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Mindreaders

By Amy Spiegel

Flipping the calendar from August to September brings a mixture of emotions. We say goodbye to family reunions and road trips, and hello to back-to-school sales and football season. Extra hours of sunlight after dinner, fading into fall colors and pumpkin spice everything.

This year marks two momentous September anniversaries that many Americans will observe with sadness: the 25th anniversary of 9/11 and the first anniversary of Charlie Kirk’s assassination. Charlie’s death doesn’t hold the same weight in scale or significance as the terrorist attack on the Twin Towers and the Pentagon, but it is, at least among conservatives, an “I remember where I was when I heard the news” moment.

As an avid consumer of conservative online content, primarily through YouTube podcasters, the months following Charlie Kirk’s assassination have been unsettling, to say the least. I cried along with my favorite podcasters, trying to absorb what we wish we could unsee. They, of course, were mourning not just the loss of a colleague and fellow conservative, but a friend. I was mourning the loss of a respected leader and the glorious feeling of hope and positivity that had predominated the Republican Party after President Trump’s inauguration.

But then came his memorial service, and an atmosphere of such profound unity and power. It was as if Charlie’s death had unleashed the Spirit in a way that was almost tangible. Testimonies started popping up across social media from folks who had previously judged Charlie a racist transphobe who were now actually watching his messages and doing a 180 in their opinions of him, many reconnecting with family members they had cut off over political disagreements. We saw the explosive growth of TPUSA chapters across high schools and college campuses. And most importantly, we saw renewed spiritual interest and what appeared to be genuine spiritual revival among the young.

They say tragedies come in threes. None of us saw Charlie’s gruesome and shockingly public death coming. Nor the unexpected sense of heartbroken determination that followed. And then a third wave that no one could have predicted. No, not the wave of vile celebrations of his death, the callous mockery and glorification of the violence that not only ended a man’s life, but also the hopes for his future accomplishments, not to mention the psychological impact of those who witnessed it, both in person and online. To say nothing of the devastation to his family and friends. Anyone who has given more than a few minutes of their time to politics in the last decade could have predicted that. Disgusting? Yes. Surprising? No.

No, the wave I refer to is the seismic wave of division that has deluged the conservative podcastsphere in the wake of Charlie’s death. The turf war over his legacy has spiraled into deep rifts in opinion, not just over “What would Charlie say” about this issue or that, but also over the party’s future direction and leadership. We have seen it destroy previously strong alliances among conservative commentators, leaving many of us on the sidelines, scratching our heads over who to believe or align with.

I do not want to weigh in on accusations regarding conspiracies and larger plots surrounding Charlie’s death. But I do want to offer my perspective on navigating the hellscape of online conservative discourse. Perhaps it will help you avoid being a casualty of this current conflict.

One could say this conflict isn’t a war of good guys and bad, but rather a trial, a courtroom drama in which both sides are making their case. And in this trial, we should focus not on the  motives of either party but on the evidence they present. While I think there are some very bad actors taking advantage of this dispute, I see this less as a criminal trial of good guys and bad and more of a civil trial with points to be made on both sides. As we, the jurors of conservative votes, weigh the arguments, I think it is critical to judge not by inferred motives but by facts.

It is easy to point the finger and say, “So and so is all about the clicks,” and on the other side, “So and so is being controlled by the Jews.” But these statements are much harder to back up with anything resembling evidence. And why should I care about the motives behind someone’s commentary if what they are saying is true and vice versa if what they are arguing for is false or outright evil?

Take Megyn Kelly. I have been a near-fanatic follower of Megyn’s for years. She has been a constant workday companion, keeping me up to date on all things political and newsy. I didn’t always agree with her stances, but that was one of the things I liked about listening to her, especially because she often featured guests who didn’t share her perspective, which I appreciated.

Many have criticized her silence regarding Candace Owens’ accusations, specifically those directed at Erika Kirk. But I believed her espoused devotion to Charlie and admiration of his widow to be sincere. I granted her the benefit of the doubt despite other podcasters that I follow calling her out. I even granted her the benefit of the doubt when her stance on Israel began to change. While I think there is an undeniable connection between criticism of the nation and hatred of Jews, I don’t believe that everyone who is guilty of the former is guilty of the latter. I remember well Megyn’s on-air response to 10/7 and the days that followed. She was clearly disgusted and grieved. I had no evidence of her antisemitism, and therefore I refrained from imputing motives for her change in position. I strongly disagree with her on the war in Iran and Israel’s influence over U.S. foreign policy, but I don’t believe it is worthy of personal criticism.

What is clear, however, is that many do feel this way. I have watched as a number of her regular guests have simply stopped appearing on her show. This has left her with guests less likely to challenge her opinions, significantly diminishing the level of discourse and providing balance to her perspective. While the quality of her show isn’t their responsibility to bear, this splintering of discourse into ever smaller silos reveals a significant weakness in independent media. In an environment lacking equal collaboration, the host is surrounded by employees who, at best, admire and trust their boss’s perspective and, at worst, merely seek to echo the opinions of the person on whom their jobs depend. And this is true of the audience as well. The host, depending on views, likes, and subscription rates, will be sorely tempted to bend, if not break, in the direction in which the wind is blowing.

As we approach this macabre anniversary, let us honor Charlie’s legacy by engaging in public discourse with both our minds and our hearts. Let us allow reason and evidence to dictate our opinions, but let our hearts guide our tone and grant the benefit of the doubt to the motives of those with whom we disagree. As another victim of political assassination, Abraham Lincoln, once charged the nation, let us move forward “with malice toward none, with charity to all.” In this way, we can defeat our enemies, both domestic and foreign, and most importantly, the enemy that lurks within each of our hearts, seeking to devour us all.

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Fixing Soccer: Three Rule Changes that Would Make a Good Game Great

By Jim Spiegel

The 2026 World Cup is now in the books, and it was, by most accounts, a great success. Fans were entertained, cultural distinctives were showcased, and we saw a lot of high-level soccer skills.

