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Glenn: This is the weekend to change your life

April 18, 2014
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The Glenn Beck Program

On this Good Friday, Glenn delivered a deeply personal monologue about the ability to overcome obstacles and start fresh. “This is the weekend to change your life,” Glenn said as he discussed his own journey and a vivid dream he had in 1996 that changed his entire way of thinking.

Below is a rough transcript of the monologue:

Have you ever gotten to the point you just wish you could start over? ‘Like man, I just can't get there from here.’ That's the most amazing thing. And I still think many times, my first response is: You can't get there from here. How? I've got this going on in my life or this happening. I can't get there from here.

That is one of the biggest lies. I think there are a few things that are huge lies that our society teaches us now. That is: You're not capable. You're not able. You just won't be able to make it. You need somebody else or some other thing to complete you – whether that is another person in your life, a spouse, a boyfriend, girlfriend, children; whether that is a new job, a new car, a new house, a new career. Whatever it is, it just will not complete you. When Tom Cruise came in and said, ‘You complete me.’ No, no. She really doesn't. She was hot, and it was great. She helped. She was a great soul mate. But she doesn't complete you. Nothing completes you. You are born complete. The weirdest thing is that a baby is born with everything they need. A baby is born with the ability and the road map already in them. The plan's already there. All they have to do is start activating it. But somehow or another we get lost.

Today there's a lot of Christians around the world that are marking Good Friday. This is Passover week. I have been praying all this week that the destroyer, the Angel of Death would pass over our house – meaning not just our home, but our country – that the destroyer would not visit here, that they would see the mark on our door.

I was reading some things this week, and I wondered: What is the difference between faith and courage? A bunch of us talked yesterday afternoon, we got together after work, and I said, ‘Is faith and courage the same thing?’ And we went back and forth and debated that for a while. I don't think you can have courage, real courage, without faith in something – faith in yourself, faith in your ability, maybe misplaced faith, faith in God.

You have faith in God. You don't sit down. You don't stop because you know, no matter what, you're an unarmed 80-pound weakling. It doesn't matter. I watched the first Captain America with my son this week. We watched it, and here's the 80-pound weakling getting beat up in the alleyway, and the bully says, ‘You never give up. You don't give up.’ He said, ‘No. I could do this all day.’ And the reason why is because he had faith in something. He believed in something bigger. He didn't like bullies, and he wanted to stand up against bullies, and he had faith that there was such a thing as justice. And he got pummeled in the alleyways over and over and over again, but because this is a cartoon, because this is a Marvel comic, what happens to him? He's put into a machine, juiced up with serum and becomes Captain America. That's not the way real life works, unfortunately. Real life is a little harder than that.

So what is the difference between faith and courage? Is there a difference? I think there is, actually, as I have been thinking about it. I asked my daughter – just trying to work off that college education because she took ancient studies and Greek and Latin – and I said King James translates faith, hope and charity, but the last word is actually love. And I called my daughter and I said, ‘Could you translate this for me?’ I said, ‘What is the actual Greek word?’ She said, ‘It's agape… It is the highest form of love.’ There are different words in Greek for ‘love,’ but ‘agape’ is the highest form of love. It is love of God.

Then I realized, faith and courage are not the same thing because I could have faith that I'm going to win. I could have faith in my country. I could have faith in the principles. I could have faith in God, and I'll fight hard. But if I have love, I don't ever stop. If I love my country, if I love my family, I never give up. I never stop. There's never any question. I love it. I defend it. I think love and courage go hand in hand. Without faith, there is no hope. Faith gives you hope. Love gives you courage.

How could one guy, a normal guy change the world with faith, with hope, with love? And the greatest of those is love. And so today we mark the day that one man was given his cross to carry, but we look at this story always as just one guy who was the savior of the world, just that. He's just the savior of the world. Saves all of us. Wildly important, but why were they calling for Barabbas? When Pilot came out and said we have a custom where we can release one person… so who do you want? You want this Jesus guy, who I can't find any fault in, or do you went Barabbas? Why were they screaming for Barabbas? Why would people scream for a murderer? Because he wasn't a murder. That's not what they saw him as. They saw him as a liberator. They were looking for revolution. They were looking for a guy that would topple the government, the oppressive government. They were looking for a guy named Barabbas because he promised vengeance was his. He would kill them, and he would lead a squad to kill them.

