Country Music Star Charlie Daniels Talks About His Faith in New Memoir

Country legend Charlie Daniels has had a long and storied career. He’s now about to turn 81 and set to release his memoir, “Never Look at the Empty Seats.”

“I’ve had a great life,” he said while chatting with Glenn on radio Monday. “I wouldn’t trade lives with anybody.”

Daniels is best known for his country hit, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” and he has been inducted into the Grand Ole Opry and the Country Music Hall of Fame. On today’s show, he talked about some of the highs and lows from his more than 60 years in music.

Listen to the full clip to hear Daniels talk about meeting “larger than life” Johnny Cash and share more stories.

This article provided courtesy of TheBlaze.

GLENN: Charlie Daniels is in the studio. And I just was having a chat with him. And I said, I can't believe I'm sitting with Charlie Daniels and he knows my name.

How are you, Charlie?

CHARLIE: I'm good, buddy. Good to be with you. It's an honor.

GLENN: Yeah, you haven't changed a bit. I can't believe you're 80.

CHARLIE: I'll be 81. Twenty-eighth of this month, I'll be 81.

GLENN: Unbelievable. You don't look it at all.

CHARLIE: Well, thank you very much.

GLENN: You have had a remarkable life.

CHARLIE: Oh, I have. I've had a great life. I wouldn't trade lives with anybody. I've done what I've wanted to do for a living for almost 60 years now, exactly what I wanted to do for a living. That's a blessing.

GLENN: And I will tell you -- your book is, by the way, really good.

CHARLIE: Thank you.

GLENN: And it's full of God and blessings, and I want to talk to you about it. But the one thing I didn't know is, at any point, did you think, maybe God doesn't want me to -- to play the fiddle or play the guitar, because you lost a finger.

CHARLIE: I did.

GLENN: Your arms were almost pulled off, from an auger.

CHARLIE: Yeah. You know, I never thought -- I wanted to get up and go on, you know, just beat it and get on with the program.

I did lose a finger in high school. But I lost it on my right hand. If it had been my left hand, it'd have been the end of my career, because that's the one I pushed the strings down, the chord with. But since I just use my other hand, my right hand to hold a fiddle bow and a guitar pick, I was okay.

My arm that got tangled in a post hole digger, it's like an auger that digs post holes in the ground. And my arm literally got wrapped up on it. I had the bone out through the skin in a couple of places, and it was broken completely in two and three places.

And I never went -- you know, a tractor, a lot of times, even after you turn it off, it will -- if it had done that, it would pull my arm off, probably.

And I remember being down on my knees, and I said, help me, Lord. And the guy that had the tractor, when the tractor -- he cut it up and stopped. And then wound my arm and took me to the hospital and get it put back together.

GLENN: And that was 1980. That was the height of your career.

CHARLIE: 1980. The hottest time of my year. Went down to Georgia. Took about four months off. Most frustrating time of my life.

GLENN: Oh, I bet it was.

CHARLIE: But I learned something. I learned during that four months, I did nothing. And when I got back on my feet again and really started to, you know, where I could move around, I was in such terrible condition, I could only walk about 100 yards. And I said, this ain't going to do. And I started walking 110 yards and 120 yards. Anyway, I worked up to where I was doing a good level of exercise. And I had maintained that ever since then.

So I think I needed -- I needed that time in my life to reassess taking care of myself.

GLENN: Yeah.

CHARLIE: And I've done it a lot better since then.

GLENN: So in 1980, you were at your height. Devil went down to Georgia. I mean, it's crazy. The record industry is still the record industry.

CHARLIE: Yeah.

GLENN: And then -- then things start to soften and your ticket prices go down.

CHARLIE: Right.

GLENN: And you realize, not only are we not rolling in the cash, I owe $2 million.

CHARLIE: That's right. I -- that's another lesson I learned. I kind of let that happen over a period of time.