Unfortunately, as usual, the design flaws of soccer were also on full display, to the frustration of players and fans around the world. Numerous games finished with a score of 1-0 or 0-0. In several games, arguably, the inferior team won with a lucky goal. And some games were essentially decided by a penalty or questionable referee call.

I’ve followed the sport for over three decades, and my son Sam was captain of the Taylor University soccer team, which naturally intensified my interest in the game. While my love for the game has grown, so have my convictions regarding its basic design flaws which lead to these recurring problems. Most fundamentally, there is too little scoring. This, in turn, leads to further problems. The rare scoring leaves too many final outcomes to chance and creates too many situations where a game turns on a single bad referee call. It also reduces the likelihood that the superior team will actually win the game. How often in any other sport, if one team has totally dominated the other do you hear someone say, “I wonder who is going to win”? Yet that is not uncommon in soccer. In fact, that very thing happened in the World Cup final. Spain completely dominated Argentina the entire game but didn’t manage to score until extra time. A lucky bounce or bad call in Argentina’s favor, and the vastly superior team would have lost.

But so it goes with soccer. What can you do, right?

Well, actually, a lot. I have three common-sense suggestions for rule changes that would vastly improve the game.

Change the offside rule!

Problems with the rule: In addition to the fact that the offside rule unduly limits scoring, it is too difficult to call because of moving bodies, and missed calls are frustrating to fans as well as players. Furthermore, the rule frequently leads to agonizing disappointment for fans when they think their team has scored, only to be horribly deflated when they learn their team was offside by a few inches.

Solution: Either eliminate the offside rule altogether or take the hockey approach and make offside relative to a stationary line on the field. The latter would make it much easier to call and much more obvious to fans to judge for themselves even when they aren’t paying much attention to it (as is the case with hockey). And because players would have the benefit of a clear white line, offside infractions would be more rare anyway.

I would favor entirely eliminating the offside rule, because this would eliminate these calls altogether. Others have proposed this, and the objections are predictable and weak. One such objection is that without an offside rule teams would cherry pick easy goals by keeping a player near the opponents’ goal, waiting for a long outlet pass. Of course, this wouldn’t be a problem, since defenses would adjust accordingly.

Another objection is that without the offside rule there would be too much scoring. Not true. I’ve seen experimental games played without the offside rule, and while there is more scoring, the scores are more like 7-5 and 6-4, which is just what is needed to obviate the injustices mentioned earlier. This would also make the games more exciting—again, more like hockey, which is what the game badly needs.

Even if the scores were comparatively astronomical, like 15-12, would anyone really complain? I’ve never heard anyone complain that there is too much scoring in lacrosse or even basketball, when the scores often climb above 100 per team. No matter how much the scoring increased, it would be better than all of these 1-0 snoozers we see in professional soccer, not to mention the 0-0 games that end in shootouts, made all the worse by the fact that penalty kick shootouts basically come down to a matter of lucky guesswork rather than skill. Ugh. Speaking of which . . .

Nuance the penalty kick rule!

The problem with the rule: Not all violations in the box are equal! No matter where the defending team commits a foul in the box, the ball is always placed at the same place for the penalty kick: 12 yards from the goal. It doesn’t matter if the foul was on a breakaway three yards in front of an open goal or at the top corner of the box in a congested situation when the offensive player had no real chance to square up for a decent shot attempt. This is fundamentally unjust.

Solution: Nuance the ball placement for penalty kicks—say, 12, 16, or 20 yards out, depending on how good of an opportunity to score the offensive player was deprived of when fouled. Here soccer officials could learn something from football, which features a nuanced penalty system, where infractions cost a team 5, 10, or 15 yards, or even more in the case of defensive pass interference on a long pass. This is just common-sense nuancing of penalties. Come on, soccer lords!

Change the red card rule!

The problem: Removing a player for the rest of the game for a red card violation makes for horribly uneven penalizing, because such removal may force a team to play a man down anywhere from 89 minutes to a 1 minute, depending on when the infraction is committed. It doesn’t get any more uneven than this.

Solution: Force a team to play one (or two or three) player(s) down for just 5 or 10 minutes. Perhaps calibrate the number of players down according to the amount of time remaining in the game. Example: The team plays two players down for 20 minutes. If there aren’t 20 minutes left, then make it three players down for 10 minutes. And so on. But make it fair and consistent! And consider nuancing the red card calls themselves, such that there are two or three tiers of infraction severity, again, as in the case of football, hockey, and basketball. Each of these sports features nuanced levels of infraction severity with correspondingly severe penalties, including game suspensions (even up to multiple weeks long) for the guilty player. But in these sports a team isn’t forced to compete a man down for most of the game. Put an end to the draconian red card rule!

So there you go. Three simple rule changes that would dramatically improve the game of soccer. Spread the word, folks! If we work together, we can fix soccer. Let’s make this good game great!

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The Destiny of Everyone

By Jim Spiegel

British author and statesman Horace Walpole reputedly said that life is a comedy to those who think and a tragedy to those who feel. I have personally concluded that life is a tragicomedy—both at the individual level and human history is a whole.

“Under the sun,” as Qoheleth, the writer of Ecclesiastes, would say, you really can’t win. If you are fortunate enough to live a long life, then this guarantees you are also destined to experience the death of many close friends and loved ones and will be subjected to the slow deterioration of your body and mind before passing away.

I have reached my 60s, and have lost many friends and loved ones in a variety of distressing ways: accidents, diseases, murder, and suicide. The latter has been the saddest and most difficult of all to cope with, because it compounds the sorrow of loss with so many other negative emotions, often including anger and disappointment with the loved one who made such a devastating choice. It is also a stinging reminder of how hard this world is for everyone. Many of us have considered suicide even if we haven’t attempted it. Even the most happy and flourishing human life on this planet is marked with much sadness and difficulty. As Scripture says, “man is born to trouble as surely as sparks fly upward” (Job 5:7).

