Democratic Texas state Representative and current Senate candidate James Talarico has made a practice of using his “Christian” faith and background as a Presbyterian seminarian to push progressive causes, such as abortion, LGBTQ+ rights, and gun control, among others.

Earlier this week, in an interview with Stephen Colbert on “The Late Show,” Talarico perpetuated an argument he’s presented multiple times, namely that the “religious right” mistakenly hyper-focuses on “abortion and gay marriage” — two issues, he argued, “that aren’t mentioned in the Bible” and “that Jesus never talked about.”

“Jesus gave us two commandments: Love God and love neighbor. And there was no exception to that second commandment. Love thy neighbor regardless of race or gender or sexual orientation or immigration status or religious affiliation. And it’s why I have fought so hard for the separation of church and state,” the Texas Democrat added.

BlazeTV host Steve Deace joins the host of conservative Christian voices denouncing Talarico as a false teacher, but his criticism goes far beyond relegating the progressive Christian to the realm of heretics.

“James Talarico is going to be Legion,” says Deace.

He explains the biblical pattern of Christian revival, which he believes is happening in the United States right now, regardless of whether or not America survives as a free nation.

First comes the sifting, he says, where God separates true believers from fake or lukewarm ones. Next is “the implementation of a new structure,” where God builds fresh ways of doing church outside of old, dead institutions. The final step is “mobilization.” Once His true followers are sifted and organized, God sends them out on mission to spread the gospel and make disciples locally and globally.

This revival process, Deace explains, has been repeating itself since the formation of the early Christian church.

However, the enemy has his own counterfeit pattern: First, shame people into hiding their faith, convincing them that it’s meant to be “private” between them and God. Then, push the lie of “secularization” — the idea that “there’s a neutral space where no one rules and no one is worshiped and no such space exists, ever has existed, or ever will,” says Deace. And finally, “replace” the faith altogether with an evil religion imposed by the state.

“We’re entering into this third stage now,” Deace warns.

James Talarico, whom Deace calls “an object and a vessel of malevolence,” is “not deceived; he’s the deceiver,” he says. “He is who Paul would have said in Acts, ‘You are a son of the devil.’ He knows what he is doing.”

To stay on the straight and narrow and avoid being duped by people like Talarico, Deace gives a piece of advice: “If sin and repentance and redemption are nowhere in their message, it doesn’t matter what else they say. … That is not the gospel. It is not. It’s a husk. Jesus called it a whitewashed tomb. The heart and soul of the gospel, the battle that was waged over your soul, and it is now being waged over your heart and mind, is because of sin, repentance, and redemption.”

“Guess what was completely and totally missing from James Talarico’s message? Sin, repentance, and redemption. So guess what you just heard none of from James Talarico? The gospel.”

To hear more, watch the episode above.

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​Steve deace, Steve deace show, Blazetv, Blaze media, Deace, Talarico, James talarico, Progressive christianity, Heresy, False teacher, Stephen colbert 

Eight years ago this month, Norma McCorvey died in a Texas nursing home, far from the cameras and courtrooms that once made her the most famous anonymous woman in America. There were no placards, no protests, no press.

She may be gone, but her name endures. The world knew her as “Jane Roe,” the plaintiff whose case redrew the legal landscape and reshaped the conscience of a nation.

Her story reflects a familiar pattern: individuals raised to symbolic status, then discarded once the moment passes.

Her beginnings weren’t marked by power, but by poverty and disorder. Born in rural Louisiana and raised in Texas, she grew up in a home shaped by absence and anger. Her father left early. Her mother battled alcoholism. Punishment was common; tenderness was rare. By adolescence, she had run away, fallen into petty crime, and entered state custody. Order came through institutions rather than through a steady home. Survival, not stability, shaped her youth.

Adulthood brought little relief. She married at 16 and left soon after. Her first child was taken and adopted by her mother. A second was placed for adoption. By 21, she was pregnant again — alone and impoverished, with few options and little guidance.