And I got involved in a lot of businesses I shouldn't have been involved in. There were peripheral things to the music business, but -- that I knew nothing about. The first thing I knew, we were $2 million in debt. And I said, we have got to do something about this.

And we had to take -- we took a lot of dates back then. And every old smoky-type place you can find, just for a payday. Just to keep the payment settled. And I said my prayers -- and put on my hat and my boots and picked up my guitar and my fiddle. And we hit the road.

And the day that we got our debts paid off -- we have an annual Christmas party with our company, with our employees. And we took the notes out in the yard and burned them, which was very symbolic to me. I was so glad to get rid of them. But, yeah, that was another lesson I learned.

STU: It's a different way of looking at the world. Because now I feel like when people struggle and they have these problems, they're blaming other people for having -- they want other people to step in and cover their losses. You thought, maybe if I just work my butt off --

CHARLIE: Well, it was my fault. You know, I take responsibility for my actions. I have to.

STU: What language are you speaking?

GLENN: Again, you can tell how old he is just by that statement.

CHARLIE: Well, you know, I think you're a miserable person if you can't -- if you're going to blame everything on somebody else, you have no control over your life. That's ridiculous.

If you want to see your enemy, go look in the mirror. Start there. And then you kind of work your way around and find out what the rest of the problems are.

But basically, I take responsibility for most all the bad things that have happened to me. The good things are blessings of God. The bad things are my fault.

GLENN: Yeah.

If there's one person I could go back in time and meet, they would be the -- the only man I ever saw my grandfather stand up and give a standing ovation to, when he walked out on stage. And it was Johnny Cash.

CHARLIE: Wow. Yeah. Johnny Cash was bigger than life. And when he walked in a room, I mean, he just -- you just could not ignore him.

I -- when I first went to Nashville in '67. I was just another young man with a guitar that showed up the music business and tried to make it in the business. Music City, tried to make it in the business.

And you don't run into many superstars at this stage of your career. But I did run into him, several times around town. And he didn't know who I was. It didn't make any difference who you were. It was like every time you would see him, it was a handshake. And how are you doing? How is it going?

Back and forth. I'm standing there with my mouth open, said, I'm talking to Johnny Cash. I worked for a guy that used to produce Johnny Cash. This guy named Bob Johnson. And I'd run an errand for him once in a while. I'd take a tape to Johnny or something, you know. And usually all he had to do was walk on up, but he didn't do that. He always took time to be a conversational. I never in my life forget what that meant to me and what an encouragement it was. And your granddad had good taste.

GLENN: He did.

CHARLIE: He honored a great man. No doubt about it.

GLENN: I remember being up to his knee. And I remember seeing -- it was at a state fair.

CHARLIE: Uh-huh.

GLENN: And I remember seeing the bus pull up to the back. And this guy in black get out. And he walked out. And my grandfather stood up.

CHARLIE: Yeah.

GLENN: Erect. And gave him a standing ovation. And I remember not looking up at the stage. I remember looking up at my grandfather of seeing his face of admiration of him.

CHARLIE: Oh, he was a great man, no doubt about it. Great artist. Great man. You know, they did a thing. It's called the Top 40 all time country music men or something like that. I can't remember the exact title of it. But I thought Hank Williams would come in at number one. Number one was Johnny Cash. Yeah.

GLENN: Yeah. Who out of all the people -- I mean, you've worked with everyone. And you've been around with everyone. You were in, what? 1973, you were with Ringo Starr, they're joking about, you want to be in the Beatles. I mean, what are the -- who made the lasting impression on you? Who is the one you learned the most from?

CHARLIE: You know, I -- go back to the Johnny Cashes and those -- of course, Johnny had -- I admired Johnny Cash. He had overcome so many adversities in his life, and he just kept going.

And the greatest thing that ever happened to Johnny Cash was June Carter, because she was such an influence on his life.