Of course, we have hope—Gospel hope. Christ has conquered death. And if we bind ourselves closely to him, we will ride his resurrection to our own resurrection glory. But that doesn’t remove all of the agony of this realm. It is all still a tragic comedy. That the God-man himself was a “man of sorrows” (Isa. 53:3) who suffered and died in the most ignominious and disgusting of ways is a stark reminder of this fact.

It appears that God has ordered this cursed realm in such a way as to force us to one of two extremes: utter despair or transcendent Hope. All of the suffering and death simply rules out naïve optimism. Yes, there are those who coldly say, “life is just hard; deal with it” and go about their business with few tears or ringing of hands in existential angst. But that attitude is itself a masked form of despair.

The choice of despair—and yes, for many it is a choice—is a surrender to tragic sadness, a decision to reject Hope and ultimate joy. Put in those terms, it might seem strange that so many people choose to surrender to despair. But it is because the alternative—the choice for Hope—is itself so hard to make, since it requires self-denial to the extreme—e.g., forgiving others unconditionally and abiding by the Golden Rule, etc. No one likes this. In fact, self-denial goes against fallen human nature; it is a wonder that any of us manage to pull it off. I suppose it is a sort of moral miracle, given the natural human tendency to pride and selfishness.

Whenever a loved one dies, and we gather together to quietly mourn. hug, cry, share stories, etc., we experience a communal helplessness that emphatically declares what a pathetic lot we really are. We are in desperate need of hope. That is a fundamental human fact. In the ordinary course of daily life, we tend to forget or ignore this. But death forces us to pay attention. As Qoheleth, says, “death is the destiny of everyone; the living should take it to heart” (Eccl. 7:2).

Those who do pay close attention, who dwell upon the reality of death more than most, are sometimes called morbid. And surely there is a potential vice here—that of dwelling on aspects of death for the sake of entertainment. That is clearly not the sort of attitude the Qoheleth is getting at. It is the inevitability of death and its final existential implications for us—that is what we should be taking to heart. You will die one day, perhaps very soon. Then your permanent reality begins. That certainly is something to take to heart and mindfully prepare for, however healthy or youthful you might happen to be right now.

So let us pay close attention, and I believe that if we do, and we embrace gospel hope, including all of its implications for self-denial, it is precisely then that death loses some of its sting and we can rejoice that life in this world is not a pure tragedy.

I conclude with these song lyrics that I wrote a few years ago while trying to heed Qoheleth’s counsel:

Dear Death, you dress for all occasions. / From the fog of war to sunny days with children playing. / Whether we’re doing our worst or best, / You’re always an unwelcomed guest / Who declares just how long we are staying.

Dear Death, somewhere in your dark eyes / Is the true confession of every human lie. / In search of greater powers, / We took what was not ours / And made a prison out of Paradise.

Dear Death, your presence feels more like a void, / Whenever we dwell upon what you’ve destroyed. / Every soothing friendship lost, / Every deep love double-crossed / Reminds us of the one thing we can’t avoid.

Dear Death, you cast a shadow cruel and long. / You’ve made a home in every place you don’t belong. / Even a young mother’s womb / You turn into a tomb /And somehow haunt the most joyous song.

Dear Death, I suppose it is not by chance / That even Jesus Christ asked you to dance. / There in that simple waltz / He made true what once was false / And welcomed us into a great romance.

Dear Death, is that your cold hand on my shoulder? / With each day it seems your overtures grow bolder. / But the music continues to play, / And it is a solace to say, / One day, yes, even you will not grow older.

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Making an Enemy of Satan

By Jim Spiegel

As Christians, we believe that Satan is not only real but the enemy of our souls. This is a clear teaching of Scripture. The Apostle Paul tells us to “put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes” (Eph. 6:11). And Peter says, “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour” (1 Pet. 5:8). So Satan and other demonic forces are real. They despise us. And they actively seek, and often succeed in causing, our harm.

Many times when going through a severe trial that obviously involves spiritual warfare, I have found myself thinking along these lines: “What did I ever do to these dark entities to warrant their hatred? I have never done anything to harm Satan and his imps. So why do they hate me so much?”

Perhaps you have had the same thought. If not, then at least you now have this thought.  And perhaps you understand my perplexity. But there is a good explanation, which can be summed up as follows.

    • Demonic beings are evil and hate what is good, especially He who is most holy—God.
    • To follow Jesus is to befriend him and join forces with the holy God.
    • To join forces with the holy is to make an enemy of Satan and work against him.
    • To work against Satan is to make him your enemy.
    • To make an enemy of Satan is to elicit attacks from his forces. Such attacks are often painful, frightening, and even devastating. But it’s part of the deal.

So, Christian, are you ready and willing to be an enemy of Satan? Well, actually, that’s a silly question. If you are truly following Christ, you already are.

This, of course, means that, as a Christian, you should expect to suffer. And this is why Jesus tells us we must “take up the cross” and follow him. His suffering, culminating in crucifixion, was a direct and devastating demonic attack. As his children, should we expect anything different? No, we should not. The Scriptures are clear about this. Peter says, “If you suffer for doing good and you endure it, this is commendable before God. To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.” (1 Pet. 2:20-21). And Paul writes, “To you it has been granted for Christ’s sake, not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for His sake.” (Phil. 1:29).

But what is the use of all of our suffering? Didn’t Jesus do all of that for us? Why must we suffer as well? In short, to share in his glory. Yes, it is a staggeringly wonderful thought. But, again, the biblical writers are clear on this. Paul says, “The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, heirs also, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him so that we may also be glorified with Him.” (Rom. 8:16-17). Elsewhere, he writes, “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection of the dead.” (Phil. 3:10-11). And Peter tells us to “rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.” (1 Pet. 4:13)

Not only this, but we are guaranteed to become better through our suffering. As James says, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,  whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2-4)

The true follower of Jesus must suffer. If you are a friend of Jesus you are an enemy of Satan and will be targeted by him. But this only binds you closer to Jesus and will make you better. So your suffering with him means you will share in his glory and be more like him. Again, it is part of the deal—a mind-blowingly wonderful deal.