Barabbas was released. Did he change the world? Barabbas was released. Did he topple the government? No. No, he didn't. Jesus was not released, and Jesus died on that day. Did he topple it? Oh, yes, he did, with faith, hope and love.

You can't get there from here. Yes, you can. ‘I made too many mistakes in my life.’ No, you haven't. ‘I'm not worthy.’ ‘You don't know me.’ Yes, I do. You didn't know me. Takes five years to really change a man's life. If you're like me, done so many things and had all those moments back, you would change, but you don't think you can. And then you start to, and then something happens, and you fall into a pattern. And it takes five years to truly change, to really wash yourself clean of those patterns. And it takes five years of every week bathing in that water again and saying, ‘Okay, one day at a time, one week at a time.’ And when you really change is when you really love.

Pat will tell you my slogan I used to say it all the time? Pat, what was my slogan, when you first met me?

PAT: I hate people.

GLENN: Any part of me now?

PAT: No. Not even close. I would say it's the total opposite now. Yeah, it was pretty sincere then.

STU: To the point you like people you should hate. You came to the point --

PAT: And have been very forgiving of people who have done you wrong. It's a total change.

GLENN: There's only one reason that that has happened, and it wasn't that I needed it. It wasn't that I wanted it. It was I was given that. I worked for it, but I could never earn it. And I was given that because of the one guy who died 2000 years ago.

If you happen to be struggling, ‘Well, nobody knows me.’ Listen to me: I do. I know how hard it is. I know how dark it is. I know how alone you feel. I know how insignificant or how guilty you might feel. How tired you are. I get it. There's no such thing as a coincidence, and you are listening to this broadcast for a reason. This weekend is the weekend you're supposed to change your life. This is the weekend that you are supposed to say, ‘Okay, I'm starting all over.’

I had a dream in 1996. I changed my life in 1994. In 1996, after I had done so much work – remember, it takes five years – I had done so much work, but I still hadn't really looked into everything. I wasn't going to look into my family, any of that stuff, because I was comfortable. I had a dream, and an old man came to me in a dream. In this dream, I'm standing in a broken corn field that is gray and brown and everything was seepy and dirty, and it was snow and the corn stalks were broken on their side. And I was standing on the black top that was broken and crumbling and gray. And the sky was gray. And as far as I could see, there was nothing but destruction. Everything was dead, dead of winter. And I started turning around in a circle there, trying to figure out where I was going to go, and I saw behind me was this storm, this massive storm. And it was black and undulating and almost a black hole, drawing me in. And I looked at that, and I turned from it.

That's when I heard the voice of an old man. And he said, ‘Where are you going?’ And I said, without looking at him, ‘I don't know. Anywhere but there.’ That's when I turned to him and looked at him. He had like a beard, but it was all like the smoker color, all yellow, and he was all tattered and dirty, wearing tattered clothes. He looked like a bum. And he said, There's nothing to that.’ He said, ‘That's all in your making. There's nothing to that. There's nothing there.’

And I said, ‘That will kill me.’ And he said, ‘No, you have to go through the storm. Let me show you what's on the other side.’ He reached out his hand. I don't know how we got there, but we had gone through the storm and on the other side we were flying. We were up above everything. I could see the other side of the road that I couldn't see because the storm was blocking it. We were now on the other side of the road. Everything was in technicolor. I had never seen a dream so vivid as this, and the grass was super-green, and the flowers were reds and purples and yellows and the blues, deepest, most beautiful blue I had ever seen.

