The number of Christians in America is declining - and no one is recognizing the obvious reason

Want to hear a scary number? New research shows that there's been an 8% drop in people identifying as Christian over the past seven years. Meanwhile, the percentage of people who are atheist or agnostic has been rising. What is happening to people of faith in America? Glenn looked at the issue and found some disheartening answers - but there are solutions as well.

Below is a transcript of this segment: 

According to a new Pew Research Center poll, the number of Christians in America has sharply declined in the last eight years from 78.4% in 2007 to 70.6% today. That’s an 8% drop in seven years—remarkable, right?

The survey is of 35,000 Americans, and it showed that the driving force behind the drop was due to millennials. During that same seven-year period, those who describe themselves as atheist, agnostic, or nothing in particular, went from 16.1% to 22.8%. This is an alarming thing for a nation that was built on the concept of God. And the easy explanation is to blame the world, you know, look at the world. I mean, you’re growing up as a millennial, how are you going to possibly say that you’re religious?

It’s no surprise people are saying, “Christian, I’m not Christian.” Why would you call yourself Christian? Those numbers continue to dwindle for good reason. You define yourself as a Christian, and you’re going to be defined by society as narrow-minded, hateful, judgmental. Believing marriage between a man and woman used to be ammunition or still is used as ammunition to say you hate gays. Saying prayer in school is akin to forcing nonbelievers to conform against their will. Teaching intelligent design is literally likened to child abuse now, mocked as anti-science.

Virginity is mocked. Being pro-life is being spun as a war on women, so growing up today as a millennial, that is damn near impossible. Who would intentionally put themselves in a crowd that society has deemed anti-gay, anti-women, anti-science? I mean, sign me up. It’s a harder sell to young people in a culture that bombards them with anti-Christian messaging, but I honestly don’t think that’s the problem. I think that’s part of the problem, but I don’t think that’s the real problem.

The bigger problem is the elephant in the room that I think most Christians don’t want to acknowledge. The biggest problem with the Christian church are all of the Christians. Like it or not, people on the outside are watching, and I know, I can guarantee you that there are people in my church that have a problem because of me. They don’t like me. I know I go to my church, and I don’t like some people in my church.

It seems to me that we’re a little hypocritical. I know I go to other churches, and they don’t like me because of my religion or whatever. We’re, I don’t know—let me put it this way, we’re all waiting for an excuse to not go to church. I mean, I don’t know about you, but on Sunday, anything, anything, please, oh, can we have a snowstorm where the roads are all blocked so we don’t have to go to church? And everything is an excuse not to go.

So, we have far too many excuses, and some of them are real. Our churches are rife with hypocrites, know-it-alls, holier-than-thous, and the judgmental. You can put me in that box far too many times. The reason for this is, as every believer knows, we’re all human beings. We’re all flawed. We’re all liars and cheats and thieves to some extent. We’re at church, at least I am, because it’s a hospital. It’s a spiritual hospital, and we don’t recognize it as that.

We right now look at church and say well church, those are all the good people. No, they’re not. They’re all the people saying help, I need help. But we all put on these Facebook airs that we’re all perfect, it and we don’t recognize that we need someone to rescue us from our condition, that we need grace. The problem is we’re all fallen, and we’ve all fallen short of extending that grace to others.

We bicker amongst denominations, which drives me out of my mind. I’m not trying to change you and your religion, whatever, whatever. Don’t you see the times? The times that we’re living in right now are requiring us for all good men to stand together. We’re so quick to condemn one another, and we are so slow to listen. There are so many good things that happen in so many good churches. All around the country, people are doing amazing things.

I talk to pastors and priests and rabbis all over the country, and I have so much admiration for some of the stuff they’re doing. And then I talk to others, and I’m like what are you doing? Well, we’re all meeting together on Sunday or we’re all coming together on Saturday. For what? What’s the purpose?

This last Sunday, I taught in my gospel doctrine class that I teach, and we were talking about John, I think it’s chapter 9. It’s where he heals the blind man. The apostles come, and they see this blind man. The apostles say to Jesus, “So, who made him blind? Is it his sin or did his parents sin?” Jesus says, you know, no, it’s not that at all. Basically, if I may take it in today’s language, he’s like what? What are you talking about? Of course it’s not that.

Here’s an idea, why don’t you stop looking at the man as a puzzle or a riddle and start looking at him as a man who might need your help? Because the day is only going to last so long, and while the sun is up, what do you say we do some work here? That’s the problem. We are looking at everything, and so many churches will look at—let’s just say gays, and they’ll look at gays—well, is that a sin? Is that this? Is that this? What difference does it make? That’s between them. What do you say we just look at them as people and we just try to help, we just try to love? Can we do that?