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Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting

By Amy Spiegel

Years ago, my dad sent me S. M. Lockridge’s famous sermon, It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming. Over time, this has become shorthand between us. Facing hard times? “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming.” Frustrated with seemingly unanswered prayers? “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming.” It always brings a smile to our faces, but also encouragement and solace as we remember the deep well of comfort Lockridge’s words bring.

If you are unfamiliar with this sermon, it paints a picture of the devastating events of the Friday of Jesus’ betrayal, arrest and crucifixion. The disciples’ abandonment, the accusations of the crowd, the beatings of the Romans. In his beautiful preacher’s voice and cadence, Lockridge layers despair upon despair, until you can practically feel the weight of Jesus’ exhaustion and grief. But he ends each layer with the refrain “Sunday’s coming.”

This week, while discussing a difficult situation with my folks and sister, I threw out the well-worn line and then quipped, “What about poor Saturday? Nobody ever talks about poor Saturday.” I was thinking about “poor Saturday” during the Good Friday service I attended today. Friday gets to be good, Sunday gets TWO names (Palm and Resurrection), but poor Saturday. Nothing. The wallflower of Easter; always a bridesmaid, never the bride.

It seems very human to focus on the dramatic events of Friday and Sunday and not give Saturday another thought. We do this with the events of our own lives as well. We want to rush past the middle of the drama and skip to the part where everything works out, we get the job, the test comes back negative, etc.

But just for a moment, let’s think about that Saturday. Jesus was dead, so was Judas. The disciples were terrified and without a leader. Peter, I’m sure, was trying not to buckle under the grief and shame of his denials, the bitter tears still hanging in his beard. The women were preparing for Sunday. Not preparing to celebrate with plastic grass and Cadbury eggs. They were preparing to perform as ancient world morticians. To wash away the blood and sweat, cover the stink of death and decay with spices and ointments. Grief and confusion were hanging in the air.

Sure, there had been miraculous signs: unnatural darkness, an earthquake, split rocks, and the Temple’s torn curtain. These are hardly signs to lighten the mood. Tombs were opened and loved ones brought back to life, but this is cold comfort for those whose Hope has just died, naked and crying out to God. At one time, this Hope, this man, had seemed so favored. Heaven had opened, and the Spirit descended on Him while He was proclaimed to be God’s beloved Son.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes Fridays are easier to navigate than Saturdays. During Fridays, I am on high alert, rallying the troops for prayer, seeking wisdom in Scripture and looking for God’s direction. A season of crisis and drama can put me in “hero mode,” at least of a little while. But when the crisis is prolonged, or worse, when it feels like all hope is lost, the tomb of Hope is sealed and guarded, I have a tendency to retreat to habits of consultation, seeking solace in distraction and a good dose of carbohydrates.

But distraction doesn’t prepare me for Sunday. How can I worship if I’m not waiting for the dawn of God’s glory? The women honored to be the first witnesses of Jesus’ resurrection did so because they spent Saturday preparing. Let us do the same. Let us resist the despair of waiting. Let us refuse distraction and the bitterness of unfulfilled expectations. In the words of musical theologian Elton John, “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting.” So let us fight the good fight on Saturday. After all, Sunday’s coming.

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Time Waits for No One

By Jim Spiegel

I enjoy watching enhanced, colorized versions of very old videos like this and this and this.

They provide a healthy dose of perspective—a reminder that our time on this planet goes by very quickly. One day you are young and, before you know it, you are gone.

The flight of time and the human mutability it entails is a timeless theme in literature and music. I was first struck by this theme as a young teenager listening to the Rolling Stones song “Time Waits for No One.” While not renowned for tackling serious themes in their songs, much less in a profoundly poetic way, this one really got my attention:

Star-crossed in pleasure
The stream flows on by.
Yes, as we’re sated in leisure
We watch it fly.

Time waits for no one, and it won’t wait for me.

Time can tear down a building
Or destroy a woman’s face.
Hours are like diamonds.
Don’t let them waste.

Time waits for no one
No favors has he.
Time waits for no one
And it won’t wait for me.

Men, they build towers to their passing
Yes, to their fame everlasting.
Here he comes chopping and reaping.
Hear him laugh at their cheating.

And time waits for no man
And it won’t wait for me.
Yes, time waits for no one
And it won’t wait for me.

Drink in your summer.
Gather your corn.
The dreams of the night time
Will vanish by dawn.

But time waits for no one,
And it won’t wait for me.

This song’s message grows only more powerful as the years roll on. For the two young men who composed it, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, are now in their mid-80s.

A much older and far more influential song conveys the same message in the form of a prayer:

Show me, Lord, my life’s end
and the number of my days;
let me know how fleeting my life is.

You have made my days a mere handbreadth;
the span of my years is as nothing before you.
Everyone is but a breath,
even those who seem secure.

This song, now known as Psalm 39, was written 3000 years ago by David, King of Israel. He, too, was once young and seemingly invincible, but time didn’t wait for him either.

Nor will it wait for us. The lesson? David’s son, Solomon, summed it up well when he said,

Death is the destiny of everyone;
the living should take this to heart. (Eccl. 7:2)

That same writer, Qoheleth, concluded that book by declaring,

Now all has been heard;
here is the conclusion of the matter:
Fear God and keep his commandments,
for this is the duty of all mankind.
For God will bring every deed into judgment,
including every hidden thing,
whether it is good or evil. (Eccl. 12:13-14)

Although our lives fly by, the way we live while we are here does have eternal ramifications. If ever there was incentive to take seriously one’s pursuit of the Good, this is it.

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E Pluribus Unum

By Amy Spiegel

E Pluribus Unum. Out of many, one. In a time when our national motto seems in danger of splintering, I am grappling with what it means to be one out of the many, how to maintain the strength of one’s convictions while seeking some sort of unity with those whose convictions are pulling them in the opposite direction. How do we all pull together for a secure and peaceful country that will last for future generations when, at the moment, we seem to be using our oars to bash one another over the head rather than as a means of propelling us forward?

