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by John Solomon, Just The News: After President Biden pardoned his son because of “politicization” of the FBI, Kash Patel’s nomination may very well justify Team Trump’s approach to cleaning house at the revered agency that allowed “politics to usurp crime fighting,” says a former FBI Special Agent and Supervisor. As Democrats try to stymie […]

God’s purpose shines through the unexpected visit of the Magi.

There is no greater gift you can give someone this season than your spirit-filled, joy-filled, Jesus-filled presence.

My two earliest memories of my mother couldn’t be more different. The pleasant one is our evening routine: She’d pull me onto her lap to recite the Lord’s Prayer and sing “The Old Rugged Cross” until I fell asleep. The other is her sobbing in her bathroom, telling me how badly she wanted to die. This perplexing tension between Mom’s two sides carried on for 40 years or so until my mother went to be with the Lord earlier this year. Tortured Soul Mom’s childhood was marked by mingled joy and pain. Her parents’ divorce inflicted a wound she never recovered from. I remember when she shared about the time she sat on the sidewalk step outside her house from morning until evening. Her father had promised to pick her up and take her out for time together. He never came. Feelings of unworthiness and loneliness haunted her for the rest of her life. Growing up, my mother was an enjoyable, hospitable, and thoughtful woman. It was rare for our home not to have visitors. Many of my sister’s friends called her “Mama Kell” because she’d welcome them into our home and feed them. Some friends with bad home lives would take refuge at our house because of the peace they found there. She and my father were always present in my life. They never missed a basketball game I played in. If I listen hard enough, I can still hear Mom yelling, “Follow your shot!” Though Mom often smiled, everyone around her could feel her dark cloud of depression. Many of her days were so dark that staying in bed in the morning or drinking and watching TV late into the night were her only means of coping. She constantly tried to escape the demons of sadness that haunted her, even in her dreams. Mental health discussions weren’t as popular in my childhood as they are today, but the realities of mental health struggles were alive and well in our family for decades. I witnessed my parents constantly navigating a minefield of medicines and doctors. I remember a brief season when Mom was admitted to a mental health institution. I admired how hard she fought to make our lives as normal as possible. I loved her for that. Imperfect Saint Though we were raised going to church, my mother didn’t come to faith until the Lord saved me in 1999. After my conversion, God began working in her life. The transformation wasn’t swift, and at times it was uncertain. Her struggles often clouded her faith and our ability to interpret her faith’s fruit. Yet even in the darkest days, she didn’t forsake the Lord. She frequently questioned if she was a believer, primarily because she didn’t “feel worthy.” She thought she was too wicked and that God should never receive her. I assured her that the unworthiness she felt was both an opportunity to receive grace and evidence of her having received it. After many years in a theologically moderate church, my parents transitioned to a local Baptist church. Mom began to attend Bible studies and was convinced she should be baptized. I had the honor of baptizing her. When they grew older, my parents returned to the beach where they’d begun life together decades before. After 30 years of life in West Virginia, my parents moved to Calabash, North Carolina, and they asked me to help them find a church. I recommended two. They visited one and never tried the other. Lakeside Baptist in North Myrtle Beach is a vibrant church with godly leadership, gospel-centered preaching, and a loving community. My parents plugged in seamlessly, and I saw the effects on both their lives, especially Mom’s, almost immediately. Mom developed a fresh love for God’s Word and began to study it more deeply than ever before. Scripture’s warnings proved helpful, not condemning. God’s promises became personal, not distant. The Bible’s truths sprang to life and deepened her faith—faith she’d need for the next leg of her journey. Just two years into their retirement, my mother was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. The doctor gave her weeks to live and told her to get her affairs in order. Good Finish My wife and I moved my parents closer so we could help them navigate the difficult days ahead. Our church showered them with generous love, helping them move into a little house just across the street from us. Church members even set it up exactly as their house had looked in North Carolina to ease their transition. Mom found a good doctor, and by God’s grace, she had seven and a half