Glenn: “I am not dying for something I don’t believe”

July 07, 2015

WRITER

Being in the spotlight has been both a blessing and a curse for Glenn. On the one hand, it allows him to reach millions of Americans across the country with vital messages of hope and information. But on the other, he has had to have constant security for the better part of a decade. On Monday’s TV show, he described one of the worst death threats he ever got and a terrifying close call that changed his life.

Glenn: Let me tell you a story. I think, David, you know this. Remember when I did The Christmas Sweater?

David: Yes.

Glenn: I was getting hate from all kinds of people. It was amazing. I had gone on the air shortly before, maybe three months before this tour, and I had talked about the 9/11 truthers. I said I think this is nuts. I think this is nuts. Well, at the time, at least, those guys were, at least in New York, they were really dangerous. A video came out about me. I’ll never forget, it was slowed down, distorted, and had driving hard rock music behind it. The voice, a disembodied female voice, said, “All traitors must be executed. All traitors must be executed.” And then the word traitor came on my face.

So, security went crazy, and I’m going out to do this book tour. I’m on the bus, and it was the first time I had to wear a bulletproof vest. I put on the bulletproof vest, and I have to go out into these crowds, shake hands, and do my thing, and we don’t know who’s in the crowd.

The second one, a guy comes up, and we had security like nobody’s business. A guy comes up, and he has his hands in his pockets. My security is all up. We all were focused on just that. He comes up, and he says hey. I try to screw my courage, and I’m like okay, there’s nothing wrong here. I put my hand out, and I said, “Merry Christmas.” He said, “Merry Christmas. All traitors must be executed,” empty hand. Well, he was on the floor by the time he had his hand here.

I went back into the bus, and I thought I don’t know if I can do this. I really don’t know. This was when I was still at CNN. I pictured in my head for that month of Christmas—my wife didn’t know this until much later—what’s the worst thing that could happen to you? And so I pictured myself, the worst-case scenario, only on those things that I truly believe. I made the commitment to myself at that point I am not dying for something I don’t believe. I am never going to say the things that I’m like yeah, I think that’s pretty good, I think that’s pretty close. No, unless I know it, I’m never going to say those things.

I had the extreme case to be able to do that, and I’ve had the extreme with my family and security to be able to do that. So, when they come to me and somebody says are you willing to die for it? I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure. You know what I mean? Most Americans will not have that opportunity. How do we get them, David, I mean, this is kind of why we’re doing this show and trying to show people that are just like you that have changed things and didn’t necessarily weren’t the winners, weren’t necessarily the winners.

David: Not at all. We were talking a minute ago whether faith precedes courage or courage precedes faith and now willing to die for things you believe in. Let me give you one more example because it deals with both of those. This next guys is a guy named Elijah Lovejoy. Elijah Lovejoy was active particularly in Missouri in the 1820s, 1830s. So, you’ve got the Missouri Compromise where the federal Congress for the first time turns around and says hey, we’re going to grow slavery. He’s opposed to this. He’s a preacher. His brother, Owen, is a preacher. He does not consider himself an abolitionist, but he’s a preacher.

He has a weekly magazine called The Observer, and he does religious articles. He started touching on the slavery issue and started talking about what he thought about the slavery issue. His press—

Glenn: Burned down?

David: Three times, came and smashed it. Each time, he’d put it back, go back to it, but you come face to face with what do I believe in? I want you to see this letter he wrote. This is what he said after this. He says, “In The Observer of Thursday, I shall come out openly, fearlessly, and as I hope in such a manner as becomes a servant of Jesus Christ when defending his cause, and whatever may be the consequences, I think, I trust, that through the grace of God, I am prepared to meet them—even unto death itself.”

He says, “My friends are trembling. My enemies, numerous and influential, are open and fiercer in their threats, but I can truly say I was never more calm. I have fasted and prayed. I have earnestly sought the path of duty and think, I am assured, that I have found it, and now I am determined that not all the fury of men or devils shall drive me from it. Yet you need not be disappointed to hear that I have fallen a victim, at least to the lash or the tar barrel.”

He says, “If they content themselves with whipping, I will not run until I have been whipped as often, at least, as Paul was—eight times.” So, he’s prepared himself for all that’s coming, except the next time, they killed them, they shot him. They just assassinated him and then burned his press down over his head.

Glenn: That’s very interesting because the same time and for many of the same reasons, not alone, but many of the same reasons, that’s what Joseph Smith went through, same time, Missouri. They were tar and feathering. They burned down the press because they were also anti-slavery. A lot of people think that happened because of Mormonism, but partly it was because of the Missouri Compromise. He was tarred and feathered, and I don’t think people understand what that was.

David: Oh man, are you kidding?

Glenn: Oh my gosh.

David: Man, if you’ve got any skin left—

Glenn: You’re lucky.