In his recent interview with Joe Rogan, Secretary Robert Kennedy spoke of his surprise discovery that, to paraphrase, all Republicans weren’t greedy Bond villains, rubbing their hands together and only looking to line their pockets and oppress the poor. Despite being the descendant of Democrat royalty, he has found that they share many common aims. I’m sure that if you asked many Republicans, they would share equally hyper-stereotypical impressions of their impression of those on the left.

So I thought it might be a helpful exercise for me, and hopefully for you, to consider the values behind some of the most hotly contested issues of our day and see if, despite dramatically differing conclusions, there are shared principles somewhere in the middle. By doing so, I don’t seek to convince anyone of my conclusions but first to convince myself that my stances are a result of considered examination rather than knee-jerk party line adherences and, secondly, to show those who disagree with me that, despite our disagreement, we share at least some common goals or assumptions. Let us do battle in the arena of ideas rather than attempt to assassinate one another’s character and motives.

Misogyny is an evil reality and should be weeded out. I would define misogyny simply as a degrading attitude towards women as inferior, deserving of objectification and disdain. Surely this is something we can all agree is wrong. How can we be “unum” if we aren’t moral equals? While I am sure most can agree on the definition, the diagnosis and cure are where we differ. I see the masculinization of women in film and popular culture (the omni-competent female action hero who defies biology by besting men in physical as well as mental feats while maintaining a flat, near emotionless cool) as grossly misogynistic. I also believe the movement to include biological men in women’s sports and spaces to be a similar victimization based on sex. You can disagree, but hopefully you can see that a defense of this position doesn’t have to be rooted in hatred; it can be just the opposite—a deep respect and love for women who possess unique and distinct qualities that make them, yes, strong and capable in many ways, but also vulnerable and in need of protection in others.

Speaking of those we seek to protect, I think we can all agree that it is the duty of the strong to protect the weak and defenseless. As a conservative and a Christian, this principle is based on both the biblical mandate to protect widows and orphans and the theological principle that human beings are created in the image of God. It leads me to be pro-life, valuing the unborn as image bearers and seeking to protect them in their helplessness. It is also the basis of my stance on illegal immigration which victimizes so many: the working class who are forced to compete for jobs with those willing to accept lower wages, victims of the crimes committed by those in our country illegally, as well as the illegal immigrants themselves, especially women and children, who suffer horrific brutality on their journey northward, are often subject to trafficking and at a minimum find themselves living in the shadows of our society due to their legal standing, or lack thereof. You may share this desire to protect and serve these groups while landing at dramatically differing viewpoints, but let us together lay down the weapons of slander and gross misrepresentation to reason. Let us turn our ire to those who seek to exploit rather than on those who seek to defend.

Democracy is worth defending. What a noble and, frankly, obvious statement for all patriots to affirm. And yet I have heard this slogan pointedly leveled at the occupants of both sides of the aisle by those who believe themselves to be Lady Liberty’s knight in shining armor. For me, this is the basis of my position on voter ID laws, honoring our laws and those who enforce them, as well as the lawful exercise of our Constitutionally guaranteed freedoms, such as freedom of speech and religion. One’s exercise of these rights must be honored, while acknowledging and respecting the rights of others to do the same.

I would love to hear your honest thoughts on these principles. I know this has been a useful experiment for me, and I hope it has been for you as well. While writing, I have attempted to put myself in the shoes of those with whom I strongly disagree and, rather than dismiss their solutions, look at the foundation on which they are built. Perhaps by doing so, we can all agree to get in the same canoe, put our oars in the water and row together. If done correctly, we can course correct for one another, allowing neither to go too far in one direction or another. Many working to create and preserve the one. God bless you, and God bless the United States of America.

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Intellectual Molting: Shedding the Dead Theological Skin of Poor Concepts of God

By Jim Spiegel

I know a young man who is struggling with his faith. Not in the sense that he’s questioning the reality of God. Rather, he seems to be calling into question the adequacy of his particular concept of God, which is proving to be too small as his educational journey is stretching his mind. This is a common experience for young Christian college students, whose intellectual discoveries often apply pressure on the concept of God with which they have operated since childhood. I call it intellectual molting—the shedding of rigid or narrow rational categories when one’s intellect outgrows them in the educational process.

For those who experience this in an unhealthy academic context (e.g., one that is primarily agnostic, atheistic, rigidly fundamentalist, or otherwise hostile to nuanced religious commitment), the turn to religious skepticism or cynicism is a common result. In such cases, it is not only the “old skin” of a small God concept that is thrown off. Belief in God itself may be tossed away. But in a community context that is friendly to faith-infused academic inquiry, one’s God concept is more likely to be adjusted “upward.” The dry, grey, dead skin of outworn theological categories is displaced by the emergence of rich, healthy colors of more robust, biblically orthodox categories.

Former President of Taylor University, Jay Kesler, used to say that when a student told him “I no longer believe in God,” he would reply, “Well, tell me what kind of ‘God’ you no longer believe in, and maybe I don’t believe in him either.” This reply is not only disarming. It is also true.

There are many falsely rigid or distorting God concepts that severely limit or even ultimately kill faith. To the extent one nurses these concepts, one’s faith will either die or remain stunted. A vibrant, biblical faith will survive only to the extent that one’s concept of God expands to properly biblical proportions.

The need for theological category molting is often manifest in the sorts of questions one asks, such as:

    • “Why does God exist?”
    • “What if God stops existing?”
    • “Does God know what is happening to me?”
    • “What if he is unable to fix my situation?”
    • “What if God decides not to forgive us?”

Such are the sorts of questions I have been asked over the years that are indicative of a small concept of God

The first two questions reveals a failure to understand that God is self-existent. (See Exod. 3:14; Ps. 90:2; John 5:26.) He is not the sort of being that depends on other things to exist. Any given tree, rock, human, planet, or quasar is contingent and may or may not have existed. In fact, at one time in the distant past (~14.2 billion years ago) the entire cosmos did not exist. Then it came into existence. But God never came into existence. Not only has he always existed, his existence is metaphysically necessary. He could never not have existed. In this way, God is fundamentally different than anything in the physical world. He is not just another being. God is unique in his self-existence. He is, in the most absolute metaphysical sense, one of a kind.