And I didn't look at him. He was behind me again. He said, ‘This is what's on the other side.’ I said, ‘It's so warm here.’ He said, ‘There's nothing to the storm, but you have to go through it.’ As I turned, I woke up. I saw only for a fraction of a second, only saw about a quarter of his face, but now he was pure white, and his beard looked like fiber optics. He was made of light. I woke up.

I painted a picture of that storm. That dream changed my life. I had faith. I had hope. And I had witnessed love. This is the weekend to change your life and begin again.

The melting pot fails when we stop agreeing to melt

Spencer Platt / Staff | Getty Images

Texas now hosts Quran-first academies, Sharia-compliant housing schemes, and rapidly multiplying mosques — all part of a movement building a self-contained society apart from the country around it.

It is time to talk honestly about what is happening inside America’s rapidly growing Muslim communities. In city after city, large pockets of newcomers are choosing to build insulated enclaves rather than enter the broader American culture.

That trend is accelerating, and the longer we ignore it, the harder it becomes to address.

As Texas goes, so goes America. And as America goes, so goes the free world.

America has always welcomed people of every faith and people from every corner of the world, but the deal has never changed: You come here and you join the American family. You are free to honor your traditions, keep your faith, but you must embrace the Constitution as the supreme law of the land. You melt into the shared culture that allows all of us to live side by side.

Across the country, this bargain is being rejected by Islamist communities that insist on building a parallel society with its own rules, its own boundaries, and its own vision for how life should be lived.

Texas illustrates the trend. The state now has roughly 330 mosques. At least 48 of them were built in just the last 24 months. The Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex alone has around 200 Islamic centers. Houston has another hundred or so. Many of these communities have no interest in blending into American life.

This is not the same as past waves of immigration. Irish, Italian, Korean, Mexican, and every other group arrived with pride in their heritage. Still, they also raised American flags and wanted their children to be part of the country’s future. They became doctors, small-business owners, teachers, and soldiers. They wanted to be Americans.

What we are watching now is not the melting pot. It is isolation by design.

Parallel societies do not end well

More than 300 fundamentalist Islamic schools now operate full-time across the country. Many use Quran-first curricula that require students to spend hours memorizing religious texts before they ever reach math or science. In Dallas, Brighter Horizons Academy enrolls more than 1,700 students and draws federal support while operating on a social model that keeps children culturally isolated.

Then there is the Epic City project in Collin and Hunt counties — 402 acres originally designated only for Muslim buyers, with Sharia-compliant financing and a mega-mosque at the center. After public outcry and state investigations, the developers renamed it “The Meadows,” but a new sign does not erase the original intent. It is not a neighborhood. It is a parallel society.

Americans should not hesitate to say that parallel societies are dangerous. Europe tried this experiment, and the results could not be clearer. In Germany, France, and the United Kingdom, entire neighborhoods now operate under their own cultural rules, some openly hostile to Western norms. When citizens speak up, they are branded bigots for asserting a basic right: the ability to live safely in their own communities.

A crisis of confidence

While this separation widens, another crisis is unfolding at home. A recent Gallup survey shows that about 40% of American women ages 18 to 39 would leave the country permanently if given the chance. Nearly half of a rising generation — daughters, sisters, soon-to-be mothers — no longer believe this nation is worth building a future in.

And who shapes the worldview of young boys? Their mothers. If a mother no longer believes America is home, why would her child grow up ready to defend it?

As Texas goes, so goes America. And as America goes, so goes the free world. If we lose confidence in our own national identity at the same time that we allow separatist enclaves to spread unchecked, the outcome is predictable. Europe is already showing us what comes next: cultural fracture, political radicalization, and the slow death of national unity.

Brandon Bell / Staff | Getty Images

Stand up and tell the truth

America welcomes Muslims. America defends their right to worship freely. A Muslim who loves the Constitution, respects the rule of law, and wants to raise a family in peace is more than welcome in America.

But an Islamist movement that rejects assimilation, builds enclaves governed by its own religious framework, and treats American law as optional is not simply another participant in our melting pot. It is a direct challenge to it. If we refuse to call this problem out out of fear of being called names, we will bear the consequences.