David: Do you know how hot tar has to be to melt and then pour that over somebody? Why don’t we just heat honey to boiling and then just go ahead and pour that on you? He said well, I may get lashed, I may get tarred and feathered, I may get hung.

Glenn: That’s okay.

David: That’s all right. I’ve talked to God about this. I’ve decided this is the right thing to do.

Glenn: That’s the attitude of the people that we’re trying to stand up for in the Middle East. Those people, we win. I mean, ISIS, I’m told that ISIS is freaked out by the Christians in the Middle East because they can’t get them to break. They keep doing these things worse and worse and worse, and nobody is crying, nobody’s begging for their lives. They’re all going quietly, and they can’t figure it out. If we can get to the place to where—somebody taught me once in negotiations, the best negotiation thing I’ve ever seen, and that is never threaten. Make promises. Never bluff, never. Never bluff.

So, when you can sit at a negotiation table or you can sit in this situation or any situation and you can look another man in the eyes and say I’m not moving, I don’t wish you ill, I don’t have any problems with you, but I’m not moving, there is something dog-like in each of us that makes you go crap, they’re serious; they are serious.

David: And that’s that standalone courage. We’ll close this segment out with one more quote. It’s a Texas one, so I’m going to go to Texas, going to go to the Texas rangers for a minute because when the Texas rangers were organized, Texas was a home for all sorts of lawless folks. Let’s back up one to the picture before. These are the guys, man. These are the tough guys that have to take on all the outlaws and the Santa Anna dictators and all the stuff they did.

The guy in the front row, the second guy in, right there, him, that is Capt. Bill McDonald. He runs the rangers. Bill McDonald, and this is what he taught the rangers, and this is where we are today as individuals. This is his quote, Capt. Bill McDonald: No man in the wrong can stand up against a fellow that’s in the right and keeps on a-comin’.” That’s the deal, you stand up, and you don’t back down.

Whether it’s in negotiations, whether it’s in the American Revolution, whether it’s in the anti-slavery cause, whether it’s ISIS, anything else, you stand up, even if it’s by yourself. You don’t back down, and you keep on coming. That overcomes them.

What our response to Israel reveals about us

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I have been honored to receive the Defender of Israel Award from Prime Minister Netanyahu.

The Jerusalem Post recently named me one of the strongest Christian voices in support of Israel.

And yet, my support is not blind loyalty. It’s not a rubber stamp for any government or policy. I support Israel because I believe it is my duty — first as a Christian, but even if I weren’t a believer, I would still support her as a man of reason, morality, and common sense.

Because faith isn’t required to understand this: Israel’s existence is not just about one nation’s survival — it is about the survival of Western civilization itself.

It is a lone beacon of shared values in the Middle East. It is a bulwark standing against radical Islam — the same evil that seeks to dismantle our own nation from within.

And my support is not rooted in politics. It is rooted in something simpler and older than politics: a people’s moral and historical right to their homeland, and their right to live in peace.

Israel has that right — and the right to defend herself against those who openly, repeatedly vow her destruction.

Let’s make it personal: if someone told me again and again that they wanted to kill me and my entire family — and then acted on that threat — would I not defend myself? Wouldn’t you? If Hamas were Canada, and we were Israel, and they did to us what Hamas has done to them, there wouldn’t be a single building left standing north of our border. That’s not a question of morality.

That’s just the truth. All people — every people — have a God-given right to protect themselves. And Israel is doing exactly that.

My support for Israel’s right to finish the fight against Hamas comes after eighty years of rejected peace offers and failed two-state solutions. Hamas has never hidden its mission — the eradication of Israel. That’s not a political disagreement.

That’s not a land dispute. That is an annihilationist ideology. And while I do not believe this is America’s war to fight, I do believe — with every fiber of my being — that it is Israel’s right, and moral duty, to defend her people.

Criticism of military tactics is fair. That’s not antisemitism. But denying Israel’s right to exist, or excusing — even celebrating — the barbarity of Hamas? That’s something far darker.

We saw it on October 7th — the face of evil itself. Women and children slaughtered. Babies burned alive. Innocent people raped and dragged through the streets. And now, to see our own fellow citizens march in defense of that evil… that is nothing short of a moral collapse.

If the chants in our streets were, “Hamas, return the hostages — Israel, stop the bombing,” we could have a conversation.

But that’s not what we hear.

What we hear is open sympathy for genocidal hatred. And that is a chasm — not just from decency, but from humanity itself. And here lies the danger: that same hatred is taking root here — in Dearborn, in London, in Paris — not as horror, but as heroism. If we are not vigilant, the enemy Israel faces today will be the enemy the free world faces tomorrow.

This isn’t about politics. It’s about truth. It’s about the courage to call evil by its name and to say “Never again” — and mean it.

