In 2018, I was a guest of Sen. Marsha Blackburn (R-Tenn.) at the State of the Union. The place was electric — political theater at its finest. Members of Congress, guests, and press were packed into a room that felt more like a pressure cooker than a chamber. And whoever designed those gallery seats clearly had smaller people in mind.

We had to be there early, which meant a lot of sitting. I struck up a conversation with the man seated just behind me to my left. It turned out to be Bill Nye. He was cordial. My kids had watched him on TV. We talked briefly, just two people passing time.

A serious person is obligated to be even-handed, even when he doesn’t like someone or disagrees with him.

After the speech by Donald Trump, as the room began to empty, I stuck my hand out to Bill, and his only response was, “He didn’t talk about space.”

It wasn’t a big comment. But it was revealing. We had just witnessed something few people ever experience in person. And that was his takeaway.

A lot has happened with America’s space program since then.

I looked and have yet to see where Bill Nye said, “I don’t agree with the man, but something good happened here.”

I did see he was at a No Kings rally last month.

Which raises a simple question: Are we willing to acknowledge what is true, even when we don’t like who it’s attached to?

We hear a lot about following the science. Fine. Then follow it.

Because if you start with the premise that a person is irredeemable, then everything he does must be dismissed. At that point, you’re not evaluating evidence. You’re protecting a conclusion you’ve already chosen.

We’ve seen this before. A man once stood face to face with truth and asked, “What is truth?” Not because the answer wasn’t there, but because he had already decided what he was willing to accept and what it might cost him.

Truth is not hard to find, but it’s hard to accept when it costs us something.

Sometimes you see people model a better way.

I encountered one of those moments when my wife, Gracie, sang at the inauguration of the governor of Tennessee.

At the time, Harold Ford Jr. was a young congressman who was present at the event. After Gracie performed, there were a lot of people on that platform. Important people. People far more connected than we were.

But Harold made a point to come straight to us.

Not a quick handshake and move on. He engaged. Asked questions. Took genuine interest.

A few days later, we found ourselves on the same flight to Washington. Gracie was headed to Walter Reed to sing for wounded warriors. Once again, Harold made a beeline for us.

Same posture. Same curiosity. Same kindness.

We’ve not crossed paths since, but I still watch him when he’s on “The Five.” Not because I agree with everything he says. I don’t. I watch because he is measured. He gives credit where it’s due. He asks questions. He looks for common ground. He treats people as individuals, not categories.

That stayed with me.

I saw something recently that would have been unthinkable not long ago.

Mark Levin had Sen. John Fetterman (D-Penn.) on his show. If talk radio were music, I always considered Rush Limbaugh a virtuoso and Mark Levin heavy metal.

Levin and Fetterman engaged. Asked real questions. Gave thoughtful answers. No rush to score points.

Just two men doing something we used to call normal. And that’s when it hit me. Why does that feel unusual?

RELATED: You don’t have to engage with crazy

Mark Von Holden/WireImage

For 40 years, I’ve lived in a world where I don’t get to choose who walks into the room to care for my wife. Nurses. Surgeons. Specialists. People from every background and belief system.

I’ve seen medical professionals wearing pronouns on their badges. While I inwardly sighed and questioned the scientific judgment of someone who touts that, Gracie still needed care.

And in that moment, my irritation didn’t get a vote. So I did what caregivers learn to do.

I stuck out my hand and engaged. I listened, observed, and learned to separate what I felt about a person from what I could clearly see in front of me.

A serious person is obligated to be even-handed, even when he doesn’t like someone or disagrees with him.

The next time you hear something good about someone you can’t stand, ask yourself a simple question: Could this be objectively true, even though I don’t like this person?

You don’t have to change your vote or your convictions, but you do have to decide whether you’re going to follow the facts or protect a script.

In the real world, where people actually depend on you, clinging to a preferred script isn’t just lazy, it can be very costly.

If you’re willing to set that script aside, even for a moment, you might find something better than being right.

You might find clarity. And in a world this loud, that’s no small thing.

​State of the union, Political disagreement, Caregiving, Truth, Donald trump, Mark levin, John fetterman, Opinion & analysis 

There was a time when God revealed himself in astonishing, tangible ways.

In the Old Testament, he led the Israelites through the wilderness by appearing as a pillar of cloud and fire; he descended on Mount Sinai with thunder, lightning, thick smoke, and a loud trumpet blast to deliver the Ten Commandments; he took the prophet Elijah to heaven in a whirlwind with a chariot and horses of fire; and the list goes on.

