Extraordinary Vision for Finding Inner Peace and Joy

We live in a society that removes pain with safe zones and bailouts. But what if the real secret to joy is suffering?

Douglas Abrams, co-author of The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World, joined The Glenn Beck Program to talk about how embracing adversity creates opportunity, growth and joy. This important lesson was reinforced by his two co-authors: Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama.

"These two men, in addition to being global icons and moral leaders for the world, are actually really dear friends and love each other and tease each other. And it's kind of extraordinary to see these two men who are so revered, kind of laughing with each other and teasing each other," Abrams said.

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Nobel Peace Prize Laureates the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu have survived more than fifty years of exile and the soul-crushing violence of oppression. Despite their hardships --- or, as they would say, because of them --- they are two of the most joyful people on the planet.

The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World offers a rare opportunity to experience an astonishing and unprecendented look at how to find joy in life's inevitable suffering.

Listen to this segment from The Glenn Beck Program:

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

GLENN: I want to introduce you to somebody, Douglas Abrams. He is an author and editor. He works with people who are -- are trying to create a wiser and better world. And he has -- was allowed to spend time with two men who were both in their 80s and have a very interesting perspective. If I said to you losing what was most valuable to me, losing my country was the best thing that ever happened to me, you would say, "Excuse me? How could you find joy in that?" You know the best thing that could ever happen to you: Going to prison.

I'm sorry. What?

Two people with extraordinary vision when it comes to finding inner peace and joy. I had the opportunity to meet one of them. And it was -- it was a -- a surreal experience. One of the men that he was allowed to spend time with was the Dalai Lama. And the other is archbishop Desmond Tutu. And the book is The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World.

Doug Abrams. Welcome to the program, Doug, how are you?

DOUG: Great to be here, Glenn. Thanks so much.

GLENN: So, Doug, let's start with losing my country as perhaps the thing that set me free.

DOUG: Yeah. It was a pretty extraordinary moment. We had a week together in Dharamsala, India, with the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu.

GLENN: Who, by the way, if anybody doesn't know, that's like way -- it's like, what is it? A 15-hour drive to the closest airport. It's like way out of the way, is it not?

DOUG: It's in the foothills of the Himalayas, in northern India. Many of your listeners know the Dalai Lama had to flee Tibet because the Chinese invaded. And this is his home in exile where we had the privilege of spending this week.

And these two men, in addition to being global icons and moral leaders for the world, are actually really dear friends and love each other and tease each other. And it's kind of extraordinary to see these two men who are so revered, kind of laughing with each other and teasing each other.

And so at one point, you know, Archbishop Tutu -- you know, we were talking about what allows us to have joy in our lives, even in the face of adversity, in the face of a world filled with suffering.

And Archbishop Tutu turned to the Dalai Lama, and he said, "Why are you not morose?" You know, you've been run out of your country. And the Dalai Lama didn't know what the word "morose" was, so he turns to his translator.

And Archbishop Tutu says sad. Why are you not sad? You have -- everything that you love has been taken away from you.

And the Dalai Lama turned to him, and he said, "You know, I tried to step back and take a wider perspective and see that, yes, all of this suffering has happened, but if I had stayed in Tibet, I would have never been able to have the life that I had. I would have never had been able to meet all the people that I've met. I never would have met you."

And he was able to shift his perspective and see -- and even in the face of great suffering that he and his people have experienced, he has had a much richer life than he would have had in what he called his gilded cage, being the holy Dalai Lama, as he said, in Tibet.

And then they started cackling and giggling about how, you know, he probably wouldn't have won the Nobel Peace Prize. And here are these two guys, who have won the Nobel Peace Prize, are joking about these supposedly amazing awards that they've gotten, as if they were, you know, kind of peripheral and funny.

But this was -- the whole week together was filled with these kind of counterintuitive insights about how deeply connected joy and sorrow are and how, in fact, it's through the adversity that we discover our joy and our fulfillment.

GLENN: So, Doug, I -- this is something that my father taught me.

I was whining about my life. I'm a recovering alcoholic. And this is 20-some years ago. And I was whining about my life.

DOUG: Uh-huh.

GLENN: And my dad, who is a baker, who was listening to me whine to him on the phone. And he said, "You know, son, I've got to pull some bread out of the oven. Call me tonight. Make a list of all these things. Because, boy, you have suffered so much. Why don't you call me back tonight."

