Allie Beth Stuckey defends viral testimony of man’s formerly ‘promiscuous’ wife — and the wife responds



When Trevor Sheatz shared part of his wife's testimony on X, it immediately began to trend. The post, which discusses his formerly “promiscuous” wife, Ashley Sheatz, regaining sexual purity through Christ, racked up millions of views — and unfortunately also opened the floor to intense criticism.

Even criticism from respected conservative Christian commentators.

“I saw my friends at Daily Wire also disagree with how this person worded his testimony,” BlazeTV host Allie Beth Stuckey says on “Relatable,” before playing a clip of Daily Wire host Michael Knowles.

“I agree with so many of the points he’s making, and yet, there’s something wrong with this post, right? You shouldn’t call your wife a ‘whore’ on social media, I think? ... You don’t need to talk about your past sins all the time,” Knowles said.


“He did not call his wife that. You called his wife that. You called another man’s wife that. You called a new creation that. Like, you called a person who has been redeemed by Christ, who has been sanctified and made new and as pure as the driven snow because of Christ, a ‘whore,’” Stuckey responds.

“That is on you. That is not on her husband, OK?” she says, pointing out that it’s largely the “hyper-patriarchy bros who call themselves Christians” who are taking “any opportunity not only to denigrate women but to denigrate the work of the gospel.”

“And then of course, you do have people, which OK, who say, ‘Yeah, all that’s well and good, but still like, we shouldn’t be promoting this kind of thing, virginity matters, and all of that.’ Again I would say Trevor said that. Trevor didn’t say anything against virginity,” she adds.

Stuckey points out that Trevor’s main point was that his wife has been made anew, not that virginity does not matter.

“That’s going to seem scandalous to the world because most people can’t understand that level of honesty and transparency and the lack of shame that you have once you are in Christ,” she says.

“I think Ashley’s testimony points to the grace and redemption and the opportunity that each and every one of us has in Christ. And I’m so thankful for her courage,” she adds, before reading Ashley’s response to the backlash.

“Becoming a Christian in general opens you up to ridicule, slander, and shame, but it is worth it for the sake of the gospel. Jesus is worthy. ‘Blessed are you when people insult you and persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of Me.’ (Matthew 5:11),” Sheatz wrote.

And Sheatz even tells Stuckey that she “wasn’t embarrassed at all” by the response.

“Praise God that my testimony is being seen by millions of people, millions of unsaved people, and the gospel is being magnified in that. Zero shame. And my husband knows I do not mind him at all sharing any aspects of my testimony,” she explains.

“I always praise God when I’m reviled and persecuted for righteousness' sake as Jesus talks about in the Beatitudes. It is a blessing. It’s hard. But it’s still a blessing,” she adds.

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The day I preached Christ in jail — and everything changed



In the summer of 2024, I joined a nearby ministry that took the gospel into a local detention center, talking about the God of the Bible and his son, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, to young men and women incarcerated for felonies and awaiting transition to prisons where they would serve their sentences.

I had just been confirmed in the Catholic Church a year earlier, so I was skeptical about how much value I could add. It was also the first time I was making my way through the Bible in a serious manner, using a Didache Bible, which incorporates the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

Without His sacrifice on the cross, there is no resurrection, He does not achieve victory over death, and our path to salvation is forever obscured.

The woman who coordinated the ministry ran each week's 45-minute session for about a dozen or so attendees, all there voluntarily; most were black and male. Each meeting involved a Bible reading followed by discussion and questions and answers. It was very moving to watch the inmates work their way through the Bible. They were earnest in their questions, observations, and admissions about the reality of their lives.

At my third session, after the opening prayer, the coordinator introduced the topic for the day, and she asked me to lead the discussion on what it means to be a man. I was caught completely off guard. But then something miraculous happened: For about a minute, I said things that not only had I never said before, I had never even thought them before.

In retrospect, I now understand what Christians mean when they say that the Holy Spirit spoke through them.

I told these young inmates that there were two essential characteristics of manhood: the willingness to take responsibility and the courage to sacrifice.

To that end, I said, Jesus was the ultimate man. He took responsibility for each one of us and, as Tim Tebow puts it so beautifully, the wounds inflicted upon Him are our sins. Because we cannot redeem ourselves from our own sin without the grace of God, the God who loves each one of us sent His son to bear responsibility for what we cannot: literally the moral weight of a world that is drowning in the wrongs of each person.