But since the coming of Jesus, God has been much more subtle in how he reveals himself. Many Christian testimonies include encounters with God, but they are usually experienced in quiet, personal moments.

John Luke Robertson believes this is why so many people today refuse to believe in God. On this episode of “Unashamed,” he joins Al Robertson, Zach Dasher, and Christian Huff to unpack exactly that.

John Luke points out that Jesus’ own life and ministry were clearly marked by subtlety.

“He could have said at 12 years old, ‘I’m the Messiah,’ and started it from there, but He waited till He was 30,” he explains.

Even after his ministry began, Jesus often told people — including his disciples and those he healed — to keep his miracles secret. Multiple times in the Gospels, he is recorded saying “my time has not yet come” when people tried to force his hand or make him king too soon.

When he finally faced the cross, Jesus still remained subtle in admitting his divinity, responding to direct questions like “Are you the Son of God?” or “Are you the King of the Jews?” with humble affirmations such as, “You have said so” or “you say that I am.”

“All the way up till the very end, he didn’t have this big reveal of who he was. … And I think we see that same thing with God now,” says John Luke.

John Luke recalls hearing an atheist explain that he doesn’t believe in God because if he were real, “He would have revealed himself more openly.”

But if you look back through history, this isn’t a modern issue. For centuries people have been demanding more obvious or dramatic power.

“I was just reading this book talking about the same thing,” says Christian. “It was these two early historians … and they were saying they don’t believe the gospel and Jesus because they’re like, ‘After the resurrection, why would he appear to women and to peasants? … Why would he not appear to Caesar and Pilate and all these powerful people?”’

In the next segment of the show, the panel moves deeper into how this expectation of a more dramatic, public revelation of God has roots in ancient heresies that the early church had to confront — errors that still influence skeptical thinking today.

To hear it, watch the episode above.

Want more from the Robertsons?

To enjoy more on God, guns, ducks, and inspiring stories of faith and family, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution, and live the American dream.

​Unashamed, Unashamed with the robertsons, Blazetv, Blaze media, Early church, Heresy, Jesus, Christianity, Old testament 

One of the remarkable scientific discoveries of the past several decades is that the universe and Earth appear fine-tuned for life.

Philosopher of science Stephen C. Meyer explains that fine-tuning “refers to the discovery that many properties of the universe fall within extremely narrow and improbable ranges that turn out to be absolutely necessary for complex forms of life … to exist.”

Earth’s position in the solar system is in what scientists call the Goldilocks Zone, where it’s not too hot and not too cold.

It’s important to note that the term “fine-tuning” or “fine-tuned” is a neutral description that doesn’t imply the existence of God. It’s a designation routinely used by scientists and scholars of all stripes.

Although scientific findings are always provisional, it seems difficult to avoid the conclusion that an incredibly powerful and intelligent being designed our universe to support life.

In what follows, we’ll look at the scientific credibility of fine-tuning, specific examples, possible explanations for it, and some objections to it. Fine-tuning is not surprising if Christianity is true, since God intended to create human and animal life (Genesis 1), but it is surprising in the case of naturalism, where it appears to be an astounding coincidence.

Believe the science

One will occasionally meet skeptics who believe fine-tuning is an idea invented by Christians but not taken seriously by scientists. This is a misconception, to say the least. Consider the following testimony:

Agnostic physicist Sir Fred Hoyle: “A common sense interpretation of the facts suggests that a super intellect has monkeyed with physics, as well as with chemistry and biology, and that there are no blind forces worth speaking about in nature.”Atheist physicist Stephen Hawking: “The remarkable fact is that the values of these numbers seem to have been very finely adjusted to make possible the development of life.”Agnostic physicist Paul Davies: “The entire universe is balanced on a knife-edge, and would be total chaos if any of the natural ‘constants’ were off even slightly.” “On the face of it, the universe does look as if it has been designed by an intelligent creator expressly for the purpose of spawning sentient beings.”Atheist physicist Steven Weinberg: “Life as we know it would be impossible if any one of several physical quantities had slightly different values.”

It’s notable that cosmic fine-tuning was one of the reasons the distinguished atheist thinker Antony Flew changed his mind about God’s existence, as recounted in his 2007 book “There Is a God: How the World’s Most Notorious Atheist Changed His Mind.”

Against all odds?

Philosopher Robin Collins points out, “If the initial explosion of the big bang had differed in strength by as little as one part in 1060 [i.e., 1 followed by 60 zeros], the universe would have either quickly collapsed back on itself, or expanded too rapidly for stars to form. In either case, life would be impossible.”