I called him back within ten minutes. Because the first thing that was on my list was my mother's death. And then I don't remember what was on my list. I got to three or four, and I was like, "Now, wait a minute. Hang on just a second. Well, if that wouldn't have happened, then this wouldn't have happened."

And then I went back up to the list. And I got all the way to my mother when I was a teenager dying. And I thought, "Well, that wasn't -- I mean, yes, that was tragic. But that -- that caused all these other things that have put me in a position of X, Y, Z.

I called my father back, and he picked up the phone. And I said, "You don't have any bread in the oven, do you?" And he just laughed and said, "Wow, you're faster than I thought."

But we are now living in a society that is trying to take away -- is trying to say, "Life is painless. If you fail in business, don't worry, we'll bail you out. Let's have safe zones. Et cetera, et cetera. We do have to try to be better to each other. We do have to try to help one another. But there is something huge.

Don't take away my right to -- to fail or to learn from suffering.

DOUG: Well, this is a really good point. Because you even see it with playgrounds, we're taking away swings because kids could get hurt. And I think -- you know, one of the things that they remind us, is that it is actually the -- the adversity that we face, the suffering we go through. And, you know, I'm speaking as a parent of three kids.

GLENN: Yeah.

DOUG: We want to save our children from suffering.

GLENN: Yes, we do.

DOUG: We want to keep them safe. We want to protect them, but it's actually that suffering, that hardship that they go through that helps burnish their character and make them the people that they are.

You know, when we kind of wrap them in bubble wrap and protect them from life, thinking that we're doing the best thing, we're actually robbing them of their capacity, not only to grow and to learn, but I think what they would say is to appreciate life in such a way that allows it to be richer and more joyful.

GLENN: There is story after story, and it depends on how you tell the story.

For instance, Schindler's List. Powerful. Never cried more than in Schindler's List, until I saw Life Is Beautiful.

Same story. One concentrates on the horror, and the other concentrates on how these people lived in such a beautiful world inside of that horror because of the way they chose to live. Almost impossible to see yourself getting there. What is the secret of getting there?

DOUG: Well, you mentioned Schindler's List. And I also have the privilege of working with this extraordinary woman named Edith Eva Eger, who is 90 years old and is an Auschwitz survivor. And she's an incredible psychologist. And she was working with the military. She worked a lot with the military on PTSD. And she went in to work with these two soldiers back-to-back. And both of them had lost their legs in combat. And the first one was kind of -- was, you know, nodded up in the bed. You know, cursing God and country. And, you know, just -- you know, just furious about what had happened. And understandably so.

The next guy that she goes in to see is in his wheelchair. He says to her, you know, "I feel like I've been given a new lease on life. I'm able to look my children in the eye. I'm still here with them. I never noticed how beautiful the flowers in the garden are."

I mean, you know, it's this focus on perspective. Now, look, you know, this is not to tell people that, you know, suffering is easy or to be Pollyannish or to just say, "You know, we just have to look at the glass as half full."

GLENN: Or to even say, flog yourself because you'll be better. No, not good.

PAT: No, no, no. I don't think we're saying that at all.

GLENN: Right.

PAT: But we're saying that their -- so The Book of Joy, one of the things they talk about are these eight pillars of joy in The Book of Joy. That they fell -- you know, they say, "You know, you can't ran after happiness." Archbishop Tutu says, "That's the fastest way to miss the bus, if you're just kind of running after it and trying to pursue it. But if you cultivate these eight pillars of joy, one of which is perspective, you're much more likely to experience joy in your life."

GLENN: What are the eight pillars?

So there are four pillars of the mind and four pillars of the heart. The four pillars of the heart are perspective, humility, humor, which is crucial for them and for life -- being able to laugh at ourselves and life -- and acceptance. Those are the four pillars of the mind. The four pillars of the heart are forgiveness, gratitude, compassion, and generosity.

And, you know, in The Book of Joy, they -- it's kind of three different parts.

The first part of our dialogue was to understand the nature of joy because, you know, there really are only four fundamental human emotions. There's fear, anger, sadness, and joy, according to the scientists, which they wanted us to bring in.

So really, when we're talking about joy, we're talking about everything that we hang a satisfying and meaningful life on. And, in fact, how we deal with the other three profound human emotions of fear, anger, and sadness. And then we actually -- in part two, we look at the obstacles of joy together and looked at things like fear, sadness, anger, illness, fear of death. All the things that kind of rob us of our joy. And then we explore the eight pillars together.