months of life with us. We saw them almost daily, and we created lasting memories. My children got to know their grandparents. My parents received love from our family and the Del Ray Baptist Church body. One night near the end, several dozen folks from church sang hymns in my parents’ backyard to encourage Mom’s faith. The years she’d now spent immersed in God’s Word and in love from God’s people brought a measure of healing to her life. I’d often call Mom to ask what she was doing. She’d reply, “Listening to you teach the Bible.” She found our church’s Bible boot camps online and in her final months, she listened to teachings on Job, 1 Peter, James, and other books. About three weeks before Mom died, I walked in and caught her deep in thought. I asked her what was on her mind, and after a long silence, she tearfully said, “I wasted so much time. I should’ve read my Bible more but I wasted time watching TV, sleeping, worrying, and complaining. I wasted so much time.” I sat next to her on the bed and said, “Mom, you’re probably right. You did waste a lot of time. But you know what? The Bible is full of people who start their journey with God well but fizzle out before they make it home. But blessed are those who finish their course faithfully. Mom, you may not have started as well as you’d like, but you’re finishing well, and I’d rather that any day.” Mom’s frown reversed course and she thanked me, and we embraced. By this time, Mom’s mental health struggles were largely forgotten. She still had bouts of anxiety and anger, but the years she’d now spent immersed in God’s Word and in love from God’s people brought a measure of healing to her life.  Finally at Rest Things took a hard turn near the end. The cancer grew stronger, and Mom’s resolve lessened. There’s a blessing in a slow death because you have the opportunity to say everything you want to say. We read Isaiah 25 and the end of Revelation together. I sang “The Old Rugged Cross” to her and prayed for her often. But there’s also a horrible part to a slow death. Watching your mother eaten alive by a disease is awful. Her faithful husband of 54 years waited on her night and day. He showed his love to his withering bride, doing all he could to make her comfortable. Dad called on a Saturday morning. He was panicked and tearful. He said he’d tried to help Mom to the restroom, but she’d become unresponsive and required assistance from 911. Within an hour, he and I sat in a family waiting room in a Virginia hospital, receiving news that my mother was near death. The doctor told us her organs were all shutting down, and it was only a matter of hours until she’d die. The years she’d now spent immersed in God’s Word and in love from God’s people brought a measure of healing to her life. No matter how long you know the moment of death is coming, you can’t prepare for it. Dad held Mom’s hand as we watched her struggle to breathe. She couldn’t speak anymore but groaned when we told her we loved her. At around 2 o’clock, my mother was surrounded by her husband, son, grandchildren, and daughter-in-law, and her daughter was on a video call from France. We sang “It Is Well with My Soul” and “Amazing Grace” to her. Mom always wanted our family to be together as much as possible, and this seemed to comfort her.  After the family left, Dad and I sat by Mom’s side. Her breathing was labored, and we knew the end was near. I pulled out my copy of Pilgrim’s Progress, which I take with me almost everywhere I go. I turned to the final few pages and began to read. Now I saw in my dream, that by this time the Pilgrims were got over the Enchanted Ground, and entering into the country of Beulah, whose air was very sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly through it, they comforted themselves there for a season. There they heard continually the singing of birds, and saw every day the flowers appear in the earth, and heard the voice of the turtledove in the land. In this country the sun shines night and day. This was beyond the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant Despair, neither could they from this place so much as see Doubting Castle. Here they were within sight of the city they were going to . . . because it was upon the borders of Heaven. By the time I read about Christian and Hopeful passing through the dark river and into glory, Mom had completed her pass through the river as well. In that moment, I was met with a strange mixture of grief and joy. Grief, for obvious reasons, but joy because I knew what Bunyan described was true for Mom. There was no more shadowy Valley to traverse. Nor could the cursed Giant of Despair chase Mom any longer. Never again would she visit Doubting Castle. Rather, her faith became sight that day, and she entered the rest she longed for her whole life. My mother was an imperfect saint, but she finished well. Hell often tried to snatch her away, but Jesus held her fast just like he said he would. Praise him for it. 