Europe is already feeling those consequences — rising conflict and a political class too paralyzed to admit the obvious. When people feel their culture, safety, and freedoms slipping away, they will follow anyone who promises to defend them. History has shown that over and over again.

Stand up. Speak plainly. Be unafraid. You can practice any faith in this country, but the supremacy of the Constitution and the Judeo-Christian moral framework that shaped it is non-negotiable. It is what guarantees your freedom in the first place.

If you come here and honor that foundation, welcome. If you come here to undermine it, you do not belong here.

Wake up to what is unfolding before the consequences arrive. Because when a nation refuses to say what is true, the truth eventually forces its way in — and by then, it is always too late.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Shocking: Chart-topping ‘singer’ has no soul at all

VCG / Contributor | Getty Images

A machine can imitate heartbreak well enough to top the charts, but it cannot carry grief, choose courage, or hear the whisper that calls human beings to something higher.

The No. 1 country song in America right now was not written in Nashville or Texas or even L.A. It came from code. “Walk My Walk,” the AI-generated single by the AI artist Breaking Rust, hit the top spot on Billboard’s Country Digital Song Sales chart, and if you listen to it without knowing that fact, you would swear a real singer lived the pain he is describing.

Except there is no “he.” There is no lived experience. There is no soul behind the voice dominating the country music charts.

If a machine can imitate the soul, then what is the soul?

I will admit it: I enjoy some AI music. Some of it is very good. And that leaves us with a question that is no longer science fiction. If a machine can fake being human this well, what does it mean to be human?

A new world of artificial experience

This is not just about one song. We are walking straight into a technological moment that will reshape everyday life.

Elon Musk said recently that we may not even have phones in five years. Instead, we will carry a small device that listens, anticipates, and creates — a personal AI agent that knows what we want to hear before we ask. It will make the music, the news, the podcasts, the stories. We already live in digital bubbles. Soon, those bubbles might become our own private worlds.

If an algorithm can write a hit country song about hardship and perseverance without a shred of actual experience, then the deeper question becomes unavoidable: If a machine can imitate the soul, then what is the soul?

What machines can never do

A machine can produce, and soon it may produce better than we can. It can calculate faster than any human mind. It can rearrange the notes and words of a thousand human songs into something that sounds real enough to fool millions.

But it cannot care. It cannot love. It cannot choose right and wrong. It cannot forgive because it cannot be hurt. It cannot stand between a child and danger. It cannot walk through sorrow.

A machine can imitate the sound of suffering. It cannot suffer.

The difference is the soul. The divine spark. The thing God breathed into man that no code will ever have. Only humans can take pain and let it grow into compassion. Only humans can take fear and turn it into courage. Only humans can rebuild their lives after losing everything. Only humans hear the whisper inside, the divine voice that says, “Live for something greater.”

We are building artificial minds. We are not building artificial life.

Questions that define us

And as these artificial minds grow sharper, as their tools become more convincing, the right response is not panic. It is to ask the oldest and most important questions.

Who am I? Why am I here? What is the meaning of freedom? What is worth defending? What is worth sacrificing for?

That answer is not found in a lab or a server rack. It is found in that mysterious place inside each of us where reason meets faith, where suffering becomes wisdom, where God reminds us we are more than flesh and more than thought. We are not accidents. We are not circuits. We are not replaceable.

Europa Press News / Contributor | Getty Images

The miracle machines can never copy

Being human is not about what we can produce. Machines will outproduce us. That is not the question. Being human is about what we can choose. We can choose to love even when it costs us something. We can choose to sacrifice when it is not easy. We can choose to tell the truth when the world rewards lies. We can choose to stand when everyone else bows. We can create because something inside us will not rest until we do.

An AI content generator can borrow our melodies, echo our stories, and dress itself up like a human soul, but it cannot carry grief across a lifetime. It cannot forgive an enemy. It cannot experience wonder. It cannot look at a broken world and say, “I am going to build again.”