The third question reveals a failure to grasp divine omniscience: God knows all things—past, present, and future. (See Ps. 139:1-6; 1 John 3:20; Isa. 46:9-10.) This means God transcends time and space. The omniscient divine mind is constantly aware of everything all at once. If this is mind-boggling, it should be. Even if we only grant that God pays attention to every human prayer, we land in something inconceivable. It is estimated that there are about 6.5 billion prayers offered every day by human beings on this planet. If the average length of those prayers is about ten seconds, then (assuming my math is correct) at any given moment God is listening to about 752,000 prayers. Have you ever tried paying attention to just two people talking at once? It is overwhelming. What kind of mind can pay careful attention to hundreds of thousands of people simultaneously?! And given the size of the cosmos, this is just the beginning of divine omniscience.

The fourth question reveals a failure to understand that God is infinite in power. That is, God is omnipotent. (See Jer. 32:17; Ps. 115:3; Matt. 19:26; Luke 1:37.) He not only can do all things (that are logically possible), he actually experiences no resistance in achieving his ends. That is, although fallen beings often strive to resist God, since his power is absolute, there is no exhaustion or difficulty of divine effort in thwarting them. Infinite power can never be the least bit diminished.

Finally, the fifth question, about God changing his mind, reveals a failure to understand divine immutability. (See Num. 23:19; Mal. 3:6; Heb. 13:8; James 1:17.) The essence of God does not and cannot change. And this includes his moral character, which is what is at stake when it comes to God keeping his promises, whether for forgiveness of sin or anything else. Divine immutability is guaranteed by the perfection of God. If God’s character changed, such change would be for the better or worse. If for the better, then God was imperfect to begin with, which is absurd. If for the worse, then God would have become imperfect, which again is absurd. So God must be eternally, immutably perfect, which means his promises will all be fulfilled and his resolve to forgive all of his children who submit to him in obedient faith will never be revoked.

These are the divine attributes that many young (and some older) Christians fail to properly understand. This is sad, because lacking this robust, biblically orthodox concept of God will, one way or another, be manifested in doubts, anxieties, or difficulties in trusting the promises of God. So if you have chronic struggles in these ways, it is probably a good idea to do an inventory of your views on the divine attributes. Is your God concept a healthy one? If not, then perhaps some intellectual molting is in order.

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Waking Up

By Amy Spiegel

Years ago, as a young mom and aspiring author, Jen Hatmaker was all that I wanted to be. I saw myself in her frazzled authenticity, her flair for the dramatic, her diving in headfirst approach to life and faith. I was disarmed by her self-deprecating humor, which was such a breath of fresh air in the evangelical world of stay-at-home moms. This was the age of the mommy-blog, and Hatmaker struck a chord with those of us “in the trenches”, trying our best to live up to the impossibly high standards set for us, sometimes by others, but often by ourselves. With her big earrings and even bigger smile and personality, Jen felt like an example to aspire to and admire, as well as a reason to be real about one’s own failures and flaws.

I will confess, though, that while I often scrolled through her Insta and laughed and let out a sigh of relief that I wasn’t the only one whose kids were eating in front of the TV and calling it a picnic, relief and relatability weren’t the only feelings she inspired. I was sometimes overcome by feelings of envy and inferiority. It wasn’t just her life I coveted; we shared a publisher, and there were times when her level of success and reach felt so tantalizingly close, like staring over at the cool kid table, longing for someone to make eye contact and ask me to join them.

It wasn’t long into the promotion of my book that I realized the game of self-branding was not for me. I must admit, with regret and shame, that the temptation to view my family and life as a source of content rather than my primary mission in life was real. It is likely God’s grace that He didn’t allow my book sales to skyrocket or my speaking career to extend beyond the local churches of dear friends. At the time, Jen Hatmaker was a mirror into which I looked and saw my own heart’s darkness, a desire to measure myself not by how well I was completing the mission to which I had been called, but against the measure of how well someone else was completing theirs. I set aside my dreams of growing my brand as an author and sought to grow in my knowledge of the Author of my faith.

Fast-forward nearly a decade and a half to the present. I have seen Jen Hatmaker pop up on my radar now and then over the years: on HGTV, having her house renovated, coming out as gay-affirming in 2016, and the sad announcement of her divorce in 2020. By that time, my attention had shifted away from the world of women influencers. I was off social media for the most part and navigating a chaotic time in our own lives.

When, however, I saw Hatmaker had written a memoir, I was curious. Our life Venn diagrams still have a lot of overlap; we are both in our early fifties, learning to straddle the divide of parenting adults and younger kids simultaneously; we have both spoken out on political and cultural issues, though from different sides of the aisle; we both have some harsh critiques regarding the church in America.

Reading Awake, I didn’t walk away with any deep insights, theological or otherwise. I felt a deep compassion for Jen and her children, given the heartache they have experienced and had to navigate in the fishbowl of public interest and attention, though one does need to acknowledge that, for Jen’s part, this was attention she had fostered and benefited from for years. But that doesn’t make her pain less real, just perhaps more avoidable.

I have no desire to personally tear down Jen Hatmaker. And undertaking a deconstruction of her premises feels daunting given the structure, or lack thereof, of Awake. To summarize is impossible, but it does appear to me that Hatmaker has made the fatal mistake of exchanging one form of legalism for another. She notes many examples from her early life growing up and later in ministry of others casting pharisaical judgment on her, while at the same time she casts a plank-filled eye of judgment at those who do not share her political or theological perspectives. While I can certainly sympathize with the pain caused by the former, I believe it to be no more destructive than the latter. She has cast aside the prudes of the evangelical world only to cast her lot in with the puritanical progressives.