It was incredible. You know, the dialogue was amazing. But what we try to do is actually bring readers on that journey. Because it was an incredible week together --

GLENN: I bet it was.

DOUG: Not just filled with so much laughter and tears and incredible stories that they were sharing, but we also got to -- the Dalai Lama taught us to meditate. Archbishop Tutu gave the Dalai Lama communion. The Dalai Lama danced for the first time in his life because, you know, Archbishop Tutu in his irrepressible African boogie got him up to dance. It was just -- it was pretty magical.

GLENN: I will tell you I spent -- I was lucky enough to spend about eight hours with Billy Graham about five years ago. And everything that you're talking about, I saw from him. And it's -- there's something to a man who has tried to pursue a spiritual, decent, God-fearing life his whole life. And then is in his 80s. They -- they just have a different look to them. You just look them in the eye, and they -- they are full of joy. They don't have fear because they -- they just know. They just know what they know they know. And the acceptance and love of people who are vastly different than them is -- is humbling. Very humbling.

DOUG: It's really -- it's so true. When I was at HarperCollins, we worked with Billy Graham. And I just -- I do think you see it in all of these great spiritual teachers. But I think one of the things that is so extraordinary is that they shared their humanity with us, in a way that was not saying, "Okay. We're these vaunted, you know, special spiritual guys." They were -- we are these human beings, who are on the path with you.

GLENN: Yeah. Yeah.

DOUG: And as Archbishop Tutu said, "We are all masterpieces in the making. You know, we are all on this path. And sometimes we fall, and sometimes we, you know, have bad days. And sometimes we lose our tempers at our wife, as I did last night." You know, we all go there. But we're all on this -- you know, we're all on this path of trying to be the best people that we can be and to grow and learn in our lives.

And the -- what we wanted to try to do, as we said, you know, for these two men who are in their '80s, to try to bottle what is it about these two people who are two of the most joyous people on the planet, who have experienced such incredible adversity and suffering in their lives and still are able to hold on to that quality of joy.

GLENN: Doug Abrams, thank you so much. I really appreciate it. And we'll talk to you again. And in this season of joy, I wish you lots of joy.

DOUG: You too, Glenn. Thank you so much.

GLENN: Thank you. You bet. The name of the book is The Book of Joy. Lasting happiness in a changing world. Everything that he just said about the eight pillars is -- is exactly what I saw in Billy Graham. Exactly what I saw in Billy Graham. And it was humility and his humanness as well. His -- his taking me by. The hand and saying -- with tears in his eyes, "I failed so many times in my life. I failed, but I tried my hardest."

Was -- oh, my gosh. You are -- you're just like me. And that is -- there's something special about seeing that from somebody the size of these giants. Know somebody who is looking for joy? The Book of Joy. The Book of Joy.

Featured Image: Tibetan spiritual leader, Dalai Lama speaks with the Archbishop Desmond Tutu (L) visit the Concert Noble Building on June 1, 2006 in Brussels, Belgium. (Photo by Mark Renders/Getty Images)

Trump v. Slaughter: The Deep State on trial

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The administrative state has long operated as an unelected super-government. Trump v. Slaughter may be the moment voters reclaim authority over their own institutions.

Washington is watching and worrying about a U.S. Supreme Court case that could very well define the future of American self-government. And I don’t say that lightly. At the center of Trump v. Slaughter is a deceptively simple question: Can the president — the one official chosen by the entire nation — remove the administrators and “experts” who wield enormous, unaccountable power inside the executive branch?

This isn’t a technical fight. It’s not a paperwork dispute. It’s a turning point. Because if the answer is no, then the American people no longer control their own government. Elections become ceremonial. The bureaucracy becomes permanent. And the Constitution becomes a suggestion rather than the law of the land.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

That simply cannot be. Justice Neil Gorsuch summed it up perfectly during oral arguments on Monday: “There is no such thing in our constitutional order as a fourth branch of government that’s quasi-judicial and quasi-legislative.”

Yet for more than a century, the administrative state has grown like kudzu — quietly, relentlessly, and always in one direction. Today we have a fourth branch of government: unelected, unaccountable, insulated from consequence. Congress hands off lawmaking to agencies. Presidents arrive with agendas, but the bureaucrats remain, and they decide what actually gets done.