That’s where millennials are. They’re not into my church versus your church. I’m not into my church versus your church. I love my church. I love my church. Okay, you go to another church. I have good friends—I tell Pastor Hagee all the time—I shouldn’t say this. No, I definitely don’t tell Pastor Hagee all the time. I’m like Pastor Hagee, come on, come into the waters of baptism, and we joke. You’re a Mormon, come on. He’s like no, I’m not. No, I’m not. We agree on so much. There’s some big doctrine that is out there that we don’t agree on. He’s not a Mormon. I am. I’m not going to join his church. He’s not going to join mine. We’re joking with each other because we look at the fruit of his tree.

Is John Hagee doing good stuff? Yes, he is. Are we doing good stuff? Yes, we are. What do you say we both get together and just do good stuff, we help each other, we hold each other’s arms up? What do you say we do that and look at the fruit of the tree for everybody instead of the name of the church? Who cares what team they’re on? You do your thing, they’ll do their thing, and let’s do good together.

Let’s look at the fruit of the tree. Are we going to help out the Westboro Baptist Church? No, the fruit is bad. The fruit is bad. That’s how you know them. We have to focus on what’s important. No one’s testimony ever begins with, “You know what, I became a Christian because I lost an argument.” It always begins with an act of mercy and kindness. Somebody offered me undeserved forgiveness. Somebody sacrificed personal gain for me or I helped someone or they helped me, and I changed.

It comes from humility. It comes from admitting when you’re wrong. What do you say we just stop with I’m right, I’m right, I’m right, I’m right, and just be doers, not the hearers? Let’s just do.

I have somebody right now my office, she’s working on a Christmas story with me. She’s amazing. She’s amazing. We’re writing this book called The Immortal. I don’t know what is going to be called when it comes out, this book, but right now the working title is The Immortal. It’s all about Christ and Christmas and Santa and St. Nick.

We’re talking, and she’s like I am going to run out of time for this because I’ve got to go back to Africa. She’s adopted two African children, one who has to have surgery every single week. Oh my gosh, she’s got, I think, five kids. One of them has to have surgery every week, and she’s going back to volunteer at an orphanage in Africa where they’re going all the time. That’s who we want to be. That’s who millennials want to be, not somebody who just puts on a tie and sits in a church and listens to somebody lecture them.

They also are not coming to the churches just because it’s a good band. They want to do something, and don’t you? Because I do. If we want people to actually not go to church, change their lives, it begins with us. When our testimony is how we live and church is who we are, we win. We change the world. But we have to recognize our own imperfections, bury our pride, die ourselves, begin to walk in gratitude. Get your head on a swivel and constantly be on the lookout for somebody you can help, even if it’s small. Build relationships instead of walls. Build them for the kingdom, not for ourselves. Remember, it’s not about us, it’s about Him. It’s about them.

Always question your own motives because we’re all prone to forget why we’re here, and we’re here to glorify the Creator, not the creation. The way we do it is not by winning arguments. That’s all that we do now is try to win arguments. How about being hands and feet, doing the work He’s called us to do? You won’t have time to argue. Just do it.

I’m working on some things right now, and I want your help. It comes from me doing the lesson, because when a teacher prepares a lesson, I think the teacher always gets more out of it than the students do. I was preparing this lesson, and every Sunday I do it, I think to myself I should be talking about this on the air. I’m afraid. I’m afraid because I know there’s a lot of people in our audience that don’t like all of that stuff and everything else.

I can’t do that anymore. I can’t do that anymore. Look, everybody told me not to talk about the progressive era. That was when I was trying to figure out what the problem was. Now, I know what the problem is. You know what the problem is. Now we’re trying to find the way to fix it, and I know probably 50% of this audience says God’s not the answer. It is the answer. Fifty percent of the audience says love and courage and hope is not the answer. It is the answer. That being peaceful is not the answer; it is the answer.

To my dying day, it is the answer, and the problem is none of us, we don’t even know. We don’t know these stories. I don’t care if you look at the Bible as something that comes directly from the mouth of God and it’s all verbatim or it’s just a great storybook. Man, it is the best storybook. It used to be what was taught in our classrooms. That was our textbook. Up until about 150 years ago, maybe 100 years ago, that was the main textbook. No wonder we changed when we went to another textbook.