This is a mind-boggling number. Collins likens this improbability to “firing a bullet at a one-inch target on the other side of the observable universe, twenty billion light years away, and hitting the target.”

He also observes that “if gravity had been stronger or weaker by one part in 1040, then life-sustaining stars like the sun could not exist.”

If gravity were slightly stronger, stars would burn out in millions, rather than billions, of years (our sun is about 4.6 billion years old). If gravity were slightly weaker, most stars would never form at all — or would be too small and cold.

Oxford mathematician and philosopher John Lennox helps us understand this vast improbability as follows:

Cover America with coins in a column reaching to the moon (380,000 km or 236,000 miles away), then do the same for a billion other continents of the same size. Paint one coin red and put it somewhere in one of the billion piles. Blindfold a friend and ask her to pick it out. The odds are about 1 in 1040 that she will.

A little closer to home, Earth’s position in the solar system is in what scientists call the Goldilocks Zone, where it’s not too hot and not too cold, allowing for liquid water to exist on its surface. The size of Earth also ensures that it has the right gravity to retain an atmosphere suitable for life without being too strong to inhibit the mobility of organisms.

Many other examples could be cited, but these illustrate the almost inconceivable odds against a life-permitting universe and Earth.

By design

These numbers are so surprising that they call out for an explanation, and there seem to be only three options: physical necessity, chance, or design.

Regarding physical necessity — that the universe had to have the properties that it does — there are no good reasons to believe this. As far as scientists can tell, the universe could have had a vast range of different laws, constants, and qualities.

To cite Davies again, “There is not a shred of evidence that the [parameters of our] universe [are] logically necessary. Indeed, as a theoretical physicist I find it rather easy to imagine alternative universes that are logically consistent, and therefore equal contenders for reality.”

Regarding chance, we saw earlier how incredibly unlikely it is that any possible universe would support life. When you combine the improbabilities of all the fine-tuned parameters together, the odds against life become overwhelming. The one remaining option is design. All our experience tells us that only rational agents design things, and thus a cosmic designer is the best explanation for the universe’s fine-tuning.

Multiverse muddle

Space prohibits an extended discussion of objections to fine-tuning. I’ll briefly address two that are frequently mentioned.

The first is known as the weak anthropic principle, raised by physicist Martin Rees, among others: “Some would argue that this fine-tuning of the universe, which seems so providential, is nothing to be surprised about, since we could not exist otherwise.”

Thus, we should not be surprised that the universe is fine-tuned for life, since we are here observing that it is. But as philosopher Douglas Groothuis points out, this confuses two related but distinct ideas: 1) the truism that we couldn’t observe anything unless the universe was life-permitting and 2) an explanation of why the universe is so finely tuned. Acknowledging the first observation doesn’t negate the need to explain why, against all odds, our universe is life-permitting.

Second, some thinkers appeal to the idea of a multiverse to explain fine-tuning. If billions, or even an infinite number, of other universes exist, one of those universes will inevitably permit life. We happen to be in the lucky universe that does.

God is in the details

There is no experimental evidence, however, that a multiverse exists, and some see it as an ad hoc proposal to avoid the theistic implications of fine-tuning. As physicist John Polkinghorne writes, “Let us recognize these speculations for what they are. They are not physics, but in the strictest sense, metaphysics. There is no purely scientific reason to believe in an ensemble of universes.”

While the multiverse hypothesis is complex, ad hoc, and lacks evidence, the design hypothesis is simple (one Creator) and, as noted earlier, draws on our universal experience that only minds design things.

Thus, fine-tuning provides compelling evidence that God exists and intended to create living beings. And this sounds very much like the kind of God we find described in Genesis — one who, from the beginning, “created the heavens and the earth” and declared his creation “very good” (Genesis 1:1, 31).

A version of this essay originally appeared on the Worldview Bulletin Newsletter.

​Intelligent design, Stephen hawking, Creationism, Big bang, Atheism, Fred hoyle, Science, Philosophy, God, Christianity, Apologetics, Faith 

Kemi Badenoch — Conservative Party leader, survivor of the 2024 electoral rout, and arguably the sharpest political mind left in British conservatism — is considering a ban on the burqa as part of a broader review of Islamist extremism.

She should stop considering and start legislating.

‘Freedom’ that produces permanent public anonymity for one group, in spaces where no one else enjoys it, is not freedom’s finest hour.