Alone and impoverished

Texas law allowed almost no abortions. Friends suggested that she claim rape to qualify. The claim failed. Through a chain of referrals, she met two young attorneys seeking a pregnant woman willing to challenge the statute. She agreed. She wanted an abortion. Instead, she became the primary figure in a legal battle she neither directed nor fully understood.

The case moved slowly. She never attended the hearings. She gave birth and placed the baby for adoption. When the Supreme Court ruled in 1973, she wasn’t celebrating. She later said the decision meant little to her at the time. The country changed. Her circumstances did not.

Yet the ruling transformed American life. Abortion became both a protected right and a permanent point of conflict. Clinics multiplied. Protest lines formed. The decision that bore her pseudonym ushered in a legal order under which millions of unborn children would be terminated. In the first half of last year alone, even after the overturn of Roe v. Wade, nearly 600,000 abortions occurred, averaging more than 3,000 each day. The scale is sobering.

An unexpected turn

In the years that followed, McCorvey worked around abortion clinics and publicly supported abortion rights. She spoke for the cause and lived within its orbit, lifted and used by larger forces.

Public relevance did not bring private peace. Her personal life remained unsettled. Addiction, loneliness, and fractured relationships followed her into middle age.

Then, in the mid-1990s, an unexpected turn.

While working at a Dallas clinic, she encountered pro-life volunteers who spoke with steady kindness. They addressed her not as a symbol but as a person. Conversation replaced confrontation. One day, she paused before a poster showing fetal development. The image stayed with her.

Soon after, she left her job.

RELATED: Bernard Nathanson: Abortion architect who found mercy in Christ

Sydney Morning Herald/Antonio Ribiero/Getty Images

Won by love

In 1995, she was baptized into evangelical Christianity in a backyard swimming pool. In her 1997 memoir “Won by Love,” McCorvey described the experience as a turning point, one that reshaped both her public advocacy and her private life.

Three years later, she entered the Catholic Church, a decision widely covered at the time by both secular and religious press. Her public stance changed. She described her role in Roe v. Wade as the greatest mistake of her life. She marched, protested, and testified, urging Americans to reconsider what the nation had embraced.

Her conversion drew admiration from some and skepticism from others. In a 2020 documentary, “AKA Jane Roe,” previously recorded interviews surfaced in which McCorvey suggested that financial incentives had influenced aspects of her pro-life advocacy.

The claims reignited debate over the sincerity of her conversion. Friends and clergy who knew her well disputed that account, describing a woman who prayed daily and took her faith seriously. The tensions remain unresolved. Human lives rarely fit neat narratives.

What remains clear is that her life traced a restless search for belonging and forgiveness. She was not a simple figure. At times blunt and belligerent, at others wounded and weary, she carried deep contradictions. She stood at the center of a historic decision, often seeming invisible within it.

Familiar terrain

Her story reflects a familiar pattern: individuals raised to symbolic status, then discarded once the moment passes. She served as a standard-bearer and later a cautionary tale — celebrated, contested, and set aside. Rarely was she treated as a person.

For Christians, this terrain is not unfamiliar. Scripture offers no flawless heroes, only flawed men and women redirected by grace. David fell. Peter denied. Paul persecuted. Grace did not erase their past; it changed their course.

No honest telling can minimize the consequences of Roe v. Wade. The decision reshaped law, medicine, and family life. McCorvey’s participation in that moment remains a grave part of her legacy.

Yet Christian faith insists that no life lies beyond redemption. The gospel does not deny sin; it denies that sin has the final word.

In her later years, friends described a woman quieter and gentler, less concerned with public approval and more attentive to eternity. She spoke of regret. She spoke as someone who looked back on what she had represented and felt the weight of it.

Eight years on, Norma McCorvey’s life resists easy telling. History will continue to debate her. Movements will continue to claim her. In the end, judgment belongs to God, who sees what no one else can.

​Faith, Norma mccorvey, Roe v. wade, Jane roe, Abortion, Pro-life, Lifestyle, Christianity, Converts