And you read that book, and it has everything in it. So, in the coming months, I’m going to do the absolute insane, and I don’t know if we do it for two months or two weeks or however long, I don’t know, but I’m going to start teaching, because I’ve been taking Torah lessons, and I’m going to teach a little from the Torah and then we’ll teach a little from the New Testament from Acts on.

So, what are you supposed to do? Because man, I read that, and I think every lesson we need is right there. The answers are right there. But it’s going to be tough, and I think it’s going to be fun. I want to have an audience in here. I want to teach it with an audience because I want a conversation. But I want people from all different denominations and people who are open-minded and are looking for what does this mean today? What does it mean today? What are we supposed to get out of it today? Because there are lessons to learn.

On top of that, we’re going to start looking for the people who are actually doers and highlight them, people who are changing their life. Tonight, that’s what this is about. I want to tell you about first Sister Diana, real quick update. She’s that amazing nun in Iraq who was fighting to save Christians. She was denied a visa to the US. I tell you, she was on with me, what was it, last week or the week before. I could barely concentrate on what she was saying because I felt so guilty that she was sitting in a shipping container working to save lives, and all I was doing was sitting here on the set talking about it. Listen.

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Glenn: We know that God won’t hold us blameless, but we feel ill-equipped. Every day, I come into this show, and I do this show. I mean, honestly, I’m watching you in a monitor, and I see the camera take the angle from our jib operator where I’m sitting in this nice chair in this air-conditioned studio, and I’m talking to you. I’m thinking to myself—honestly, part of your comments, I wasn’t even listening to you because I’m thinking to myself, “What the hell are you doing? You should be out helping,” but I don’t know how to help, and I think that most of our audience feels the same way. We know what’s going on, Sister. We just don’t know what to do.

I don’t know if you feel that way, but I’m tired of feeling that way. So, what did you do about it? I’m thrilled to tell you because you saw this, you heard about this, you got on the phone, and you are a big reason why Sister Diana’s visa was just approved. She’s going to be speaking on the Hill tomorrow to share what’s happening with the war on the religious minorities in Iraq. We will give you more about that on tomorrow’s [program]. Much of this is because of you calling Congress, taking action, pressuring them to allow her in.

This summer, I’m starting a tour, and we want to go to churches. I don’t know where and I don’t know how many yet, but I want you to do a couple of things. First, if you’re coming to Dallas anytime in the next six months, we tape mainly on Thursdays with a live audience, but that may change. We may open it up for a few days a week, but if you want tickets to the show, I want you to write to tickets@TheBlaze.com.

If you have any thoughts, I mean, we were talking today about doing a kind of Root special where we get the best minds and we actually make like a documentary series of maybe ten episodes of Revelation for today—Daniel, Isaiah, Ezekiel, Revelation. What are the things we should be paying attention to today? What’s there that we should know today?

That’s what this summer is about for us, connecting with one another and trying to put some things together so we can come out of the gate roaring in September. But most importantly, we want to encourage you and inspire action, and we’re going to be announcing some things the summer that we’re going to do this summer that I’m really excited about, because we have to start exercising our faith for good and exercising it together, because faith without works is dead. Let’s work together.

Trump v. Slaughter: The Deep State on trial

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The administrative state has long operated as an unelected super-government. Trump v. Slaughter may be the moment voters reclaim authority over their own institutions.

Washington is watching and worrying about a U.S. Supreme Court case that could very well define the future of American self-government. And I don’t say that lightly. At the center of Trump v. Slaughter is a deceptively simple question: Can the president — the one official chosen by the entire nation — remove the administrators and “experts” who wield enormous, unaccountable power inside the executive branch?

This isn’t a technical fight. It’s not a paperwork dispute. It’s a turning point. Because if the answer is no, then the American people no longer control their own government. Elections become ceremonial. The bureaucracy becomes permanent. And the Constitution becomes a suggestion rather than the law of the land.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

That simply cannot be. Justice Neil Gorsuch summed it up perfectly during oral arguments on Monday: “There is no such thing in our constitutional order as a fourth branch of government that’s quasi-judicial and quasi-legislative.”

Yet for more than a century, the administrative state has grown like kudzu — quietly, relentlessly, and always in one direction. Today we have a fourth branch of government: unelected, unaccountable, insulated from consequence. Congress hands off lawmaking to agencies. Presidents arrive with agendas, but the bureaucrats remain, and they decide what actually gets done.