Jesus also satisfied the second element because he willingly sacrificed himself on the cross, not just for us, but (paraphrasing Tim Tebow again) because of us. His death was the ultimate sacrifice because it was voluntary, substitutive, and redemptive. Without His sacrifice on the cross, there is no resurrection, He does not achieve victory over death, and our path to salvation is forever obscured.

I told the young inmates that no matter why they were there (we never discussed their crimes), it was time to take responsibility, so that when released they might find a better path forward.

It required doing things that were simple but profound, starting literally as soon as they walked out of that room:

  • Resist the temptation to join gangs.
  • Stand up for an inmate who needs help.
  • Improve their reading, writing, and basic math skills through the prison library.
  • Start or join a Bible study.
  • Pray daily, not only for the Lord's forgiveness, but to hear His words.
  • Profess Christ as their Savior.
  • Speak plainly and without profanity.
  • Harm no one, and never seek vengeance against another inmate or a guard for a perceived wrong.

I also told them to build physical discipline — which works in tandem with spiritual discipline, as it had in me — because if their bodies were to be temples of the Holy Spirit, then they were responsible to guard and develop their physical capacities, which are a divine gift.

As the Gospel of John tells us, Jesus carried his cross — the horizontal beam, which likely weighed about 100 pounds — to Golgotha, where He died. How many American men could pick up and carry 100 pounds even 100 feet, let alone doing so while beaten and bleeding?

I talked about my own life, how I came to finally acknowledge Christ as King, and how He freed me from lifelong addictions to both pornography and anger. I said that if they doubted the love of a God whom they did not know (as I long did), they might reflect on my life experience.

My mortal father, a Marxist, had limited capacity for responsibility and sacrifice because of his unremitting mental illness. However, God the Father, in His boundless mercy and wisdom, did not forsake me even when I did and said horrible things; He guided me when I was at my poorest and weakest, and He steered me through a life full of completely improbable twists and turns that ultimately all worked for my good, which is His promise. And then, I finally opened my heart to Him and His word.

When I was done, there was dead silence.

After exiting the building and meeting in the parking lot, as was our habit each week, the coordinator was in tears. She said, "I don't know where to find more godly men like you." She was absent for the next couple of weeks, but during that time, she clearly reconsidered this immediate post-meeting assessment.

In a late July 2024 conference call, she dismissed me from the ministry. It dawned on her after my testimony that she could not have a Catholic man on her team. She further went on to explain that there could be no theological distance between her and others who presented to the inmates, and thus neither I nor my Didache Bible were welcome to return.

I was appalled, but I replied by quoting Christ himself. In the Gospels, Jesus basically told the apostles (paraphrased): "If someone will not hear your testimony, shake the dust [of their house] from your feet when you depart" (Matthew 10:14; Mark 6:11).

I never went back, and I never heard from her again.

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ZU_09/Getty Images Plus

The final twist to this tale is my departure from the Catholic parish where I came face-to-face with the risen Christ. Things started to slide downhill when the parish promoted content developed by Jesuit Fr. James Martin to adults in a class on Catholicism. Martin was Pope Francis' personal emissary to the LGBTQ alphabet mafia and recently persuaded Pope Leo to allow a procession with a rainbow cross into St. Peter’s Square.

However, the parish did not believe it important to tell recipients who Martin was or why he was controversial.

The coup de grâce was a homily on Mother's Day in which the priest — who in Masses I attended had never once asked assembled parishioners to pray for Christians slaughtered weekly in Nigeria by Islamic jihadis or for girls whose spaces were invaded by men in dresses — requested prayers for those facing persecution.

He identified three persecuted groups: the aborted child, the illegal immigrant, and the gay person. To conflate the murdered babies with deportation of people here illegally and the ceaseless promoters of sexual anarchy was an abdication of moral responsibility in which biblical truth was casually and carelessly sacrificed on the altar of political ideology.

Jesus was most assuredly not a politician. Had He been so, He would have lectured the Romans about how to run their empire. He was God made man to die on the cross for our sins, so that we may live eternally with Him.

I may be Catholic, but no one summarizes this better than the late, great Voddie Baucham: The Bible does not tell you to invite Jesus into your heart. It tells you to repent and believe, so that you may joyously and willingly obey His laws and commandments and live with Him eternally.

In other words: Follow in the footsteps of the ultimate man.

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A Jew for Jesus: My baptism story and journey to Christ



Sometimes, life has this way of turning down the volume on all the chaos, and in that stillness, we get a clear glimpse of what truly matters. One of these moments occurred in my life last month.

