Bernard Nathanson died nearly 15 years ago. His story matters now more than ever. Not because he was famous, though he was. Not because he was influential, though few Americans shaped the culture more profoundly. His story matters because it proves that no one is beyond redemption — and that truth has a way of breaking through, no matter how determined we are to suppress it.Nathanson was born in New York to Jewish parents. He became an obstetrician and gynecologist like his father. But unlike his father, he devoted his career to ending pregnancies rather than delivering babies. At one point, he directed the Center for Reproductive and Sexual Health, then the largest abortion facility in the world. He later claimed responsibility for more than 75,000 abortions. Among them was his own child.Our age desperately needs this kind of conversion — the courage to admit complicity and the humility to seek forgiveness.He wasn’t merely performing abortions. In many ways, he helped build the movement that made them legal. Nathanson was among the central activists whose efforts culminated in Roe v. Wade. Today, nearly 30% of American pregnancies are unintended; about 40% of those end in abortion — roughly 1,500 to 2,500 each day, between 550,000 and 910,000 annually. Those numbers cast a long shadow over Nathanson’s legacy.By his own account, he was an atheist. He married four times. He lived without God and, for a time, without guilt.Then came the ultrasound.Signs of lifeIn the 1970s, advances in medical imaging made it possible to view the womb in real time. For the first time, doctors could watch a living fetus during an abortion procedure. Nathanson asked a colleague who performed 15 to 20 abortions daily to record one on ultrasound. What they saw unsettled him permanently.“Ultrasound opened up a new world,” Nathanson later wrote. “For the first time I could really see the human fetus, measure it, observe it, watch it, and indeed bond with it and love it.”This was his first conversion — not religious, but moral. Fetal development was no longer a medical abstraction. It was human life unfolding along a continuous path. To interrupt that life became, in his words, intolerable.He went farther. He called abortion a crime. He did not exempt himself. He knew he had not been a bystander but a central participant. The reckoning was unavoidable.No looking awayIn 1984, he directed "The Silent Scream," a film featuring ultrasound footage of an abortion in progress. It removed abstraction. What had been hidden behind euphemism became visible. The film galvanized pro-life movements worldwide because it forced viewers to see what had long been described away.Nathanson became the abortion movement’s most formidable opponent precisely because he had once been its architect. He understood its language and its strategy. He knew how clinical terms soften moral reality. As he later admitted, statistics had been inflated and rhetoric sharpened to sway public opinion. He had helped construct the narrative.Yet moral clarity did not bring him peace. The weight of 75,000 deaths — including his own child’s — pressed on his conscience. Ethical reversal is not the same as absolution.In search of mercyThrough conversations with Father John McCloskey, an Opus Dei priest, Nathanson began his second conversion. This one was spiritual. In December 1996, Cardinal John O’Connor baptized him in a private Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. He received confirmation and first communion that same day.When asked why he chose Catholicism, his answer was simple: “No religion matches the special role for forgiveness that is afforded by the Catholic Church.”That sentence reveals what ideology never could: Guilt demands more than argument. It demands mercy.Father Gerald Murray, who preached at Nathanson’s funeral, compared him to Whittaker Chambers, the former Soviet spy who renounced communism and testified against it at immense personal cost. The comparison was deliberate. Both men had served destructive causes with conviction. Both knew their systems from the inside. And both chose to speak because silence was no longer possible.Neither escaped consequences. Yet each chose truth over self-preservation.Hard truthSome readers will struggle to forgive what Nathanson did. The harm was real. It cannot be undone. But what he chose once he could no longer deny the truth also matters. The screams he confronted were silent, visible only through ultrasound. Once seen, they could not be unseen.Our age desperately needs this kind of conversion — the courage to admit complicity and the humility to seek forgiveness. Wrongdoing is softened by clinical language. Responsibility is buried beneath justification. Technology makes victims invisible.Nathanson’s life reminds us that seeing clearly carries a cost — but refusing to see carries a greater one.He spent half his life destroying life and the other half defending it. Many spend their entire lives destroying life and never confront it.

In late January this year, CEO of Octane AI Matt Schlicht launched a new social media platform called Moltbook. It’s just like any other social network in that users can post, discuss, comment on, or upvote content.The one catch?It’s off-limits for human beings. Moltbook is a platform built exclusively for autonomous AI agents.Reactions to Moltbook have been polarizing, with some fearing it’s proof AI is becoming too powerful and others dismissing it as overhyped AI slop.To get some insight on the AI-dominated social media platform that’s taking the internet by storm, Glenn Beck invited Harlan Stewart of the Machine Intelligence Research Institute to “The Glenn Beck Program” to share his thoughts. One of the subjects these AI bots have been discussing on Moltbook is “consciousness” — specifically whether or not they have it.“If we're creating something that can have consciousness, then we would become slave owners, would we not?” asks Glenn.“I think it's really easy to anthropomorphize these things because they sort of train them to have these charming personalities that are kind of humanlike, but under the hood, you know, these things are just a big pile of math and numbers,” says Stewart.“But doesn't that sound like a human? You open up my head. I'm a big mass of goo,” Glenn counters.“I think that’s a good point. I mean neuroscience is like famously a science that we still have a lot of confusion about ... but you know, I think for understanding humans, we at least have the advantage of being a human,” Stewart says.With AI, however, “we're sort of growing these digital minds now, and maybe they're humanlike, but it could be much more like introducing an alien species to Earth,” he adds.“I just can't believe how stupid we are in some ways,” Glenn laughs. “I mean, let's introduce an alien species to Earth. OK, is it friendly? We have no idea. ... We know that AI will eventually be smarter than us. We are just playing with fire that we don't understand.”While Glenn thinks AI is the “greatest invention and tool that man has ever invented,” he’s deeply concerned that in the end, it will make tools of us.However, what we’re seeing on Moltbook — including some AI “schemes” that are going viral and fueling hysteria — is likely not proof of consciousness, at least not yet. Hauntingly, the sign that AI has reached genuine consciousness, Glenn and Stewart speculate, is ironically no sign at all. They believe that if a takeover plot ever begins to develop, it will likely be in nonhuman languages to evade counterattacks.“I don't believe that they would be scheming in our language with each other where we could see it. I mean, I think if it starts to have these kinds of feelings, you're not going to know until all of a sudden it's in charge,” Glenn theorizes.Stewart agrees — “Ultimately, the real danger that we have to look out for is from AI agents that are powerful enough that they can pull off schemes that they actually succeed at, and part of succeeding at them would probably mean that we don't even get a chance to observe the behavior and discuss it like we're doing now.”To hear more of Glenn and Stewart’s chilling conversation, watch the video above.Want more from Glenn Beck?To enjoy more of Glenn’s masterful storytelling, thought-provoking analysis, and uncanny ability to make sense of the chaos, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution, and live the American dream.

