Glenn: Don't be THAT church person

Ok, don’t just read the headline and freak out!

On radio Tuesday, Glenn delivered a passionate monologue on the difference between people who just go to church, and people who really bring the church with them and live their testimony in all of their actions. For too long, Americans have failed to take a stand on the issues that matter. In the words of Thomas Paine, “these are the times that try men’s souls” - will we have the strength to endure them?

Listen to Glenn’s powerful message from the opening of today's radio show below:

Below is a rush transcript of this segment, it mat contain errors:

It was December 23rd, 1776. We were six months into the Revolution. We had lost every single battle. George Washington was on the southern side of -- of the Delaware. And he needed to turn his troops around and cross the Delaware and go up and fight the Hessians. They were the Navy SEALs of the day.

Everyone was saying that George Washington was a failure, and we had gone from 20,000 troops. And we were down to less than 2,000 troops. And nobody wanted to get into the boat and go across the river. Somewhere in the countryside, Thomas Paine, a guy who later became an atheist, was marching in the mud. And he was marching next to a drum.

And a few words kept pounding through his head, and he finally asked the drummer for the head of his trust me, because he didn't have any paper on him. He wrote a few words down. Rolled them up. Gave them to a writer. And said, get this to Philadelphia. Have them print it. And then find George Washington, he needs these words.

They arrived at the side of George Washington on December 24th, 1776. He read them. He wept. He went to his troops. And he read them.

Out loud, he said, these are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will in this crisis shrink from the service of their country. But he that stands by it now deserves the love and thanks of many men and women. Tyranny, like hell, isn't easily conquered, yet we have the consolidation with us that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain to cheap, we esteem too lightly. It is dearness only that gives everything its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods, and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as freedom should not be highly rated.

Whether we should have started this movement long ago or we started too soon, I'm not going to enter the argument. I had my own simple opinion. We didn't use the proper use of the time that we have had. However, the fault, if there be one, is our own. We have no one to blame, but ourselves.

As I read this this morning, I thought to myself, how true that is. Why are we so surprised? We went along to get along. We went along because we didn't want any trouble. I don't want any trouble, and it doesn't matter anyway. Whatever they say, that's fine. It's not going to change anything.

I don't want to hurt anybody's feelings. I'll just be quiet. Don't talk about religion. Don't talk about politics in public. I'm going on to see that movie anyway because I really -- I mean, I know -- my kids know the difference.

It's our failure. It's our failure to stand. Should we have started this long ago? Yeah, probably. But why debate that now?

The only one we have to blame on any of this is us.

How many of us just stopped going to church, and we stopped going to church for a couple of reasons. One, lazy. It's not going to be make a difference. I'm not really sure God exists. Whatever. I'm tired. I'm working all the time.

Or some good reasons. They're not teaching me anything. There's no relevance there. It really doesn't make a difference. Because I go into church and then by the time I hit the parking lot, everybody is honking at each other. Nobody knows each other.

It doesn't make an impact in my life at all. Why am I going to church? That's a failure, not only of the pulpit, but, again, of us. Because we didn't demand that our pulpits would stand. How many of us -- how many of us go to a church right now that isn't talking about things? And have we thought, they're not talking about things because they're afraid. They're afraid that you're going to say something.

Have you thought about getting a bunch of the people that you go to church with and signing a petition and saying, we want you to talk about these things, pastor, priest, rabbi. We want a few things addressed. And all of us are going to stand behind you if you do. Don't worry about what comes. This storm, we will be the shelter from your storm. Because we need to hear the truth on these things.

How many of us went to church and we never talked about -- we never talked about the traditional family. We never talked about abortion. We never talked about euthanasia. We're not talking about the Christians being killed now overseas. We're not talking about the four homosexuals that were thrown off the roof Friday in celebration that love always wins.

We can argue about when we should have started it. What we should have done. We can have that discussion. But why? It's worthless. How about we start right now. How about we start standing right now.

I had to give a talk at church, a youth conference on Saturday. They were about 1500 kids. And I think I took their breath away because I walked up in front of them and I said, you know what, I have to tell you, I don't really like church people. There's kind of a nervous laughter, but they knew that I was serious.

I don't like church people. I don't like church people in most churches because church people are the most judgmental people I've ever met in my life. Church people will tell me their testimony. Oh, that's fantastic. Thank you very much for sharing that.

Here's what I like: I like people who live their testimony. I don't have to ask you for your testimony because I see it in your life.

I don't have to ask you if you go to church because you bring church with you everywhere you go. Everywhere you go is a sacred place.

You live those principles. Not on Sunday when you go. Not on Saturday. But you live them all the time. I don't like church people because church people understand that church is a place that I go on Sunday, and testimony is something that I share occasionally when asked or I have the opportunity to change someone's heart, so I'll share my testimony. I like the people that understand that church is wherever you are and testimony is exactly how I live my life.