My greatest takeaway from the book was a sense of deep sadness that of all of the things Hatmaker has lost, her reliance on the Bible as a firm foundation on which to build (and rebuild) is by far the most tragic. On a much smaller scale, I understand what it is to be uprooted, to lose the part of one’s identity tied to community and public perception. I know the pain and questions that come from life-imploding, faith-threatening events. But I also know the sweet peace that comes after the storm if you anchor in the harbor of God’s trustworthiness.

I have never known the horror of marital betrayal Hatmaker experienced, awakening to the sound of her husband speaking words of love and devotion to another woman. My hope and prayer for her is that one day she will hear our Father’s voice, reminding her of His love and devotion. Then and only then will she be truly awake.

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The Best and Worst of 2025

By Jim Spiegel

It has been another exciting year for the Spiegel family—more transitions and making new friends. In August Jim commenced his work as Executive Director of the Center for Faith & Life at Geneva College in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania. He has rolled on to the Board of the Kalos Center and now hosts the Kalos Center Podcast on a part-time basis. Amy continued her work in Institutional Advancement at Hillsdale College but now working remotely in a role well-suited to her interests and skills. Maggie is a sophomore majoring in English at Wayne State University. Sam graduated from Taylor University last January. He is currently working for State Farm Insurance in Detroit and planning to attend graduate school next Fall. Bailey has been rooming with Sam in Detroit while working at Mad Nice Italian Restaurant, building on his art portfolio, and applying to MFA programs. And Andrew is a freshman at Hillsdale College, where he will likely major in Philosophy and Religion. We are excited about all of these developments, as our kids continue to grow into interesting and ambitious adults. Our family conversations about art, culture, philosophy, theology, and politics are more stimulating and enriching than ever. As usual, we are closing out the year with summary remarks about good and bad stuff related to film, music, books, sports, food, and family.

Film Experiences 

Jim: I’ll go from bad to best here, starting with Killers of the Flower Moon (2023) a somniferous waste of three hours, despite Leonardo DiCaprio’s lead role. Much better was Smile 2 (2024), which Maggie convinced me to see. I’m not into horror and generally avoid the genre, though my cousin Scott Spiegel (who, sadly, died this past year) made a Hollywood career out of directing horror films. My daughter seems to be the one in our family who inherited Scott’s love of horror. Anyway, Smile 2 scared me spitless. And Naomi Scott’s lead performance as a demonically tortured pop star was brilliant. I was enthralled by Anatomy of a Fall (2023), a carefully crafted French legal drama about the mysterious death of a husband and father. The acting was tremendous, and the film’s gradual plot revelations land hard. The film is also instructive regarding French criminal court procedure, which is fascinating. I’ve enjoyed the first season of Pluribus, the latest series from the mind of Vince Gilligan, the creator of Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul. The thought-provoking science fiction premise of Pluribus alone makes it worth watching. My favorite film this year was Small Things Like These (2024), an historical drama set in Ireland in the 1980s. It is an exquisitely directed and acted film that reaches into your soul.

Amy: I find myself at a distinct disadvantage because Jim has already named several of my favorites from this year, Small Things Like These being at the top of the list by a mile. I also enjoyed Everything Everywhere All at Once, which was flawed, but creative and well-acted. I am happy to report that Wake Up Dead Man, the third in the Knives Out series, was a vast improvement over the second, which is like saying eating ice cream is a vast improvement over a root canal. We’ve been enjoying Ken Burns’ American Revolution series on PBS, though it has taken us twice as long to watch because I keep insisting that we pause, fact-check and discuss every five minutes. Another highlight on the doc scene was I Like Me, a documentary about the life and work of John Candy. Named for a line from one of our family’s holiday favorites (Planes, Trains and Automobiles), it was exactly like so many of his great performances: funny, tragic, and touchingly human. The highlight of my film-viewing this year was actually at the movie theater, a rare occurrence these days. Andrew and I saw an unintentional double-feature spanning two nights when Mission Impossible: Final Reckoning self-destructed with just ten minutes to go and we had to come back the next night. We came early and amused ourselves by “guessing” upcoming plot twists. While not the best movie in the series, the stunts are out of this world and Tom Cruise’s dedication to his craft is commendable.

Food and Music

Amy’s Best Food Experiences of the Year: This year saw a lot of meals with friends and family which become more meaningful to me as they become less frequent. My mom, Sam and I had the pleasure of eating at Bailey’s restaurant with him as our server, which was very fun. I also got the chance to eat at Pierpont’s at Union Station in Kansas City with work colleagues. The excellence of the food was only surpassed by the exceptional service. But my highlight would be the discovery of The Deck Down Under, a hole-in-the-wall restaurant located a few miles from our home in Jonesville where we shared a couple of meals first with the boys just prior to their moving to Detroit and then with Andrew and his girlfriend to celebrate his high school graduation. Again, great food and service (truffle fries so good you want to duck under the table and lick the plate), but it was the conversation and laughter I will treasure most. 

Jim’s Best Musical Experiences of the Year: I didn’t get out to see any concerts this year, but I did discover a lot of exciting new artists (well, new to me anyway), including Annika Kilkenny, Maya Hawke, Rob J Madin, Ray Lamontagne, Great Grandpa, Lily Allen, Birdtalker, Hurray for the Riff Raff and, my favorite: Geese. Their album 3D Country caught my attention at the suggestion of my son, Sam. Then came their current album, Getting Killed. Unlike their previous stuff, the band’s approach on this album feels entirely improvisational. Think Lift to Experience meets Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks with a dash of The Grateful Dead. Front man and lyricist Cameron Winter is a unique, compelling persona, confirmed by the fact that he was recently parodied on SNL. Sam and Bailey saw Geese live in Detroit a few months ago. And Sam was able to get a pic with the band after the concert, as you can see here.

Sports

Jim’s Favorite Sports Moments of the Year: 2025 was another year of “almosts” for my teams. While that meant disappointment for all of them in the end, the playoff run by the Indiana Pacers was a thrilling surprise. Since at the time of writing this the Indiana Hoosiers are #1 in the country and have a good shot at winning the college football national championship, I’ll call that my favorite sports “moment” of the year. Here’s to hoping that they don’t become my most disappointing sports memory of 2026! 

