Chris Mintz - a name you should remember after the Oregon shooting

October 02, 2015

Editor

On radio Friday, Glenn shared his reaction to the news of the previous day's shooting massacre in Oregon. With reports surfacing that the perpetrator seemed to be after the notoriety the typically follows such crimes, Glenn refused to even mention his name on radio.

Instead, he focused on one of the heroes that day - Chris Mintz

A 30-year-old Army vet attending the college, Mintz charged the shooter in an effort to save others.

Source: CBS Pittsburgh

He was shot between five and seven times. As he lay wounded on the ground, all he kept saying was, "It's my son's birthday. It's my son's birthday."

Listen to the moving story or read the transcript below.

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

GLENN: The psychopath that killed at least nine in a college massacre, we know that he said on his Facebook page, everybody seems to remember those guys who did all the shootings. They're nobodies until they shoot people. And everybody knows their name. On this program, I'm not going to give this guy's name. His name is not important. He was a psychopath. He was a troubled, troubled individual. I don't know what his motivation was at this point. But it's certainly not what the media is giving you.

He was sick and disturbed. The name I want you to remember is Chris Mintz. He's a 30-year-old student that just started -- this was his first week at college. He was going because he wanted to become a fitness trainer. He was an Army vet. He was shot between five and seven times. We don't know the real number yet. Five and seven times while charging straight at the gunman in an effort to save other people.

He did so on his son's sixth birthday. As he lay wounded on the ground, all he kept saying was, "It's my son's birthday. It's my son's birthday."

When word of Chris Mintz, his heroism reached his native North Carolina. His cousin was hardly surprised. His cousin said, "Sounds like something he would do." He was amazed that a guy who survived a combat deployment without serious injury had come so close to being killed in a small town in Oregon.

They had both joined the Army after graduating from high school. Mintz had been sent to Fort Lewis in Washington State, both had been deployed. After leaving the Army, Chris Mintz, the hero yesterday, moved to Oregon, done a bit of martial arts. He had been working at the local YMCA, while enrolled at the community college, with an eye towards becoming a fitness trainer. His cousin said he's a big guy.

Mintz didn't forget the former colleagues and the former soldiers that he served with. He marked the seventh anniversary of the death of an Army captain Richard Gordon Jr. in Afghanistan by posting a photo and a bio of the fallen officer on Facebook. Just a few days ago, on September 28th on his Facebook page, he wrote, "To the limit. Sir, you are not forgotten."

Then yesterday Mintz began his day by posting again on Facebook. "Happy birthday, my son." Then he headed to UCC for his first week of classes. And when the gunman started firing, he did what he was trained to do. He did what he was born to do. Other students present, includes a woman who was a nurse. She began administering CPR in a desperate attempt to save one of the mortally wounded. After Mintz charged the gunman and he was laying down on the ground bleeding out, she held his hand and prayed with him while he just kept saying over and over again, "It's my son's birthday. It's my son's birthday."

Last night in the hospital, he underwent at least one surgery. He's expected to recover. Doctors say he's going to have to learn how to walk again. I don't want you to remember the guy's name who shot the people yesterday, that caused chaos, that brought death, because that's what he wanted. I don't want to mention his name on the air today. I'm not going to give him what he wants. But I do want you to remember the name Chris Mintz.

There was another veteran that showed up yesterday. He was at the college. He had a gun in his car. Perhaps things would have turned out differently had the college not told him -- I'm sorry. "Go back to your car. Give us your gun." They took his gun away. There was one security guard on campus. One security guard on campus.

He had a can of mace. People want to know why there's shootings at the schools. Because it's open season. You can kill as many as you want before anybody gets there and has any time to do anything. You can kill and kill and kill. It's open season.

You don't see a lot of shootings at firing ranges, do you?

I want you to remember one other thing today. Yesterday, at this time, I told you on the air that this is the time of Christian persecution. I told you at this time yesterday on the air that you were going to see more persecution coming and this was the time that Christians are being persecuted and killed in larger numbers than they have been in the last 2,000 years. More people, more Christians had died for their faith in the last three years than the last 2,000, combined.

Media Matters, other organizations mocked me ironically -- mocked me by yesterday afternoon while Christians were being shot in Oregon. Nobody seems to want to really point out and focus that this man lined people up and said, "Are you a Christian?" If you failed to answer or you answered no, he shot you in the leg. If you answered yes, he shot you in the head. Does that sound like persecution?