I like people that happen to look at church as a hospital. Because that's what it is for me. It's a hospital for my soul. Because I'm on the verge of losing my soul every day. I don't know about you. And if you don't think that you're going to come under attack because these are the times that try men's souls, if you don't think you're going to come under attack with your soul, and everything that, you know, you're fooling yourself.

I need to get in there because I'm so badly wounded, by the time I get to Sunday, I need some medicine. I need some help. I need to be able to make it the next seven days. I don't like church people generally because they worry so much about everybody else's soul. And that's nice. And I appreciate that. And I appreciate their prayers. I really do. But church people generally worry about everybody else's soul so much more than theirs. Because they've accepted Jesus Christ, and that's all they have to do. I'm good. No, no, no, I accepted him. What?

I'm sorry. But I don't buy that. I buy that if you have accepted him, that -- people can spot you a million miles away. When you walk into a room, the room changes. You're different. Because you've accepted him, you've changed. You're not like everybody else. You're quieter. You're more gentle. You understand what your citizenship means, and you're concerned about your citizenship in the kingdom.

See, we've all been so concerned about this kingdom. We've been so concerned about this country. And our citizenship in this country. TIME Magazine said we're exiles in our own land. That's TIME Magazine over the weekend. We're exiles in our own land. We've lost our citizenship, gang. Why? Because we've been quiet.

And we haven't trusted the power of God. We say a bunch of stuff, but I don't think we even believe that stuff. Why are we so defeated? Do you not -- tell me that everything that you don't understand and you don't believe, that everything is according to his will. That everything will be used for the good of those who love him.

I do. So why are we defeated? We're defeated because we worry about everybody else. We're defeated because we see what's happening on television. We see what people are like in colleges. We see what people are like in our own business. We see what people are posting. But we don't see what he's doing. Because we're not taking any time to be quiet enough, humble enough, to listen to what he's doing. To find out what he's doing. And what he's doing right now, I'm convinced, is he's preparing his people. Gird up your loins.

Do you know what that means? Gird up your loins. It's when those guys used to wear those -- I don't know -- what do you call those -- dress things. And they didn't have pants. So what you had to do was you reached down from behind your legs and you grabbed the skirt thing that you were wearing -- your tunic, and you pulled it up behind you. Then you took each end of it and you tied it in front of you so it became almost like a diaper. Why? Because you were about to go into battle. You needed to move quickly. You couldn't be tripping on your tunic.

Gird up your loins. That's what he's telling his people right now. Gird them up. Get ready. You haven't seen anything yet. You haven't seen evil yet. You don't even know what's coming your way. But have faith in me because evil doesn't have any idea what's coming its way.

We lost our first citizenship. I'm not going to lose my second citizenship. And that's the only one I care about. And, yes, I care about your citizenship, and I will pray for you. My family and I pray for you every day. And I hope you pray for me every day. And I will worry about others. And I will talk to them about the truth at any time that I can. But I will live my testimony. So I don't have to talk to everybody because there's too many people to talk to.

Hopefully they will see it, and they will say, I want to be more like that guy. Because that's the way I learned. My friend, Pat, I wanted to be more like that guy. He could weather the storms that I couldn't. Why?

Because he knew what the truth was.

Now is the time. You let him and his word be your sword. You let him be your shield. But we must be gentle. We must be loving. We must clothe ourselves in humility. We must be bold, yet humble. Bold, yet kind. Bold, yet loving.

That's hard. We've never done that before.

There's a lot coming. Thomas Paine said, I once felt that kind of anger which men ought to feel. But I was standing at the door of a tavern with a man who had a pretty child at his hand, about eight or nine years old. And after speaking his mind as freely as he thought was prudent, he said, just give me peace in my day.

But if there be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child should have peace.

He said, I thank God that I fear not, for I see no real cause for fear. I'm going to quit this class of men. Men who are smarter, perhaps than I. Or wealthier than I. I turn with warm ardor of a friend, those who have nobly stood and are yet determined to stand the matter out. I call not upon a few, but upon all. Not on this state or that state, but on every state to help us. Lay your shoulder to the wheel. It's better to have too much force than too little.

Let it be told to the future world, that in the depth of winter, when nothing, but hope and virtue could possibly survive, that the city in the country alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet it and repulse it. Say not that thousands were gone. Turn out your tens of thousands. Throw not the burden on the day to Providence, but show your faith by your works that God may bless us.

It matters not where you live or what rank of life you hold. The evil or the blessing will reach you all. The far and the near. The home counties and the back. The rich and the poor. Will suffer or rejoice alike. That heart that feels it not right now is dead. And the blood of his children will curse his cowardice. The man who shrinks back at a time when a little might might have saved the whole and made them happy. I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress, and that can grow brave by reflection.

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: AI-written country song tops charts, sparks soul debate

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.