The age of machines is rising. And if we do not know who we are, we will shrink. But if we use this moment to remember what makes us human, it will help us to become better, because the one thing no algorithm will ever recreate is the miracle that we exist at all — the miracle of the human soul.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Is Socialism seducing a lost generation?

Jeremy Weine / Stringer | Getty Images

A generation that’s lost faith in capitalism is turning to the oldest lie on earth: equality through control.

Something is breaking in America’s young people. You can feel it in every headline, every grocery bill, every young voice quietly asking if the American dream still means anything at all.

For many, the promise of America — work hard, build something that lasts, and give the next generation a better start — feels like it no longer exists. Home ownership and stability have become luxuries for a fortunate few.

Capitalism is not a perfect system. It is flawed because people are flawed, but it remains the only system that rewards creativity and effort rather than punishing them.

In that vacuum of hope, a new promise has begun to rise — one that sounds compassionate, equal, and fair. The promise of socialism.

The appeal of a broken dream

When the American dream becomes a checklist of things few can afford — a home, a car, two children, even a little peace — disappointment quickly turns to resentment. The average first-time homebuyer is now 40 years old. Debt lasts longer than marriages. The cost of living rises faster than opportunity.

For a generation that has never seen the system truly work, capitalism feels like a rigged game built to protect those already at the top.

That is where socialism finds its audience. It presents itself as fairness for the forgotten and justice for the disillusioned. It speaks softly at first, offering equality, compassion, and control disguised as care.

We are seeing that illusion play out now in New York City, where Zohran Mamdani — an open socialist — has won a major political victory. The same ideology that once hid behind euphemisms now campaigns openly throughout America’s once-great cities. And for many who feel left behind, it sounds like salvation.

But what socialism calls fairness is submission dressed as virtue. What it calls order is obedience. Once the system begins to replace personal responsibility with collective dependence, the erosion of liberty is only a matter of time.

The bridge that never ends

Socialism is not a destination; it is a bridge. Karl Marx described it as the necessary transition to communism — the scaffolding that builds the total state. Under socialism, people are taught to obey. Under communism, they forget that any other options exist.

History tells the story clearly. Russia, China, Cambodia, Cuba — each promised equality and delivered misery. One hundred million lives were lost, not because socialism failed, but because it succeeded at what it was designed to do: make the state supreme and the individual expendable.

Today’s advocates insist their version will be different — democratic, modern, and kind. They often cite Sweden as an example, but Sweden’s prosperity was never born of socialism. It grew out of capitalism, self-reliance, and a shared moral culture. Now that system is cracking under the weight of bureaucracy and division.

ANGELA WEISS / Contributor | Getty Images

The real issue is not economic but moral. Socialism begins with a lie about human nature — that people exist for the collective and that the collective knows better than the individual.

This lie is contrary to the truths on which America was founded — that rights come not from government’s authority, but from God’s. Once government replaces that authority, compassion becomes control, and freedom becomes permission.

What young America deserves

Young Americans have many reasons to be frustrated. They were told to study, work hard, and follow the rules — and many did, only to find the goalposts moved again and again. But tearing down the entire house does not make it fairer; it only leaves everyone standing in the rubble.

Capitalism is not a perfect system. It is flawed because people are flawed, but it remains the only system that rewards creativity and effort rather than punishing them. The answer is not revolution but renewal — moral, cultural, and spiritual.

It means restoring honesty to markets, integrity to government, and faith to the heart of our nation. A people who forsake God will always turn to government for salvation, and that road always ends in dependency and decay.

Freedom demands something of us. It requires faith, discipline, and courage. It expects citizens to govern themselves before others govern them. That is the truth this generation deserves to hear again — that liberty is not a gift from the state but a calling from God.

Socialism always begins with promises and ends with permission. It tells you what to drive, what to say, what to believe, all in the name of fairness. But real fairness is not everyone sharing the same chains — it is everyone having the same chance.