It was a quiet January night, just a few days before the presidential inauguration. I was lying in bed in the middle of the night with my 6-year-old, Echo, gently calming her after a night terror had awakened her. As she finally drifted back to sleep, I felt a heaviness settle over me, thick and suffocating, like the air before a storm. It pressed against my chest, not like a weight, but like a presence — something unseen yet undeniable. At that moment, I could only think to bow my head, close my eyes, and offer a silent prayer to God.

The valley of the shadow of death

In September 2024, our family suffered a heart-wrenching loss — one I’m not prepared to speak about in detail yet, but I will when the time is right. Not long after the tragedy, I met an incredible woman named Diane, a bishop, who had prayed with me after my loss and was the first to ask me if I wanted to be saved. (I’m still getting the hang of the lingo. Some say pastor, preacher, or minister, depending on the church — but I know Diane as a deeply faithful soul who helped guide me closer to Jesus. For that, I am forever grateful.)

I first crossed paths with Diane through my masseur, Ade — pronounced “Ah-day” — a Mayan-Mexican immigrant I got to know after my divorce from Echo’s dad. Ade is a kind, quiet Christian who would whisper prayers for me while he worked without ever letting on. It wasn’t until months later that he told me about it. To this day, he remembers the first time we met and how worried he was about me. Coming out of my previous marriage, I was thin, fragile, totally worn down, and in anguish.

Faith is not about having all the answers but about trusting in the one who does.

One day, it finally hit me that his prayers were doing more to heal me than the deep tissue massage ever could. As we were wrapping up a session, I asked, “Hey, Ade, do you know anyone who can help keep ‘bad energy’ away from people? Basically an exorcism.” Ade looked at me, paused, and simply said, “Yes — when you are ready.”

In the weeks following our family’s loss, I saw Ade again, and as he had so many times before, he prayed for me. But this time was different. I bowed my head, let the tears fall, and begged for God’s help. It was then that Ade connected me with Diane.

The water and the blood

That next morning in January, I called Diane, who had texted me earlier, “I want to talk with you about getting baptized.” This felt like the final confirmation of something I already knew: It was time. I called her then, and we decided that on Sunday (the day before President Trump’s inauguration), she and her husband, Peter, would baptize me in my backyard.

As she pulled into my driveway, I was struck by her presence. Like me, she is a woman of mixed race from Oakland. With piercing blue eyes and curly black hair, she is a grandmother in her 70s with a quiet strength about her. I soon learned she was no ordinary chaplain but, in fact, the lead chaplain at Santa Rita Jail, the fifth-largest jail in the country.

Image source: Nicole Shanahan

During that meeting, Diane opened her worn and well-loved Bible — filled with highlights, underlines, and Post-it tabs. A book that had been studied and prayed over thousands of times. She moved through it with laser precision, guiding me to verse after verse as I struggled to read through my blurry, tear-filled eyes. The pain of life sometimes can consume your entire reality, and the injustice, the loss, and the extreme nature of it all can feel genuinely unbearable. The weight of the world, perpetuated by greed, lies, and indifference, can often feel hopeless. Diane looked at me and said with absolute certainty that Jesus could save me — that his blood is able to wash away sins and defeat the darkness that haunts the innocent.

I think it took the pain of that moment, the desperate need for hope, and the unwavering intensity in Diane’s eyes to finally break through the last, most stubborn skeptic in me. When Diane asked if I wanted to be baptized, I didn’t hesitate — I said yes.

The whole armor of God

I’ve always believed in God, but I never fully grasped the reality of the devil. Growing up with a father who seemed overcome by his demons, I try to avoid “bad energy.” He was addicted to alcohol and would fall into manic rages, yelling profanities at the wall. He would scream, laugh, cry, and wail all in a single evening, alone downstairs in our home in Oakland. I was taught that my father was a “sick” person, but I never seriously considered whether demons were real — until recently. Honestly, my last year in politics changed that. Learning just how far some will go to inflict atrocities on innocent Americans has shocked me awake. Other unexplainable events have also forced me to reconsider whether we are waging a war not merely with flesh and blood but with spiritual forces.

Many people shy away from acknowledging the reality of spiritual warfare. But anyone who has seen addiction up close or lived through deep trauma and witnessed how evil takes hold in this world knows that the battle of good versus evil isn’t just theoretical — it’s real and all around us.

Demons certainly exist, and Jesus is our covenant with God to fight them. When I said “yes” to accepting Jesus as my savior, I felt something I could hardly put into words. It was like being wrapped in a warm cocoon while becoming a grounded, weighted, immovable obelisk.

