cover the sea (Isaiah 11:9).

That gives parents, students, and churches reason to labor faithfully even when today's headlines seem to announce defeat.

Christians have hope to offer a hopeless world. We should bring it into the darkness. If you happen to be in the Stranraer area, join us October 15 at 7 p.m. And for a further resource on spiritual depression, listen to Martyn Lloyd-Jones’ series.

What Fulton Sheen understood about fame that today’s Christian influencers don’t



Humility is the necessary virtue.

Let me unpack that a little: Without humility, Saint Peter will not let you pass through the Pearly Gates.

Our culture has moved so far toward autonomy that we can barely imagine obedience as anything other than weakness.

And what is humility?

Like the old adage says, humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less. If you study the lives of the saints — or, for that matter, almost any historically admirable person — you’ll recognize that humility is an immensely attractive quality.

Celebrity cleric

Blessed Fulton J. Sheen, America’s most famous Catholic bishop of the 20th century, had plenty to be proud of. Now on his way to sainthood, Sheen was a brilliant scholar, a gifted writer, and one of the most compelling communicators of his age. His radio broadcasts reached millions. His television program, “Life Is Worth Living,” drew audiences in the 1950s that rivaled the biggest entertainers in America.

Yet two episodes in Sheen’s life suggest that one of his greatest virtues was not eloquence at all. It was obedience.

The first came before almost anyone knew his name.

After his ordination in 1919, Sheen pursued advanced studies in Europe and distinguished himself at the University of Louvain in Belgium. He became the first American to win the prestigious Cardinal Mercier Prize and earned the university’s coveted agrégé degree. By the time he was 30, Oxford and Columbia reportedly wanted him to teach philosophy.

Then, in 1926, his bishop ordered him home to Peoria, Illinois — not to a university, but to St. Patrick’s, one of the city’s poorest parishes.

Sheen went.

He visited the sick, celebrated Mass, begged for parish funds, and preached. Nine months later, his bishop explained what had happened. People worried that Sheen’s European success had made him “high-hat,” too important to take orders. The parish assignment had been a test.

He passed.

Entertainer in exile

Soon Sheen was sent to teach at Catholic University in Washington, D.C., beginning the public career that would eventually make him famous.

Four decades later, obedience cost him far more.

By then, Sheen was a household name. His television audience reached into the tens of millions. But he had also clashed with New York’s powerful Cardinal Francis Spellman over money Sheen raised for the missions. Sheen appealed the dispute to Rome and prevailed. Spellman, according to accounts of the dispute, did not forget it.

In 1966, Sheen was sent to Rochester, New York. Many biographers have interpreted the transfer as a form of exile: One of the world’s most famous religious communicators suddenly found himself running a relatively modest diocese far from the center of American media.

His years there were difficult. Accustomed to packed auditoriums around the world, Sheen once gave a series of retreat talks in Rochester’s largest auditorium and drew a disappointing crowd.

“The whole world comes to hear Fulton Sheen, except his own diocese,” he reportedly told a fellow priest.

RELATED: Tens of thousands attend beatification of anti-communist TV star priest Fulton Sheen

Dick Lewis/New York Daily News/Getty Images

Right or wrong

It’s tempting to make the lesson here that Sheen’s superiors were right. They were not necessarily right at all. Spellman may have acted vindictively. Sheen himself made mistakes in Rochester. Authority can be petty, shortsighted, and simply wrong.

But that’s precisely why obedience — like its close friend, humility — is a virtue.

Obedience means little when the person in authority agrees with you. Its real test comes when you believe you are more talented, more informed, or more capable than the person giving the order — and perhaps you are.

Modern celebrity culture teaches almost the opposite. Discover your gift. Build your brand. Grow your platform. Maximize your reach. If an institution doesn’t recognize your genius, leave it. If a boss frustrates your calling, find another boss. If a church constrains your ministry, start your own.

That instinct is not always wrong. Institutions can become corrupt, and conscience has claims no human authority can erase. Obedience is not servility, nor does it require cooperating with evil.

But our culture has moved so far toward autonomy that we can barely imagine obedience as anything other than weakness.

Serving in silence

There is a particularly American — and, yes, Protestant — dimension to this. The Reformation elevated individual judgment against ecclesial authority, while the American experiment elevated independence and suspicion of hierarchy. Those impulses produced real goods. But untethered, they can also produce a Christianity in which everyone becomes his own pope, pastor, and doctrinal court of final appeal.

Catholicism proposes something harder: Your gifts are not entirely your own. Your vocation does not entitle you to the largest audience. You may be called to serve where no one applauds. You may even be badly deployed by legitimate authority.

Sheen, who had every reason to believe his voice belonged on the biggest stage available, accepted assignments beneath his stature and endured humiliations he did not deserve.

In 1979, near the end of Sheen's life, Pope John Paul II embraced the frail priest in St. Patrick’s Cathedral and offered what may be the perfect summary of his legacy: “You have written and spoken well of the Lord Jesus Christ. You are a loyal son of the Church.”