If the Supreme Court decides that presidents cannot fire the very people who execute federal power, they are not just rearranging an org chart. The justices are rewriting the structure of the republic. They are confirming what we’ve long feared: Here, the experts rule, not the voters.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

The founders warned us

The men who wrote the Constitution saw this temptation coming. Alexander Hamilton and James Madison in the Federalist Papers hammered home the same principle again and again: Power must remain traceable to the people. They understood human nature far too well. They knew that once administrators are protected from accountability, they will accumulate power endlessly. It is what humans do.

That’s why the Constitution vests the executive power in a single president — someone the entire nation elects and can unelect. They did not want a managerial council. They did not want a permanent priesthood of experts. They wanted responsibility and authority to live in one place so the people could reward or replace it.

So this case will answer a simple question: Do the people still govern this country, or does a protected class of bureaucrats now run the show?

Not-so-expert advice

Look around. The experts insisted they could manage the economy — and produced historic debt and inflation.

The experts insisted they could run public health — and left millions of Americans sick, injured, and dead while avoiding accountability.

The experts insisted they could steer foreign policy — and delivered endless conflict with no measurable benefit to our citizens.

And through it all, they stayed. Untouched, unelected, and utterly unapologetic.

If a president cannot fire these people, then you — the voter — have no ability to change the direction of your own government. You can vote for reform, but you will get the same insiders making the same decisions in the same agencies.

That is not self-government. That is inertia disguised as expertise.

A republic no more?

A monarchy can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A dictatorship can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A constitutional republic cannot. Not for long anyway.

We are supposed to live in a system where the people set the course, Congress writes the laws, and the president carries them out. When agencies write their own rules, judges shield them from oversight, and presidents are forbidden from removing them, we no longer live in that system. We live in something else — something the founders warned us about.

And the people become spectators of their own government.

JIM WATSON / Contributor | Getty Images

The path forward

Restoring the separation of powers does not mean rejecting expertise. It means returning expertise to its proper role: advisory, not sovereign.

No expert should hold power that voters cannot revoke. No agency should drift beyond the reach of the executive. No bureaucracy should be allowed to grow branches the Constitution never gave it.

The Supreme Court now faces a choice that will shape American life for a generation. It can reinforce the Constitution, or it can allow the administrative state to wander even farther from democratic control.

This case isn’t about President Trump. It isn’t about Rebecca Slaughter, the former Federal Trade Commission official suing to get her job back. It’s about whether elections still mean anything — whether the American people still hold the reins of their own government.

That is what is at stake: not procedure, not technicalities, but the survival of a system built on the revolutionary idea that the citizens — not the experts — are the ones who rule.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

1 in 20 Canadians die by MAID—Is this 'compassion'?

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Medical assistance in dying isn’t health care. It’s the moment a Western democracy decided some lives aren’t worth saving, and it’s a warning sign we can’t ignore.

Canada loves to lecture America about compassion. Every time a shooting makes the headlines, Canadian commentators cannot wait to discuss how the United States has a “culture of death” because we refuse to regulate guns the way enlightened nations supposedly do.

But north of our border, a very different crisis is unfolding — one that is harder to moralize because it exposes a deeper cultural failure.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order.

The Canadian government is not only permitting death, but it’s also administering, expanding, and redefining it as “medical care.” Medical assistance in dying is no longer a rare, tragic exception. It has become one of the country’s leading causes of death, offered to people whose problems are treatable, whose conditions are survivable, and whose value should never have been in question.

In Canada, MAID is now responsible for nearly 5% of all deaths — 1 out of every 20 citizens. And this is happening in a country that claims the moral high ground over American gun violence. Canada now records more deaths per capita from doctors administering lethal drugs than America records from firearms. Their number is 37.9 deaths per 100,000 people. Ours is 13.7. Yet we are the country supposedly drowning in a “culture of death.”

No lecture from abroad can paper over this fact: Canada has built a system where eliminating suffering increasingly means eliminating the sufferer.

Choosing death over care

One example of what Canada now calls “compassion” is the case of Jolene Bond, a woman suffering from a painful but treatable thyroid condition that causes dangerously high calcium levels, bone deterioration, soft-tissue damage, nausea, and unrelenting pain. Her condition is severe, but it is not terminal. Surgery could help her. And in a functioning medical system, she would have it.

But Jolene lives under socialized medicine. The specialists she needs are either unavailable, overrun with patients, or blocked behind bureaucratic requirements she cannot meet. She cannot get a referral. She cannot get an appointment. She cannot reach the doctor in another province who is qualified to perform the operation. Every pathway to treatment is jammed by paperwork, shortages, and waitlists that stretch into the horizon and beyond.