And you don’t have to open a Bible to understand this. But if you do — if you are a believer — then this issue cuts even deeper. Because the question becomes: what did God promise, and does He keep His word?

He told Abraham, “I will bless those who bless you, and curse those who curse you.” He promised to make Abraham the father of many nations and to give him “the whole land of Canaan.” And though Abraham had other sons, God reaffirmed that promise through Isaac. And then again through Isaac’s son, Jacob — Israel — saying: “The land I gave to Abraham and Isaac I give to you and to your descendants after you.”

That’s an everlasting promise.

And from those descendants came a child — born in Bethlehem — who claimed to be the Savior of the world. Jesus never rejected His title as “son of David,” the great King of Israel.

He said plainly that He came “for the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” And when He returns, Scripture says He will return as “the Lion of the tribe of Judah.” And where do you think He will go? Back to His homeland — Israel.

Tamir Kalifa / Stringer | Getty Images

And what will He find when He gets there? His brothers — or his brothers’ enemies? Will the roads where He once walked be preserved? Or will they lie in rubble, as Gaza does today? If what He finds looks like the aftermath of October 7th, then tell me — what will be my defense as a Christian?

Some Christians argue that God’s promises to Israel have been transferred exclusively to the Church. I don’t believe that. But even if you do, then ask yourself this: if we’ve inherited the promises, do we not also inherit the land? Can we claim the birthright and then, like Esau, treat it as worthless when the world tries to steal it?

So, when terrorists come to slaughter Israelis simply for living in the land promised to Abraham, will we stand by? Or will we step forward — into the line of fire — and say,

“Take me instead”?

Because this is not just about Israel’s right to exist.

It’s about whether we still know the difference between good and evil.

It’s about whether we still have the courage to stand where God stands.

And if we cannot — if we will not — then maybe the question isn’t whether Israel will survive. Maybe the question is whether we will.

When did Americans start cheering for chaos?

MATHIEU LEWIS-ROLLAND / Contributor | Getty Images

Every time we look away from lawlessness, we tell the next mob it can go a little further.

Chicago, Portland, and other American cities are showing us what happens when the rule of law breaks down. These cities have become openly lawless — and that’s not hyperbole.

When a governor declares she doesn’t believe federal agents about a credible threat to their lives, when Chicago orders its police not to assist federal officers, and when cartels print wanted posters offering bounties for the deaths of U.S. immigration agents, you’re looking at a country flirting with anarchy.

Two dangers face us now: the intimidation of federal officers and the normalization of soldiers as street police. Accept either, and we lose the republic.

This isn’t a matter of partisan politics. The struggle we’re watching now is not between Democrats and Republicans. It’s between good and evil, right and wrong, self‑government and chaos.

Moral erosion

For generations, Americans have inherited a republic based on law, liberty, and moral responsibility. That legacy is now under assault by extremists who openly seek to collapse the system and replace it with something darker.

Antifa, well‑financed by the left, isn’t an isolated fringe any more than Occupy Wall Street was. As with Occupy, big money and global interests are quietly aligned with “anti‑establishment” radicals. The goal is disruption, not reform.

And they’ve learned how to condition us. Twenty‑five years ago, few Americans would have supported drag shows in elementary schools, biological males in women’s sports, forced vaccinations, or government partnerships with mega‑corporations to decide which businesses live or die. Few would have tolerated cartels threatening federal agents or tolerated mobs doxxing political opponents. Yet today, many shrug — or cheer.

How did we get here? What evidence convinced so many people to reverse themselves on fundamental questions of morality, liberty, and law? Those long laboring to disrupt our republic have sought to condition people to believe that the ends justify the means.

Promoting “tolerance” justifies women losing to biological men in sports. “Compassion” justifies harboring illegal immigrants, even violent criminals. Whatever deluded ideals Antifa espouses is supposed to somehow justify targeting federal agents and overturning the rule of law. Our culture has been conditioned for this moment.

The buck stops with us

That’s why the debate over using troops to restore order in American cities matters so much. I’ve never supported soldiers executing civilian law, and I still don’t. But we need to speak honestly about what the Constitution allows and why. The Posse Comitatus Act sharply limits the use of the military for domestic policing. The Insurrection Act, however, exists for rare emergencies — when federal law truly can’t be enforced by ordinary means and when mobs, cartels, or coordinated violence block the courts.

Even then, the Constitution demands limits: a public proclamation ordering offenders to disperse, transparency about the mission, a narrow scope, temporary duration, and judicial oversight.

Soldiers fight wars. Cops enforce laws. We blur that line at our peril.

But we also cannot allow intimidation of federal officers or tolerate local officials who openly obstruct federal enforcement. Both extremes — lawlessness on one side and militarization on the other — endanger the republic.