But as far as who impressed me was concerned, I came along -- when I came along as Bluegrass, it was Flat & Scrubs (phonetic) and Bill Monroe. And Reno and Smiley. And I didn't even want to hear nothing else. That's all I wanted to hear. And about the time Elvis came along, he made it possible for country boys to play rock music. Before then, it was bighorn sections. And, you know, the -- that kind of thing.

GLENN: Yeah.

CHARLIE: And Elvis would come up with two guitars and a bass and drums and started playing rock music.

And everybody said, I want to do that, you know. I remember, Glenn, when I was in -- I think I was a senior in high school, and we had taken a trip down to Silver Springs, Florida. We were touring around on a school trip.

I remember seeing a great big placard. And it was a big country music package show, and it was The Louvin Brothers, Hank Snow. And down at the bottom, in type about the size of almost like typewriter print, it said Jimmie Rodgers Snow and Elvis Presley. And nobody knew who he was. First time I ever heard him, I hated him. He was on the Midnight Jamboree. The Jamboree that comes on after the Grand Ole Opry. And he sang Blue Moon of Kentucky. And it was -- I was a Bill Monroe fanatic, and this guy sang one of Bill Monroe's signature songs. And he sang -- you know how he sang it.

And I thought, who the hell -- I'll never hear from him again. That's the last thing he'll ever do.

It took him on that tour -- it took him all about two weeks to become the most popular thing on the tour. Everybody -- nobody could follow him. It got to where everybody would go in, everyone would start hollering, Elvis, Elvis.

And, you know, Hank Snow, he was a great big artist at the time. The Louvin Brothers were big artists at the time, and everybody wanted to hear him. This new guy that nobody had ever heard of, named Elvis.

GLENN: We're with Charlie.

CHARLIE: He was a big influence on me. I just wanted to say.

GLENN: We're talking to Charlie Daniels. The name of the book is Never Look at the Empty Seats. A couple of other things I want to talk him about. We'll continue our conversation here in a second.

GLENN: The legendary Charlie Daniels is with us. The name of his book, Never Look at the Empty Seats.

If we have time, I got to get him to tell that story in the book, on why he named it that. It's a great, great lesson.

Charlie, I was -- I was impressed by what you talked about with your dad.

CHARLIE: Uh-huh.

GLENN: And describing your dad.

CHARLIE: Yeah.

GLENN: In some ways, I'm an alcoholic. And you described me in many ways.

Your dad was not a wino. When you think of alcoholic, you think of a washed-up --

CHARLIE: Yeah. My dad was probably one of the top five people in pine timber in the southeast. He could look at a pine tree and he could you what kind of pole or piling it would make. How many feet of lumber it would make. And his millions of dollars changed hands on nothing more than his word. He would go cruise attractive timber. He would come back and say, this is worth so many thousands of dollars. They just paid it for him, because they knew his word was good. He had this problem with alcohol, and it truly is a sickness.

And he would go for as long as five years, never touch a drop of liquor. But he always said, I'm one drink away from a drunk. If I take the first one, I'm finished. And somehow, some way, he would take that first one. It was like several weeks to get straightened out. He would lose jobs. But he would always -- he always had a job waiting for him, because he's just that good. Even people that he had worked for before, that fired him, would hire him back again.

So my point was -- I was trying to get the point across, and that was the hard thing for me to talk about. Because usually when you say alcoholic, somebody thinks about something, stumble upon -- you know, walking around, looking for money to -- somebody get him a drink. But dad wasn't that way at all.

He was always loving. He always took care of his family. He was very responsible.

You know, something, Glenn, I used to go to AAA meetings with him. And I met a lot of alcoholics. I have never seen one sorry alcoholic. I saw a lot of sorry old drunks. But literally, the people that I met in his meetings, I mean, they were businessmen. They were responsible people that had that problem.

GLENN: Yeah. Oh, yeah.

CHARLIE: You know, that had that alcoholic problem.

GLENN: If you can beat it, you -- it gives you quite perspective on life. I mean, some of the best people I've ever met are alcoholics.