The American dream was never about guarantees. It was about the right to try, to fail, and try again. That freedom built the most prosperous nation in history, and it can do so again if we remember that liberty is not a handout but a duty.

Socialism does not offer salvation. It requires subservience.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Rage isn’t conservatism — THIS is what true patriots stand for

Gary Hershorn / Contributor | Getty Images

Conservatism is not about rage or nostalgia. It’s about moral clarity, national renewal, and guarding the principles that built America’s freedom.

Our movement is at a crossroads, and the question before us is simple: What does it mean to be a conservative in America today?

For years, we have been told what we are against — against the left, against wokeism, against decline. But opposition alone does not define a movement, and it certainly does not define a moral vision.

We are not here to cling to the past or wallow in grievance. We are not the movement of rage. We are the movement of reason and hope.

The media, as usual, are eager to supply their own answer. The New York Times recently suggested that Nick Fuentes represents the “future” of conservatism. That’s nonsense — a distortion of both truth and tradition. Fuentes and those like him do not represent American conservatism. They represent its counterfeit.

Real conservatism is not rage. It is reverence. It does not treat the past as a museum, but as a teacher. America’s founders asked us to preserve their principles and improve upon their practice. That means understanding what we are conserving — a living covenant, not a relic.

Conservatism as stewardship

In 2025, conservatism means stewardship — of a nation, a culture, and a moral inheritance too precious to abandon. To conserve is not to freeze history. It is to stand guard over what is essential. We are custodians of an experiment in liberty that rests on the belief that rights come not from kings or Congress, but from the Creator.

That belief built this country. It will be what saves it. The Constitution is a covenant between generations. Conservatism is the duty to keep that covenant alive — to preserve what works, correct what fails, and pass on both wisdom and freedom to those who come next.

Economics, culture, and morality are inseparable. Debt is not only fiscal; it is moral. Spending what belongs to the unborn is theft. Dependence is not compassion; it is weakness parading as virtue. A society that trades responsibility for comfort teaches citizens how to live as slaves.

Freedom without virtue is not freedom; it is chaos. A culture that mocks faith cannot defend liberty, and a nation that rejects truth cannot sustain justice. Conservatism must again become the moral compass of a disoriented people, reminding America that liberty survives only when anchored to virtue.

Rebuilding what is broken

We cannot define ourselves by what we oppose. We must build families, communities, and institutions that endure. Government is broken because education is broken, and education is broken because we abandoned the formation of the mind and the soul. The work ahead is competence, not cynicism.

Conservatives should embrace innovation and technology while rejecting the chaos of Silicon Valley. Progress must not come at the expense of principle. Technology must strengthen people, not replace them. Artificial intelligence should remain a servant, never a master. The true strength of a nation is not measured by data or bureaucracy, but by the quiet webs of family, faith, and service that hold communities together. When Washington falters — and it will — those neighborhoods must stand.

Eric Lee / Stringer | Getty Images

This is the real work of conservatism: to conserve what is good and true and to reform what has decayed. It is not about slogans; it is about stewardship — the patient labor of building a civilization that remembers what it stands for.

A creed for the rising generation

We are not here to cling to the past or wallow in grievance. We are not the movement of rage. We are the movement of reason and hope.

For the rising generation, conservatism cannot be nostalgia. It must be more than a memory of 9/11 or admiration for a Reagan era they never lived through. Many young Americans did not experience those moments — and they should not have to in order to grasp the lessons they taught and the truths they embodied. The next chapter is not about preserving relics but renewing purpose. It must speak to conviction, not cynicism; to moral clarity, not despair.

Young people are searching for meaning in a culture that mocks truth and empties life of purpose. Conservatism should be the moral compass that reminds them freedom is responsibility and that faith, family, and moral courage remain the surest rebellions against hopelessness.

To be a conservative in 2025 is to defend the enduring principles of American liberty while stewarding the culture, the economy, and the spirit of a free people. It is to stand for truth when truth is unfashionable and to guard moral order when the world celebrates chaos.

We are not merely holding the torch. We are relighting it.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.