If the Supreme Court decides that presidents cannot fire the very people who execute federal power, they are not just rearranging an org chart. The justices are rewriting the structure of the republic. They are confirming what we’ve long feared: Here, the experts rule, not the voters.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

The founders warned us

The men who wrote the Constitution saw this temptation coming. Alexander Hamilton and James Madison in the Federalist Papers hammered home the same principle again and again: Power must remain traceable to the people. They understood human nature far too well. They knew that once administrators are protected from accountability, they will accumulate power endlessly. It is what humans do.

That’s why the Constitution vests the executive power in a single president — someone the entire nation elects and can unelect. They did not want a managerial council. They did not want a permanent priesthood of experts. They wanted responsibility and authority to live in one place so the people could reward or replace it.

So this case will answer a simple question: Do the people still govern this country, or does a protected class of bureaucrats now run the show?

Not-so-expert advice

Look around. The experts insisted they could manage the economy — and produced historic debt and inflation.

The experts insisted they could run public health — and left millions of Americans sick, injured, and dead while avoiding accountability.

The experts insisted they could steer foreign policy — and delivered endless conflict with no measurable benefit to our citizens.

And through it all, they stayed. Untouched, unelected, and utterly unapologetic.

If a president cannot fire these people, then you — the voter — have no ability to change the direction of your own government. You can vote for reform, but you will get the same insiders making the same decisions in the same agencies.

That is not self-government. That is inertia disguised as expertise.

A republic no more?

A monarchy can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A dictatorship can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A constitutional republic cannot. Not for long anyway.

We are supposed to live in a system where the people set the course, Congress writes the laws, and the president carries them out. When agencies write their own rules, judges shield them from oversight, and presidents are forbidden from removing them, we no longer live in that system. We live in something else — something the founders warned us about.

And the people become spectators of their own government.

JIM WATSON / Contributor | Getty Images

The path forward

Restoring the separation of powers does not mean rejecting expertise. It means returning expertise to its proper role: advisory, not sovereign.

No expert should hold power that voters cannot revoke. No agency should drift beyond the reach of the executive. No bureaucracy should be allowed to grow branches the Constitution never gave it.

The Supreme Court now faces a choice that will shape American life for a generation. It can reinforce the Constitution, or it can allow the administrative state to wander even farther from democratic control.

This case isn’t about President Trump. It isn’t about Rebecca Slaughter, the former Federal Trade Commission official suing to get her job back. It’s about whether elections still mean anything — whether the American people still hold the reins of their own government.

That is what is at stake: not procedure, not technicalities, but the survival of a system built on the revolutionary idea that the citizens — not the experts — are the ones who rule.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

1 in 20 Canadians die by MAID—Is this 'compassion'?

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Medical assistance in dying isn’t health care. It’s the moment a Western democracy decided some lives aren’t worth saving, and it’s a warning sign we can’t ignore.

Canada loves to lecture America about compassion. Every time a shooting makes the headlines, Canadian commentators cannot wait to discuss how the United States has a “culture of death” because we refuse to regulate guns the way enlightened nations supposedly do.

But north of our border, a very different crisis is unfolding — one that is harder to moralize because it exposes a deeper cultural failure.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order.

The Canadian government is not only permitting death, but it’s also administering, expanding, and redefining it as “medical care.” Medical assistance in dying is no longer a rare, tragic exception. It has become one of the country’s leading causes of death, offered to people whose problems are treatable, whose conditions are survivable, and whose value should never have been in question.

In Canada, MAID is now responsible for nearly 5% of all deaths — 1 out of every 20 citizens. And this is happening in a country that claims the moral high ground over American gun violence. Canada now records more deaths per capita from doctors administering lethal drugs than America records from firearms. Their number is 37.9 deaths per 100,000 people. Ours is 13.7. Yet we are the country supposedly drowning in a “culture of death.”

No lecture from abroad can paper over this fact: Canada has built a system where eliminating suffering increasingly means eliminating the sufferer.

Choosing death over care

One example of what Canada now calls “compassion” is the case of Jolene Bond, a woman suffering from a painful but treatable thyroid condition that causes dangerously high calcium levels, bone deterioration, soft-tissue damage, nausea, and unrelenting pain. Her condition is severe, but it is not terminal. Surgery could help her. And in a functioning medical system, she would have it.

But Jolene lives under socialized medicine. The specialists she needs are either unavailable, overrun with patients, or blocked behind bureaucratic requirements she cannot meet. She cannot get a referral. She cannot get an appointment. She cannot reach the doctor in another province who is qualified to perform the operation. Every pathway to treatment is jammed by paperwork, shortages, and waitlists that stretch into the horizon and beyond.

Yet the Canadian government had something else ready for her — something immediate.