The case does not begin with Badenoch, and it does not end in Westminster. Across six European democracies — Austria, Belgium, France, the Netherlands, Portugal, and Switzerland — full or partial bans are already law.

Their constitutions survive. Their Muslim populations remain. The predicted social cataclysm never arrived.

What arrived instead was policy — enforced and producing measurable outcomes.

Facing facts

The deeper question is why the rest of the Western world has been so slow, so squeamish, to reckon with what the burqa actually does in public space.

Full facial concealment — not the hijab, not the headscarf, but the garment that renders a woman’s face entirely invisible — removes her from the basic grammar of human interaction. Faces carry trust, intention, fear, and consent. Humans have read them for a hundred thousand years, and no amount of progressive goodwill has updated the firmware.

When you cannot see someone’s face, you cannot treat the person as a fully present participant in civic life. You can only treat the person as a shape moving through it.

Free societies depend on legibility among their members. Not total transparency — nobody is proposing to ban sunglasses or launch inquiries into wide-brimmed hats — but the basic mutual visibility that public life requires.

Courts require faces. Banks require faces. Polling stations, airports, and schools all require faces. Nobody marches on these institutions screaming tyranny.

Anonymity in shared space has always carried costs, and open societies have never been shy about saying so.

The burqa asks for a permanent exemption from an obligation everyone else accepts without drama.

Enforced invisibility

That exemption makes a certain grim sense in Afghanistan, where the Taliban reinstated the burqa as compulsory law in 2022 — a country where female faces are treated as a political problem requiring a legislative solution. In that context, the garment is a uniform of erasure, imposed top-down by men who find women’s faces inconvenient.

Which makes its romantic defense in the West, as an expression of individual freedom, not just ironic but absurd. The symbol of enforced invisibility does not become an emblem of liberation simply by crossing a border.

The First Amendment crowd — loudest in America, with philosophical cousins across the Atlantic — will say that mandating what a woman removes from her face differs not at all from mandating what she puts on it.

The argument does not survive contact with consistency.

Masks off

Masks at protests are already banned in multiple jurisdictions. Religious exemptions from generally applicable laws have limits even under the most robust free-exercise jurisprudence. The Supreme Court has never held that faith confers a blanket right to opt out of civic norms that apply to everyone else.

Employment Division v. Smith settled that much in 1990, and the decades since have not reversed the principle that neutral, generally applicable laws can coexist with religious freedom without apology.

A ban on full facial concealment in public spaces would likely qualify.

“Freedom” that produces permanent public anonymity for one group, in spaces where no one else enjoys it, is not freedom’s finest hour.

Female agency is the argument’s most seductive register. She chooses this. She owns it. Perhaps. But agency exercised under doctrinal pressure, familial expectation, or community sanction has a habit of resembling choice from a distance.

RELATED: Syria’s Bloody Crescent

Mike Mercury

Feminist exception

Western feminism spent decades insisting that personal preference does not close the conversation when that preference is shaped by systems that constrain what preference can look like. That reasoning dismantled arguments about beauty standards and industries far less coercive than religious orthodoxy.

Applied here — to a garment entire governments have made compulsory — the same movement suddenly finds the question too delicate to pursue.

None of this requires hostility to Islam, to faith, or to religious expression broadly understood.

The headscarf is not the burqa. Private devotion is not public concealment.

People are entitled to their beliefs, entitled to wear almost anything behind their own doors, entitled to worship as conscience directs.

But public space is shared space, and shared space carries shared obligations.

Turning your face away from those obligations — permanently, behind fabric, as a matter of principle — is less religious liberty than a form of civic withdrawal.

There is a meaningful distance between religious expression and civic withdrawal. The burqa travels the full length of it.

Open society? Closed case

British polling puts support for a ban at 56%. For once, democratic instinct and reasoned argument are pulling in the same direction — not always a luxury policymakers enjoy.

In America, a federal ban would face genuine First Amendment scrutiny. The constitutional architecture differs, the judicial culture differs, the politics differ enormously.

But “legally complicated” and “morally unclear” are not synonyms.

Many Americans who correctly distrust government overreach have no difficulty concluding that facial concealment in courtrooms, classrooms, and government offices warrants regulation.

The legal pathway varies by country. The underlying social logic does not.

The burqa is not compatible with open societies. The only remaining question is how long open societies intend to pretend otherwise.

​Letter from the uk, Islam, Burqa ban, Burqa, Afghanistan, Taliban, First amendment, Lifestyle, Culture, Faith