Not the most famous son. Not the most brilliant.

A loyal one.

In an age obsessed with building our platforms, Fulton Sheen leaves us with a harder question: Can we remain faithful when obedience costs us the audience we think we deserve?

Don’t hide from Halloween. Use it to love your neighbors.



October is here again, so what the advertisers call "spooky season" is upon us. Stores are packed with Halloween candy and costumes, along with spiders and bats and skeletons (and they have been there since school started, but that’s a complaint for another day).

Last week, we talked about how too many Christians are fixating on what they perceive as the evil of Halloween — its emphasis on ghosts, witches, and death — without acknowledging that it sprang from both Christian and pagan roots and has been largely sanitized into a cultural holiday focused on costumes, candy, and neighborhood fun for children.

DON’T hit them over the head with a Bible. But don’t hide your faith either.

This has led to some (wrongly) judgmental attitudes, much of it springing from bad theology.

I ended that article with a promise that there is a better way to reclaim and redeem Halloween, because surely we Christians can do better than being the always-dark, candy-less house on the block.

Trick or tract?

Our highest calling, of course, is to love our neighbor. And Halloween brings those neighbors to our door, literally. What if we prayerfully and thoughtfully considered how we can bless those neighbors on this one day, with an eye to building relationships?

I am not talking about handing out Christian tracts instead of candy. Don't be that person.

I am talking about eagerly seeking an opportunity to connect with at least one if not more families in your neighborhood with whom you can begin to build relationships. This, in fact, is why God has you where you live (see more on this here).

Let me tell you about what one family did for Halloween. They set up a tent in the driveway, hung lights from it, and under the tent placed their BBQ grill, on which they cooked hot dogs. A table held buns and condiments, a bowl of Halloween candy, and Jell-O shots for the adults. They publicized this on the neighborhood webpage a day or two before Halloween.

To be clear, they weren't Christians seeking to love their neighbor. They were seeking to promote the father's business. But how might we promote our Father's business similarly?

Halloween hospitality

  1. If you have access to one, a tent in the driveway with lights strung on it is very welcoming on a dark night!
  2. Grilling hot dogs was a pretty good idea — another might be a big crock-pot filled with chili, with paper cups and spoons for serving.
  3. A hot drink station with cocoa, cider, tea, etc.
  4. Freshly made pumpkin bread or oatmeal cookies in little treat bags as an alternative to commercial candy.
  5. Set out lawn chairs and invite people to sit down and rest for a moment — and if they do, introduce yourselves and get to know their family.
  6. Let your kids dress up and pass out the goodies (if you also allow your kids to trick-or-treat, one of you can hold down the fort while the other takes the kids around the neighborhood).
  7. Let people know a day or two ahead that you welcome them to come by and "sit a spell," as the saying goes.

This will cost you time, effort, and money. But it is a ministry investment in the lives of precious people God has placed in your neighborhood. You can't love them if you don't make an effort to know them, and you can't know them if you never even meet them.

And they will know you after this!

You could also just set out lawn chairs toward the end of the driveway where you will be able to actually see and converse with the adults as you pass out candy. Compliment the kids' costumes. Ask the adults where they live in the neighborhood. They won't linger long without a reason to stop at your house, but at least you'll physically meet some of them. Since most parents don’t accompany their kids all the way up to the door, you at least have to get out where they are!

RELATED: Halloween isn't opening a door to demons. Christians need to stop pretending it is.

Walter Leporati/Getty Images

A few do's & don'ts

  1. DO wear a costume. Bible costumes are fun. So are a lot of others. Don't be anything that will scare children. Don't be a witch. Don't be the devil (duh).
  2. DON'T hand out Christian literature that talks about how evil Halloween is. In fact, you don't have to hand out Christian literature at all. But if you do, hand it out with full-size candy bars.
  3. DO ask their name and where they live in the neighborhood. Discreetly record a voice message to yourself or write down names and information — the idea, after all, is to use Halloween to start building a relationship. See #6 below.
  4. DON'T exclude your kids from this opportunity. Recruit them to participate as fully as possible in your family blessing the neighborhood, whatever you end up doing.
  5. DON’T be a Halloween hider. What a sad message you send to your children by turning off all the lights to avoid the neighbors. God put you in your neighborhood. Unless you live somewhere with no trick-or-treaters, get out there and redeem the opportunity.
  6. DO follow up! Sometime in November, reach out to someone you met on Halloween and invite him or her over for coffee or to watch the big game or for a casual dinner. Your goal here is to become an authentic friend. As you get to know each other, don’t be afraid to ask for help on something, either — that’s what friends do.
  7. DON’T hit them over the head with a Bible. But don’t hide your faith, either. Practice transparent honesty and pray for the opportunity to discuss deeper things. Until then, BE the deeper thing.

Halloween is an opportunity for your family to bless others and begin forging relationships to lost people in need of Jesus. I would love to hear about your family’s experience redeeming this annual event by loving your neighbor!

Editor's note: This article has been slightly expanded from Diane Schrader's 2025 article on Halloween.