Which family in American history was the most influential? It depends on whether we mean most influential in industry, politics, or other spheres. But there can be no question that in the history of moral reform, America’s most influential family was the Beecher clan. This was the 19th-century family headed by patriarch Lyman Beecher but best known today for his daughter Harriet Beecher Stowe, author of the antislavery classic Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Lyman and Harriet were just the tip of the crusading Beecher iceberg. Many books have been written on individual Beechers, and a couple have assessed the family as a whole. But Obbie Tyler Todd’s The Beechers: America’s Most Influential Family takes a fresh look at the family, with a scholarly depth and narrative verve that make this the new definitive book on the Beechers. Todd, a remarkably prolific historian and pastor, argues that earlier scholars tended to overstate the gulf between the Calvinist revivalism of Lyman and the liberalizing views of his children and grandchildren. Instead, Todd proposes we see the Beechers as a reformist whole, whatever the later generations’ dalliances with progressive thought or heterodoxy. Three Central Convictions The first of the Beechers’ unifying beliefs concerned optimism about human nature. This might seem like a strange tenet for the ostensibly Calvinist Lyman to hold, but while he always warned about sin’s debilitating effects, he nevertheless embraced the emerging “New School” Presbyterian positivity about a person’s unaided power to choose the good. Lyman was originally concerned when he observed such non-Calvinist tendencies in the preaching of New York revivalist Charles Finney in the 1820s, but he eventually came to accept and even promote Finneyite beliefs. Lyman was influenced partly by Yale theologian Nathaniel William Taylor, who likewise taught that if God called on all people to repent, they surely were all capable of responding to that call. The Calvinist doctrine of innate moral inability was out; the universal human ability to do good was in. The second Beecher ideal was the Christian household’s primacy. Todd concludes that “the Beechers’ inclination to embrace moral and social and spiritual causes was but an extension of the kinetic energy and religious fervor that already animated their homes” (27). This domestic focus created a wide sphere of operations for the Beecher women, including Harriet and her educator-activist sister Catharine. Domesticity also enabled a Beecherian tendency to de-emphasize the institutional church, another odd tendency given so many Beecher men were pastors (but perhaps a characteristic tendency in American Christianity?). The final conviction of Beecherism was that American “republican” virtues such as freedom and public service were perfected in, and virtually synonymous with, Christianity. “Christian republicanism was in fact the family religion,” Todd writes (30). This helps explain why the Beechers could adhere to virtually any denomination or doctrine (including spiritualism, or the belief in communication with the dead) but still manifest the defining tendency of Beecherism: opposing evil and crusading for good. Room for Doubt As a historian, Todd seems largely content to describe who the Beechers were and what they did. And it’s a feat to do so in fewer than 300 pages of text (excluding the generous endnotes and bibliography), as the Beechers were nothing if not a multigenerational blizzard of activity. Henry Ward Beecher, the best known and most controversial of the Beechers after the Civil War, easily merits lengthy biographical treatment himself, not only because he became one of the first “megachurch” pastors in American history but also because he fell into the worst pastoral sex scandal of the 1870s after media exposure of an extramarital affair. The final conviction of Beecherism was that American ‘republican’ virtues such as freedom and public service were perfected in, and virtually synonymous with, Christianity. At times, however, it can be difficult to remember which Beecher was doing what in the family story. Todd probably couldn not do much to ameliorate that confusion, other than perhaps using first names more often instead of saying “Beecher.” Overall, Todd seems impressed by the Beechers’ accomplishments and troubled by the family’s confident zeal. He might have said more about his concerns. Perhaps he could have done so in a conclusion, but the book does not have one. (The introduction to the book is admirably clear and full, however.) Todd’s doubts regarding the Beechers do appear occasionally, such as when he memorably comments, “Beecherism was less of an idea and more of a bravado” (19). As much as we should admire the Beechers’ antislavery views, their moral indignation was turned up to maximum volume on every issue they confronted, whether the enemy was rum or Sabbath-breaking or the ostensible Catholic menace in America. Some of their stances appear heroic; others appear faddish or narrow-minded. Doctrinal Drift The Beechers seem to represent a kind of moralistic, religiously themed activism that remains with us today, one especially common in the recent age of “wokeness.” Though the causes and enemies change over time, Beecherism shows that Christian activism can become so central to a person’s faith that we might wonder how “Christian” it really is. As much as we should admire the Beechers’ antislavery views, their moral indignation was turned up to maximum volume on every issue they confronted. If a given Christian activist today (on the left or right) stopped going to church and stopped believing in Nicene orthodoxy, would it make any difference in his or her public or social media “profile”? Or is Christianity just a brand and useful posture in the service of the latest campaign against evil? Having a church- and creed-centered understanding of our Christian identity can mitigate the risks of Beecher-style activism. If Christian authority is based on the church, the Word of God, and the faith “once delivered to the saints,” we can better put our moral activism in perspective. In this world, the church will always take prophetic stances against cultural sins. As legitimate as those stances may be, when this world passes away, the activist agendas will pass too. May our prophetic stances be outgrowths of our devotion to the Lord and his church, lest our faith become mere window-dressing for our moralistic agendas.

Isn’t it fascinating how melody, harmony, and even chord progressions in music can stir our hearts to worship God and remind us of the beauty of his character? In this episode of TGC Podcast, Brett McCracken talks with musicians Caroline Cobb, Cody Curtis, and Eric Owyoung about the unique power of Advent and Christmas music. They explore how music captures the longing, joy, and tension of the season—reflecting the celebration of Christ’s first coming and the anticipation of his return. The artists share insights on creating music for these themes, highlighting how Advent and Christmas music can deepen our worship and reflection. Mentioned on this episode: Unto Us: 25 Advent Devotions About the Messiah, Advent devotional by TGC “The Weary World Rejoices: A TGC Advent Concert” “Advent Longing / Christmas Joy” by Brett McCracken: article and Spotify playlist Caroline Cobb: Advent for Exiles: 25 Devotions to Awaken Gospel Hope in Every Longing Heart by Caroline Cobb A Seed, A Sunrise album by Caroline Cobb Cody Curtis: Advent Songs and Christmas Songs albums by Psallos Future of Forestry: “O Come O Come Emmanuel” and “Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus” “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” “The Advent Song” “The Earth Stood Still” “What Beauty”