The only way out is the Constitution itself. Protect civil liberty. Enforce the rule of law. Demand transparency. Reject the temptation to justify any tactic because “our side” is winning. We’ve already seen how fear after 9/11 led to the Patriot Act and years of surveillance.

KAMIL KRZACZYNSKI / Contributor | Getty Images

Two dangers face us now: the intimidation of federal officers and the normalization of soldiers as street police. Accept either, and we lose the republic. The left cannot be allowed to shut down enforcement, and the right cannot be allowed to abandon constitutional restraint.

The real threat to the republic isn’t just the mobs or the cartels. It’s us — citizens who stop caring about truth and constitutional limits. Anything can be justified when fear takes over. Everything collapses when enough people decide “the ends justify the means.”

We must choose differently. Uphold the rule of law. Guard civil liberties. And remember that the only way to preserve a government of, by, and for the people is to act like the people still want it.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Stand with Voddie Baucham’s family in this time of loss

In the quiet aftermath of a profound loss, the Christian community mourns the unexpected passing of Dr. Voddie Baucham, a towering figure in evangelical circles. Known for his defense of biblical truth, Baucham, a pastor, author, and theologian, left a legacy on family, faith, and opposing "woke" ideologies in the church. His book Fault Lines challenged believers to prioritize Scripture over cultural trends. Glenn had Voddie on the show several times, where they discussed progressive influences in Christianity, debunked myths of “Christian nationalism,” and urged hope amid hostility.

The shock of Baucham's death has deeply affected his family. Grieving, they remain hopeful in Christ, with his wife, Bridget, now facing the task of resettling in the US without him. Their planned move from Lusaka, Zambia, was disrupted when their home sale fell through last December, resulting in temporary Airbnb accommodations, but they have since secured a new home in Cape Coral that requires renovations. To ensure Voddie's family is taken care of, a fundraiser is being held to raise $2 million, which will be invested for ongoing support, allowing Bridget to focus on her family.

We invite readers to contribute prayerfully. If you feel called to support the Bauchams in this time of need, you can click here to donate.

We grieve and pray with hope for the Bauchams.

May Voddie's example inspire us.

Overcoming loneliness: Connecting in a disconnected world

Loneliness isn’t just being alone — it’s feeling unseen, unheard, and unimportant, even amid crowds and constant digital chatter.

Loneliness has become an epidemic in America. Millions of people, even when surrounded by others, feel invisible. In tragic irony, we live in an age of unparalleled connectivity, yet too many sit in silence, unseen and unheard.

I’ve been experiencing this firsthand. My children have grown up and moved out. The house that once overflowed with life now echoes with quiet. Moments that once held laughter now hold silence. And in that silence, the mind can play cruel games. It whispers, “You’re forgotten. Your story doesn’t matter.”

We are unique in our gifts, but not in our humanity. Recognizing this shared struggle is how we overcome loneliness.

It’s a lie.

I’ve seen it in others. I remember sitting at Rockefeller Center one winter, watching a woman lace up her ice skates. Her clothing was worn, her bag battered. Yet on the ice, she transformed — elegant, alive, radiant.

Minutes later, she returned to her shoes, merged into the crowd, unnoticed. I’ve thought of her often. She was not alone in her experience. Millions of Americans live unseen, performing acts of quiet heroism every day.

Shared pain makes us human

Loneliness convinces us to retreat, to stay silent, to stop reaching out to others. But connection is essential. Even small gestures — a word of encouragement, a listening ear, a shared meal — are radical acts against isolation.

I’ve learned this personally. Years ago, a caller called me “Mr. Perfect.” I could have deflected, but I chose honesty. I spoke of my alcoholism, my failed marriage, my brokenness. I expected judgment. Instead, I found resonance. People whispered back, “I’m going through the same thing. Thank you for saying it.”

Our pain is universal. Everyone struggles with self-doubt and fear. Everyone feels, at times, like a fraud. We are unique in our gifts, but not in our humanity. Recognizing this shared struggle is how we overcome loneliness.

We were made for connection. We were built for community — for conversation, for touch, for shared purpose. Every time we reach out, every act of courage and compassion punches a hole in the wall of isolation.

You’re not alone

If you’re feeling alone, know this: You are not invisible. You are seen. You matter. And if you’re not struggling, someone you know is. It’s your responsibility to reach out.

Loneliness is not proof of brokenness. It is proof of humanity. It is a call to engage, to bear witness, to connect. The world is different because of the people who choose to act. It is brighter when we refuse to be isolated.

We cannot let silence win. We cannot allow loneliness to dictate our lives. Speak. Reach out. Connect. Share your gifts. By doing so, we remind one another: We are all alike, and yet each of us matters profoundly.

In this moment, in this country, in this world, what we do matters. Loneliness is real, but so is hope. And hope begins with connection.