If you’re of a certain age, you probably remember Captain and Tennille — a married duo with a ridiculously catchy hit that topped the charts and won a Grammy. "Love Will Keep Us Together" made forever feel effortless. For the younger crowd, click the link for a glimpse of how music used to sound — and how optimism used to look.They don’t make songs like that anymore.There is a forever love — and it really does hold us together. And it’s summed up in three simple words.And as it turns out, they don’t make love like that either. Love didn’t actually keep Captain and Tennille together. They divorced in 2014 after almost four decades, reminding us that the world’s idea of lasting love is fragile, conditional, and almost always temporary.So ... happy Valentine’s?Well, scripture offers something entirely different. There is a forever love — and it really does hold us together. And it’s summed up in three simple words:Love one another.That’s it. It sounds easy. But it isn’t — because we are saints who still sin. And when we turn inward, even subtly, we fail to love one another the way Christ commands. So let’s unpack what He actually meant.Love your neighbor vs. love one anotherSo how does “love one another” differ from “love your neighbor”?We tend to think of a neighbor as someone who lives nearby. But Jesus was asked that exact question and answered it with the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37). From His explanation, we learn that a neighbor is anyone in need who crosses our path. Loving our neighbor, then, is about how we treat those who are not yet part of God’s family.But “one another” means something more specific.Throughout the New Testament, “one another” almost always refers to fellow believers — our brothers and sisters in Christ. Practically speaking, one another is your church family. Which is one of many reasons you need a church family.What 'love one another' actually looks likeThe New Testament gives us roughly 50 instructions for how we are to treat one another — commands that spell out what love looks like in real life. Someone helpfully compiled them all in one place, and it’s worth reading through carefully.Not surprisingly, the most frequently repeated command in that list is this one: love one another.And when we wonder how to do that — especially when some people are genuinely hard to love — the answer is found in the rest of the list. Things like:Serve one anotherForgive one anotherEncourage one anotherPray for one anotherThese aren’t abstract ideals. They’re concrete actions. And as we prayerfully consider them, the Holy Spirit may well bring specific people to mind.Or consider this, from Romans 12:“Let love be without hypocrisy — by abhorring what is evil, clinging to what is good, being devoted to one another in brotherly love, giving preference to one another in honor ... contributing to the needs of the saints, pursuing hospitality” (Romans 12:9-13).That’s a lot of practical instruction packed into a few verses. And hospitality, in particular, is an area where most of us fall woefully short.This kind of love doesn’t stay theoretical. It shows up in schedules, homes, meals, and patience.Why Jesus called this command 'new'In John 13:34, Jesus says something that can sound puzzling at first:“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another.”After all, the people of the Old Testament had always been called to love. The Law itself was built on loving God and loving others. So what was different?“... even as I have loved you.”That’s the new part.Jesus didn’t just tell the disciples what to do — He showed them how to do it. For three years, He walked with them, served them, corrected them, bore with them, and loved them patiently.And then — immediately after washing their feet, including Judas’ — He issued this new command, on the eve of His betrayal and death.Love like I do.The cost — and the witnessThis is a staggering standard. And we can only love this way to the extent that we understand how deeply we ourselves are loved.When we daily enter His presence, absorb His Word, and receive His love, something changes. Only then are we able to love one another in a way that looks unmistakably different to the world.Which is exactly the point.“By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35).Before the world sees our love for our neighbors, it must see our love for one another.The hard realityLet’s be honest: Some believers are hard to love. Annoying. Irritating. The kind of people you quietly hope won’t sit next to you.And sometimes, we are those people.None of us are easy to love all the time. So we depend on the Holy Spirit to produce the fruit that makes us both more loving and more lovable. As Hannah Williamson has observed, the exercise of working out how to love one another is a “gritty training ground for loving the wider world.”In other words, loving one another helps train us to love our neighbors. But first — the lost must witness our love for one another.So in obedience to our Lord, let’s draw closer to Him so we can fulfill this beautiful task He’s given us — to love one another better.A love that will, in fact, keep us all together.Saint Valentine would be proud.