I was a pre-law student when my life changed forever. What began as a historical curiosity soon became a spiritual hunger. If God could shake a nation through one surrendered heart, then surely He could move in mine.
In a performance-driven culture where rewards are tied to productivity and achievement, the idea that God rewards us not solely based on our works but on our faith is revolutionary.
In the hallowed halls of American history, the White House has never been a museum frozen in amber—it's a living, breathing seat of executive power, shaped by the hands of leaders who dared to leave their mark.
When one hears the term peace process, it's tempting to believe that the war in the Middle East is merely political—borders, land, and ceasefires. Yet that interpretation misses something far more profound.
A few years ago, a headline from The New York Times caught my attention: “Iraq Suffers as the Euphrates River Dwindles.” It resonated not because of climate concerns, but because of prophecy. The article inadvertently referenced one of the most stunning end-time predictions in Scripture:
For centuries, theologians have debated the identity of the Antichrist—the mysterious world leader who will deceive the nations, unite the world under his rule, and wage war against God’s people.
In the austere halls of power, a small act of indulgence can become a symbol—sometimes even a sentinel—of grander principles. Such was the tale when President John F. Kennedy, the young Catholic leader of a restless nation, signed the sweeping U.S. trade embargo against Cuba— aware of what it would mean not only for geopolitics but for the humble cigar.
When President Donald J. Trump warned that “China is not our friend—it is our greatest threat,” the political class scoffed. But like General Douglas MacArthur seventy years earlier, Trump saw something the elites refused to see: a communist empire bent on domination, deception, and global control.