Yet the Canadian government had something else ready for her — something immediate.

They offered her MAID.

Not help, not relief, not a doctor willing to drive across a provincial line and simply examine her. Instead, Canada offered Jolene a state-approved death. A lethal injection is easier to obtain than a medical referral. Killing her would be easier than treating her. And the system calls that compassion.

Bureaucracy replaces medicine

Jolene’s story is not an outlier. It is the logical outcome of a system that cannot keep its promises. When the machinery of socialized medicine breaks down, the state simply replaces care with a final, irreversible “solution.” A bureaucratic checkbox becomes the last decision of a person’s life.

Canada insists its process is rigorous, humane, and safeguarded. Yet the bureaucracy now reviewing Jolene’s case is not asking how she can receive treatment; it is asking whether she has enough signatures to qualify for a lethal injection. And the debate among Canadian officials is not how to preserve life, but whether she has met the paperwork threshold to end it.

This is the dark inversion that always emerges when the state claims the power to decide when life is no longer worth living. Bureaucracy replaces conscience. Eligibility criteria replace compassion. A panel of physicians replaces the family gathered at a bedside. And eventually, the “right” to die becomes an expectation — especially for those who are poor, elderly, or alone.

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The logical end of a broken system

We ignore this lesson at our own peril. Canada’s health care system is collapsing under demographic pressure, uncontrolled migration, and the unavoidable math of government-run medicine.

When the system breaks, someone must bear the cost. MAID has become the release valve.

The ideology behind this system is already drifting south. In American medical journals and bioethics conferences, you will hear this same rhetoric. The argument is always dressed in compassion. But underneath, it reduces the value of human life to a calculation: Are you useful? Are you affordable? Are you too much of a burden?

The West was built on a conviction that every human life has inherent value. That truth gave us hospitals before it gave us universities. It gave us charity before it gave us science. It is written into the Declaration of Independence.

Canada’s MAID program reveals what happens when a country lets that foundation erode. Life becomes negotiable, and suffering becomes a justification for elimination.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order. If compassion becomes indistinguishable from convenience, and if medicine becomes indistinguishable from euthanasia, the West will have abandoned the very principles that built it. That is the lesson from our northern neighbor — a warning, not a blueprint.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

A Sharia enclave is quietly taking root in America. It's time to wake up.

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Sharia-based projects like the Meadow in Texas show how political Islam grows quietly, counting on Americans to stay silent while an incompatible legal system takes root.

Apolitical system completely incompatible with the Constitution is gaining ground in the United States, and we are pretending it is not happening.

Sharia — the legal and political framework of Islam — is being woven into developments, institutions, and neighborhoods, including a massive project in Texas. And the consequences will be enormous if we continue to look the other way.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

Before we can have an honest debate, we’d better understand what Sharia represents. Sharia is not simply a set of religious rules about prayer or diet. It is a comprehensive legal and political structure that governs marriage, finance, criminal penalties, and civic life. It is a parallel system that claims supremacy wherever it takes hold.

This is where the distinction matters. Many Muslims in America want nothing to do with Sharia governance. They came here precisely because they lived under it. But political Islam — the movement that seeks to implement Sharia as law — is not the same as personal religious belief.

It is a political ideology with global ambitions, much like communism. Secretary of State Marco Rubio recently warned that Islamist movements do not seek peaceful coexistence with the West. They seek dominance. History backs him up.

How Sharia arrives

Political Islam does not begin with dramatic declarations. It starts quietly, through enclaves that operate by their own rules. That is why the development once called EPIC City — now rebranded as the Meadow — is so concerning. Early plans framed it as a Muslim-only community built around a mega-mosque and governed by Sharia-compliant financing. After state investigations were conducted, the branding changed, but the underlying intent remained the same.

Developers have openly described practices designed to keep non-Muslims out, using fees and ownership structures to create de facto religious exclusivity. This is not assimilation. It is the construction of a parallel society within a constitutional republic.

The warning from those who have lived under it

Years ago, local imams in Texas told me, without hesitation, that certain Sharia punishments “just work.” They spoke about cutting off hands for theft, stoning adulterers, and maintaining separate standards of testimony for men and women. They insisted it was logical and effective while insisting they would never attempt to implement it in Texas.

But when pressed, they could not explain why a system they consider divinely mandated would suddenly stop applying once someone crossed a border.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

AASHISH KIPHAYET / Contributor | Getty Images

America is vulnerable

Europe is already showing us where this road leads. No-go zones, parallel courts, political intimidation, and clerics preaching supremacy have taken root across major cities.