But I don't want to focus on the persecution. I again want to focus on the positive. I've said on this program recently, I think al-Qaeda could come over here or ISIS could come over here and I'm not sure they would find any Christians.

Just like the Christians in the Middle East, there are those who are standing up. There are those who are not afraid. What would you have done yesterday as a Christian and you saw him asking people, "Are you a Christian?" And when you said yes, he shot you in the head. How would you have answered?

We have at least nine people that answered yes. Courage is contagious.

This morning as I was driving in, I started to say a prayer. And I asked for prayers last night on Facebook because I saw the president's speech. I see what the media is doing. Nobody seems to care about -- nobody seems to care about the kids that are being shot in Chicago. The president's hometown of Chicago being slaughtered on the streets. Is anybody saying anything about that?

The president is getting angry now because he can't get his way. Hillary Clinton came out yesterday and said, "People just think that this Second Amendment is sacrosanct." It is.

I got into my car this morning, and I -- I said, "God, it's me. It's all of us. Man, how tired you must be of hearing from us on days like today. It's your children, the ones who forget about you all the time, the ones who become arrogant, the ones who get busy. It's us. Your children that don't ever call you, except maybe on your birthday or the holidays. Good morning, Dad. It's us. You know, the children that only call when we're in trouble or we need money. I'm sorry, Dad."

It's funny, now that I'm a dad, now that I'm a grandfather, now that I'm getting older, I really see that I did all of those things to my parents until I was about 30. I forgot about them. It was all about me. I only called them when I needed something or I needed money. And in some ways, the pattern is repeating.

I can't imagine what it's like to be you. Eternal. With billions of children. All making the same mistake. Hearing from us only when we're in trouble.

You had to know we would be calling this morning. You had to know when we were closing our eyes last night that your phone would ring today because we're in trouble. You had to know yesterday when you saw a man walk in and target your children by name, you had to know as darkness played, instead of us coming together, some are using this event to keep us apart again. Some see the killing here in Oregon, that they see it for political purposes.

And I say that's for political purposes because they fail to see the killing on the streets in Chicago. Almost 400 of your kids, our brothers and sisters died this year in Chicago. Six times the amount that were killed yesterday were killed last month in Chicago. Nobody seems to say anything about those kids. Those brothers. Those sisters.

No one in the press seems to notice or care that it was Christians that were martyred yesterday. That this isn't new. Not to you. There were 2 million Christians in Syria 18 months ago. There are now less than 400,000. Children have been crucified in your name while we remain asleep.

Dad, I don't know how you put up with us. Forgive us.

I've been reading the patterns of history. I read what you told Jeremiah when he came to you because they were in trouble. You were really clear. You told him, "Tell the people just stop listening to the liars. Stop listening to the liars that say the temple, the temple, the temple. Stop listening to the liars who are saying, you're going to be fine. God's never going to wipe us off the map. He wouldn't do that. We're his people."

I read where you said, "Yes, I will. I've done it before. And I'll do it again."

I read where you said, "It was too late, Jeremiah. Don't even pray for them anymore."

Dad, I don't have any right to ask you this, but please who may be calling on you for the first time since your birthday. Hear the voices who are calling on you for the first time maybe ever.

I'd just like to remind you in a humble way, I have no right to do this to you, but it was you that chose your children of Israel. It was you that said, "I love these people. I love these children." And you established Israel. But there's only one nation, only one group of people that ever chose you. You chose the Israelites. But we chose you.

We founded our nation on you. We dedicated this nation to you. We're the only nation to ever do that, Lord. And I know we have so sorely lost our way, but that foundation, that covenant is still good. We just need your help. There's so many of us that refuse to wake up. And I thank you for the nudging. I thank you for all of the things that you have done so far to wake us up. You're ripping off the blankets, and you're even turning on the lights. You're opening up the curtains. I know because my mother used to do it to me when I wouldn't get up, and you're doing it to the whole world now.

Please remember, Dad, that we love you. Please remember that we're just foolish children, but there are millions here. And we know because we saw just a handful of them yesterday stand up and die for your sake, your name. Please hear us today. Please call on us. For here I am. Dad, I got to get to work. I know you don't have a reason to believe me. But I will call you back later today just to catch up. We love you.

What our response to Israel reveals about us

JOSEPH PREZIOSO / Contributor | Getty Images

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.