They offered her MAID.

Not help, not relief, not a doctor willing to drive across a provincial line and simply examine her. Instead, Canada offered Jolene a state-approved death. A lethal injection is easier to obtain than a medical referral. Killing her would be easier than treating her. And the system calls that compassion.

Bureaucracy replaces medicine

Jolene’s story is not an outlier. It is the logical outcome of a system that cannot keep its promises. When the machinery of socialized medicine breaks down, the state simply replaces care with a final, irreversible “solution.” A bureaucratic checkbox becomes the last decision of a person’s life.

Canada insists its process is rigorous, humane, and safeguarded. Yet the bureaucracy now reviewing Jolene’s case is not asking how she can receive treatment; it is asking whether she has enough signatures to qualify for a lethal injection. And the debate among Canadian officials is not how to preserve life, but whether she has met the paperwork threshold to end it.

This is the dark inversion that always emerges when the state claims the power to decide when life is no longer worth living. Bureaucracy replaces conscience. Eligibility criteria replace compassion. A panel of physicians replaces the family gathered at a bedside. And eventually, the “right” to die becomes an expectation — especially for those who are poor, elderly, or alone.

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The logical end of a broken system

We ignore this lesson at our own peril. Canada’s health care system is collapsing under demographic pressure, uncontrolled migration, and the unavoidable math of government-run medicine.

When the system breaks, someone must bear the cost. MAID has become the release valve.

The ideology behind this system is already drifting south. In American medical journals and bioethics conferences, you will hear this same rhetoric. The argument is always dressed in compassion. But underneath, it reduces the value of human life to a calculation: Are you useful? Are you affordable? Are you too much of a burden?

The West was built on a conviction that every human life has inherent value. That truth gave us hospitals before it gave us universities. It gave us charity before it gave us science. It is written into the Declaration of Independence.

Canada’s MAID program reveals what happens when a country lets that foundation erode. Life becomes negotiable, and suffering becomes a justification for elimination.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order. If compassion becomes indistinguishable from convenience, and if medicine becomes indistinguishable from euthanasia, the West will have abandoned the very principles that built it. That is the lesson from our northern neighbor — a warning, not a blueprint.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

A Sharia enclave is quietly taking root in America. It's time to wake up.

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Sharia-based projects like the Meadow in Texas show how political Islam grows quietly, counting on Americans to stay silent while an incompatible legal system takes root.

Apolitical system completely incompatible with the Constitution is gaining ground in the United States, and we are pretending it is not happening.

Sharia — the legal and political framework of Islam — is being woven into developments, institutions, and neighborhoods, including a massive project in Texas. And the consequences will be enormous if we continue to look the other way.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

Before we can have an honest debate, we’d better understand what Sharia represents. Sharia is not simply a set of religious rules about prayer or diet. It is a comprehensive legal and political structure that governs marriage, finance, criminal penalties, and civic life. It is a parallel system that claims supremacy wherever it takes hold.

This is where the distinction matters. Many Muslims in America want nothing to do with Sharia governance. They came here precisely because they lived under it. But political Islam — the movement that seeks to implement Sharia as law — is not the same as personal religious belief.

It is a political ideology with global ambitions, much like communism. Secretary of State Marco Rubio recently warned that Islamist movements do not seek peaceful coexistence with the West. They seek dominance. History backs him up.

How Sharia arrives

Political Islam does not begin with dramatic declarations. It starts quietly, through enclaves that operate by their own rules. That is why the development once called EPIC City — now rebranded as the Meadow — is so concerning. Early plans framed it as a Muslim-only community built around a mega-mosque and governed by Sharia-compliant financing. After state investigations were conducted, the branding changed, but the underlying intent remained the same.

Developers have openly described practices designed to keep non-Muslims out, using fees and ownership structures to create de facto religious exclusivity. This is not assimilation. It is the construction of a parallel society within a constitutional republic.

The warning from those who have lived under it

Years ago, local imams in Texas told me, without hesitation, that certain Sharia punishments “just work.” They spoke about cutting off hands for theft, stoning adulterers, and maintaining separate standards of testimony for men and women. They insisted it was logical and effective while insisting they would never attempt to implement it in Texas.

But when pressed, they could not explain why a system they consider divinely mandated would suddenly stop applying once someone crossed a border.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

AASHISH KIPHAYET / Contributor | Getty Images

America is vulnerable

Europe is already showing us where this road leads. No-go zones, parallel courts, political intimidation, and clerics preaching supremacy have taken root across major cities.