America’s strength has always come from its melting pot, but assimilation requires boundaries. It requires insisting that the Constitution, not religious law, is the supreme authority on this soil.

Yet we are becoming complacent, even fearful, about saying so. We mistake silence for tolerance. We mistake avoidance for fairness. Meanwhile, political Islam views this hesitation as weakness.

Religious freedom is one of America’s greatest gifts. Muslims may worship freely here, as they should. But political Islam must not be permitted to plant a flag on American soil. The Constitution cannot coexist with a system that denies equal rights, restricts speech, subordinates women, and places clerical authority above civil law.

Wake up before it is too late

Projects like the Meadow are not isolated. They are test runs, footholds, proofs of concept. Political Islam operates with patience. It advances through demographic growth, legal ambiguity, and cultural hesitation — and it counts on Americans being too polite, too distracted, or too afraid to confront it.

We cannot afford that luxury. If we fail to defend the principles that make this country free, we will one day find ourselves asking how a parallel system gained power right in front of us. The answer will be simple: We looked away.

The time to draw boundaries and to speak honestly is now. The time to defend the Constitution as the supreme law of the land is now. Act while there is still time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

The Crisis of Meaning: Searching for truth and purpose

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Anxiety, anger, and chronic dissatisfaction signal a country searching for meaning. Without truth and purpose, politics becomes a dangerous substitute for identity.

We have built a world overflowing with noise, convenience, and endless choice, yet something essential has slipped out of reach. You can sense it in the restless mood of the country, the anxiety among young people who cannot explain why they feel empty, in the angry confusion that dominates our politics.

We have more wealth than any nation in history, but the heart of the culture feels strangely malnourished. Before we can debate debt or elections, we must confront the reality that we created a world of things, but not a world of purpose.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

What we are living through is not just economic or political dysfunction. It is the vacuum that appears when a civilization mistakes abundance for meaning.

Modern life is stuffed with everything except what the human soul actually needs. We built systems to make life faster, easier, and more efficient — and then wondered why those systems cannot teach our children who they are, why they matter, or what is worth living for.

We tell the next generation to chase success, influence, and wealth, turning childhood into branding. We ask kids what they want to do, not who they want to be. We build a world wired for dopamine rather than dignity, and then we wonder why so many people feel unmoored.

When everything is curated, optimized, and delivered at the push of a button, the question “what is my life for?” gets lost in the static.

The crisis beneath the headlines

It is not just the young who feel this crisis. Every part of our society is straining under the weight of meaninglessness.

Look at the debt cycle — the mathematical fate no civilization has ever escaped once it crosses a threshold that we seem to have already blown by. While ordinary families feel the pressure, our leaders respond with distraction, with denial, or by rewriting the very history that could have warned us.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

We have entered a cultural moment where the noise is so loud that it drowns out the simplest truths. We are living in a country that no longer knows how to hear itself think.

So people go searching. Some drift toward the false promise of socialism, some toward the empty thrill of rebellion. Some simply check out. When a culture forgets what gives life meaning, it becomes vulnerable to every ideology that offers a quick answer.

The quiet return of meaning

And yet, quietly, something else is happening. Beneath the frustration and cynicism, many Americans are recognizing that meaning does not come from what we own, but from what we honor. It does not rise from success, but from virtue. It does not emerge from noise, but from the small, sacred things that modern life has pushed to the margins — the home, the table, the duty you fulfill, the person you help when no one is watching.

The danger is assuming that this rediscovery happens on its own. It does not.

Reorientation requires intention. It requires rebuilding the habits and virtues that once held us together. It requires telling the truth about our history instead of rewriting it to fit today’s narratives. And it requires acknowledging what has been erased: that meaning is inseparable from God’s presence in a nation’s life.

Harold M. Lambert / Contributor | Getty Images

Where renewal begins

We have built a world without stillness, and then we wondered why no one can hear the questions that matter. Those questions remain, whether we acknowledge them or not. They do not disappear just because we drown them in entertainment or noise. They wait for us, and the longer we ignore them, the more disoriented we become.

Meaning is still available. It is found in rebuilding the smallest, most human spaces — the places that cannot be digitized, globalized, or automated. The home. The family. The community.

These are the daily virtues that do not trend on social media, but that hold a civilization upright. If we want to repair this country, we begin there, exactly where every durable civilization has always begun: one virtue at a time, one tradition at a time, one generation at a time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.