Amy’s Favorite Sports Moments of the Year: Over Thanksgiving, we had the joy of hosting my folks from Tennessee and the misery of watching every one of our teams lose. I’m not sure it counts as a sporting event, but cheering Sam and Andrew on during their first marathon this summer was a treat and seemed a rare instance in which the fans really do make a difference. Speaking of fandom, this year has seen a significant development for me as a sports fan. After years of existing in an NFL allegiance limbo, I have decided to become a Lions fan. I abandoned the Colts after a half-hearted effort to transfer my support from Peyton to Andrew Luck, only to be followed by a brief and lackluster commitment to the Carolina Panthers. Mainly, I want to have someone I can cheer on with Jim, and so the Lions it is.

Jim’s Most Disappointing Sports Moments of the Year: Amy’s notion that one can simply “decide” to become a fan of a team is interesting and worthy of analysis. But moving on . . .  My Detroit Lions getting bounced by the Washington Commanders in the first round of the NFL playoffs last January was probably the hardest loss of the year for me. The Indiana Pacers’ loss in game 7 of the NBA finals was disappointing, too, but like most people, I expected they’d lose, since Oklahoma City was so heavily favored and, okay, the better team. Still, it hurts to be that close and fall short.

Amy’s Most Painful Sports Moment of the Year: Hands down, it was my attendance of Andrew’s track meets this year. Who came up with this format?? One is expected to attend the entire 12-million-year-long meet, conveniently located seven hours from your house and bonus points for cold and rain while your child competes for approximately the wink of an eye, and the snacks are terrible. If any of my eventual grandchildren decide to run track, they will find me waiting in the car with an encouraging hug and a cup of hot chocolate.

Good Reads

Jim: Because of my work hosting the Kalos Center Podcast, I read more widely than usual this year. Oh, so many good books. I loved Anne Hendershott’s The Politics of Envy, which discusses the vice of envy as it manifests in many cultural contexts, from the academy to politics to social media. Robert Woodson’s Woodson Principles is an inspiring and practical summary of his proven approach to urban renewal, and Don Eberly and Ryan Streeter’s The Soul of Civil Society is a superb complement to this, providing many wise insights about civic engagement and democratic culture. I was deeply edified by John Perkins’ One Blood, perhaps the most biblically faithful work I’ve read dealing with race relations. And by “race”—following Perkins—I mean the human race). On the theological front, Michael Kruger’s Canon Revisited on the origin of the New Testament canon is the best volume I’ve read on the fascinating and sometimes bewildering topic of biblical canonicity. Dan Doriani’s Work: Its Purpose, Dignity, and Transformation is a superb introduction to a biblical theology of work. And I loved D. A. Carson’s Exegetical Fallacies, a book which I had never read in its entirety. Now I understand why so many scholars call this a “must read” for anyone interested in—and especially anyone who professionally does—biblical exegesis. My only real disappointment of the year was Christopher Watkin’s Biblical Critical Theory. While this book made good fodder for group discussion with the group of Columbus pastors I led as part of the Center for Christian Virtue’s Minnery Fellowship, I found many aspects of Watkin’s methodology to be disappointing.

Amy: Like Jim, I read a wide range of books this year. One of these was Birding to Change the World by Trish O’Kane. I couldn’t agree with this woman’s politics less, but I couldn’t stop reading the book and pondered it for weeks afterwards. My family is likely to write her hate mail for my new obsession with a bird-watching app I can’t get enough of. I loved The Hallmarked Man by Robert Galbraith, aka J.K. Rowling. She’s a literary genius who creates characters I can’t get enough of. What else can I say? Erik Larson’s The Splendid and the Vile is a very interesting look at Churchill leading up to and during the Battle of Britain. Allie Beth Stuckey’s Toxic Empathy is a succinct but powerful examination of virtue gone wrong. Lee Strobel’s Seeing the Supernatural is sobering and encouraging. And Harriet Beecher Stowe’s classic Uncle Tom’s Cabin and Garrett M. Graff’s The Only Plane in the Sky are my current reads in progress. Both of these are gripping portrayals of some of our country’s darkest days and the courageous efforts of many who lived through them.

Best 2025 Family Memories

Jim: Our annual Bell (Amy’s side of the family) summer reunion was a lot of fun again, this time spent at Donkey Town, an aptly named rental property in southern Indiana. Having the whole family together for Thanksgiving at our new home in Beaver Falls was a definite highlight, especially given the fact that our latest batch of eight Goldendoodle puppies were at peak cuteness and rambunctiousness at the time. By mid-December we delivered seven of them to their thrilled new owners, and we kept one—Pippet, named for the ill-fated dog in the film Jaws. Hopefully, our pup won’t meet such a gruesome end. We’ll be careful to avoid taking her to Amity Island during the summer months.

Amy: Empty-nesting with Jim as we settle into our new home in Pennsylvania has been a blast. While I was very sad to say good-bye to Michigan and a bit daunted by the prospect of starting over again, being reunited after a year of Jim splitting each week between his job in Ohio and our house in Michigan has been nothing but wonderful. Adjusting to the kids being gone has been hard, but I love seeing each of them forging their own paths in new settings and supporting them as adults rather than shepherding them as children. I also had the terrifyingly profound experience of delivering eight puppies by myself when our beloved Goldendoodle decided to give birth while Jim was out of town. And yes, Donkey Town was everything the name says and more.

New Year’s Resolutions

Amy: The upheaval of the last five years has served as an excuse for making less than stellar choices in the area of nutrition and exercise for me. Hoping to turn that around this year along with reading more and scrolling less.

Jim: I have committed to fasting (as a spiritual discipline) more consistently in 2026. It is amazing how much moral-spiritual power there is in this practice—sharpening the mind and improving self-control, which of course is a key fruit of the Spirit.

Happy 2026 everyone!