America’s strength has always come from its melting pot, but assimilation requires boundaries. It requires insisting that the Constitution, not religious law, is the supreme authority on this soil.

Yet we are becoming complacent, even fearful, about saying so. We mistake silence for tolerance. We mistake avoidance for fairness. Meanwhile, political Islam views this hesitation as weakness.

Religious freedom is one of America’s greatest gifts. Muslims may worship freely here, as they should. But political Islam must not be permitted to plant a flag on American soil. The Constitution cannot coexist with a system that denies equal rights, restricts speech, subordinates women, and places clerical authority above civil law.

Wake up before it is too late

Projects like the Meadow are not isolated. They are test runs, footholds, proofs of concept. Political Islam operates with patience. It advances through demographic growth, legal ambiguity, and cultural hesitation — and it counts on Americans being too polite, too distracted, or too afraid to confront it.

We cannot afford that luxury. If we fail to defend the principles that make this country free, we will one day find ourselves asking how a parallel system gained power right in front of us. The answer will be simple: We looked away.

The time to draw boundaries and to speak honestly is now. The time to defend the Constitution as the supreme law of the land is now. Act while there is still time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

The Crisis of Meaning: Searching for truth and purpose

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Anxiety, anger, and chronic dissatisfaction signal a country searching for meaning. Without truth and purpose, politics becomes a dangerous substitute for identity.

We have built a world overflowing with noise, convenience, and endless choice, yet something essential has slipped out of reach. You can sense it in the restless mood of the country, the anxiety among young people who cannot explain why they feel empty, in the angry confusion that dominates our politics.

We have more wealth than any nation in history, but the heart of the culture feels strangely malnourished. Before we can debate debt or elections, we must confront the reality that we created a world of things, but not a world of purpose.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

What we are living through is not just economic or political dysfunction. It is the vacuum that appears when a civilization mistakes abundance for meaning.

Modern life is stuffed with everything except what the human soul actually needs. We built systems to make life faster, easier, and more efficient — and then wondered why those systems cannot teach our children who they are, why they matter, or what is worth living for.

We tell the next generation to chase success, influence, and wealth, turning childhood into branding. We ask kids what they want to do, not who they want to be. We build a world wired for dopamine rather than dignity, and then we wonder why so many people feel unmoored.

When everything is curated, optimized, and delivered at the push of a button, the question “what is my life for?” gets lost in the static.

The crisis beneath the headlines

It is not just the young who feel this crisis. Every part of our society is straining under the weight of meaninglessness.

Look at the debt cycle — the mathematical fate no civilization has ever escaped once it crosses a threshold that we seem to have already blown by. While ordinary families feel the pressure, our leaders respond with distraction, with denial, or by rewriting the very history that could have warned us.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

We have entered a cultural moment where the noise is so loud that it drowns out the simplest truths. We are living in a country that no longer knows how to hear itself think.

So people go searching. Some drift toward the false promise of socialism, some toward the empty thrill of rebellion. Some simply check out. When a culture forgets what gives life meaning, it becomes vulnerable to every ideology that offers a quick answer.

The quiet return of meaning

And yet, quietly, something else is happening. Beneath the frustration and cynicism, many Americans are recognizing that meaning does not come from what we own, but from what we honor. It does not rise from success, but from virtue. It does not emerge from noise, but from the small, sacred things that modern life has pushed to the margins — the home, the table, the duty you fulfill, the person you help when no one is watching.

The danger is assuming that this rediscovery happens on its own. It does not.

Reorientation requires intention. It requires rebuilding the habits and virtues that once held us together. It requires telling the truth about our history instead of rewriting it to fit today’s narratives. And it requires acknowledging what has been erased: that meaning is inseparable from God’s presence in a nation’s life.

Harold M. Lambert / Contributor | Getty Images

Where renewal begins

We have built a world without stillness, and then we wondered why no one can hear the questions that matter. Those questions remain, whether we acknowledge them or not. They do not disappear just because we drown them in entertainment or noise. They wait for us, and the longer we ignore them, the more disoriented we become.

Meaning is still available. It is found in rebuilding the smallest, most human spaces — the places that cannot be digitized, globalized, or automated. The home. The family. The community.

These are the daily virtues that do not trend on social media, but that hold a civilization upright. If we want to repair this country, we begin there, exactly where every durable civilization has always begun: one virtue at a time, one tradition at a time, one generation at a time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.