I’ve long practiced meditative prayer, influenced by years of practicing yoga, studying Eastern religions, and engaging in “personal development” through programs like the Hoffman Process. But now, my prayers are directed toward Jesus. He is the bridge between us and heaven — our intercessor before the divine creator.

A Jew for Jesus

In the summer of 2014, I converted to Judaism.

As I wrote to my rabbi at the time, “I am choosing to become Jewish for many reasons. One of the largest aspects of Judaism I’ve come to enjoy is that it brings families together, and if I’m going to give my future kids something I didn’t have growing up, Judaism provides a wonderful blueprint.” (I was engaged to marry a Jewish man then, and we had celebrated Jewish holidays for years together.) The process was long and immersive: over a year spent at Congregation Emanu-El in San Francisco, attending study sessions and group conversion classes several times a week. I wrote a 10-page conversion statement — one of the best pieces of writing from that chapter of my life, in hindsight. It was a deep dive into the Torah, guided by the wisdom of several teachers.

For over a decade, I identified as Jewish. But now, with the New Testament in my hands, I see the world’s spiritual pain in a way I never could before. It’s like a veil has been lifted, revealing a deeper understanding of the struggle between light and darkness.

Today, I am a Jew for Jesus.

Image source: Nicole Shanahan

When my partner, Jacob, heard I was getting baptized, he didn’t hesitate. “I want in — I want to be baptized, too,” he said. I smiled and said, “Great, we’ll both be Jews for Jesus!”

Jacob comes from a rich and complex spiritual lineage. His father is a Brooklyn-born Ashkenazi Jew, and his mother is a blonde Scandinavian Lutheran from Ohio. Although raised in the American Jewish tradition, Jacob has felt a pull toward Christianity in recent years. He also sensed that something was missing in his spiritual journey.

Jesus longed more than anything to save “God’s lost sheep.” It was the deepest, most unfulfilled desire of the holiest being to walk this earth. And I believe that longing still exists today — an aching truth we’ve ignored, distorted, and misunderstood for far too long. The universe itself is pressing us forward, like cheese through a grater, forcing us to feel the weight of God’s pain, the sorrow of a Father who gave his only Son, only to see him rejected instead of upheld as the one true Messiah.

For those who are searching, who feel the same longing I once did, I can only say this: Keep asking, keep seeking, keep knocking. Faith is not about having all the answers but about trusting in the one who does. And when you find him, you will know you are finally home.

Nisi Dominus aedificaverit domum, in vanum laboraverunt qui aedificant eam. Amen.

— (@)
“I Was Living a Double Life:” Breaking Free from LGBTQ Sin | Guest: Richard Matthews | Ep 1106
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Alex Jones’ ‘eerily accurate’ prediction on Biden leaving the race — and what may happen next



President Joe Biden ended his campaign this week, and to no one's surprise, Alex Jones was right again.

“Your prediction was eerily accurate to the day on which he would step down,” Liz Wheeler of “The Liz Wheeler Show” tells Jones. “Who’s behind that? Who made him step down? I have a very hard time believing that it was him.”

“We know the answer to that,” Jones says confidently. “The question is: What are the specifics?”

“It’s a big deal,” he continues. “Biden’s been out of his mind for years, the perfect puppet, and now they know that one’s going to buy a new election steal if it’s him. So, they want Kamala or Newsom or Hillary or ‘Big Mike’ Michelle Obama or Kamala. Anybody but him.”

“That’s why I’ve been predicting they would remove Biden imminently. Which they did,” he adds.

While no one knows exactly what has happened to the president, there are theories swirling. And Jones has his own.

“The point is that Biden was refusing to step down, and I said last week, I said, ‘He will have a medical emergency,’” Jones says. “They just tried to kill Trump, that's failed. Biden’s refusing to step down. It’s the same Deep State that wants full control and people that follow their orders.”

Now that Biden’s out, Americans have been left wondering who the Democratic nominee will be. While it seems that Kamala Harris will step into Biden’s shoes, Jones isn’t so sure.

“It needs to be Kamala on paper under the law to get the 198 million as of yesterday — it’s probably up now,” he tells Wheeler.

“But the Democrats have said that they want to have kind of a weird snap primary where the delegates or the donors with the delegates decide who’s there to at least act like it’s Democratic,” he continues.

“I mean, the sky’s the limit. They already tried to kill Trump, in my view. They already tried to take Trump off the ballot. They’ve already done all this, so we’re really seeing the desperate coup of the Democrat-controlled Deep State out in the open right now,” he adds.


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