CHARLIE: Yeah. Yeah. I've been surprised at some people that told me they're alcoholics.

GLENN: So, Charlie, the thing that I'm searching for right now in my own life is what matters most. You know, with all of the stuff that is going on in the world and all of the things we're arguing on and bickering on and everything else, as you look back, out of all the things that you have done and seen and learned, what matters most to you?

CHARLIE: There's four things that rule my life. God, first of all. Family, secondly. My nation, my country, the way I feel about it, the way I want it to be, and my work.

That's the four things -- I try to concentrate on those four things. And as long as I do that, I keep a good perspective. I start getting sidelined by something that somebody else is doing, or something that really agitates me. It takes time away -- I found out it takes just as much time to think a negative as it is to think a positive thought.

GLENN: Yeah. And I tried to live in a positive world.

I got a lot of things that I really enjoy doing. This writing is something I didn't even know I could do.

GLENN: Yeah, it's really good.

CHARLIE: You know, I didn't know I could do it. It's just another talent God gave me, that it took me a long time to discover.

I wrote on this book for 20 years. And I was just making notes and stuff.

And all of a sudden, I said, well, I'm going to make a book out of this. And I could never find a place to end it, because my life wasn't -- I didn't get invited to join the Grand Ole Opry until I was in my 70s. So interesting things kept happening, and I kept writing.

And I could never find a place to end it, until I was told, I was going to be inducted into the country music Hall of Fame. And I thought, what a great place to end it. So the night I was inducted, the next morning, I sat down. I wrote the ending. And I kind of backfilled where I was. And I had the book. And you asked me about the title.

The title -- if you're a young musician, if you're serious about it, and I was. You will play anywhere you can for anybody that's there for anything they'll give you. And you're going to see a lot of empty seats, because nobody knows who you are.

But if you please those people, you forget the empty seats. You concentrate on the ones -- you accentuate the positive, as the old song says. If you concentrate on them, the next time you go back to town, those people are going to say, hey, that guy is pretty good. Hey, let's go see him.

And they'll bring somebody with them. That's how you build a following. And I keep trying to tell these young guys this, you know. All the time.

When you walk on that stage, you give it the best you've got. If your dog died, if your girlfriend left you, whatever the heck happened, that's not the ticket price. They deserve a show. Go give them a show. So that's what the title is about.

GLENN: You -- my father was about your age. He's -- he would be probably 85 or 86 now if he were alive. And he said to me, you know, I've seen a lot of things in my life. Didn't expect that we would ever go to the moon, when I was growing up.

CHARLIE: Uh-huh.

GLENN: And he said, I'm glad my time is past because I -- I worry about how you're going to navigate the future.

Do you worry that?

CHARLIE: Well, I have a son. I only got one boy. He's 53 years old. And he's got a pretty good handle on it. Now, the grandkids, I don't know how they -- I would literally hate to grow up in a world nowadays. Because it's a world -- Glenn, I don't understand the world anymore. I don't understand how it works. I don't understand what motivates people.

I feel that a lot of people in this country either don't know or don't care where we came from and how we got here.

GLENN: Yeah.

CHARLIE: And the blood that was shed and the sacrifices that were made to get us where we are. And I'm an old World War II guy. I remember the day Pearl Harbor was bombed. My city that I came from, Wilmington, North Carolina, is a seaboard town. We had oil tankers and cargo boats that went across the ocean. You know, to service our troops. And there were some -- several of them, just off our beaches by German U-boats that were out there. So we took the war very seriously. And I learned -- and I say this on stage every night, two things protecting America is the grace of the Almighty God and the United States military. And --

GLENN: Charlie, I love you. Thank you so much.

CHARLIE: Love you too, my friend.

GLENN: The name of the book is Never Look at the Empty Seats. Well worth the price of admission. Charlie Daniels.

CHARLIE: Thank you.

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.