Paul D. Miller is a Georgetown University professor, a former Bush-era national security official, and one of those self-appointed guardians of “respectable” religion who enjoys lecturing not just his students but half of America. Miller’s latest essay published in the Dispatch is an extraordinary act of pious snobbery — a lab-grown blend of theology, therapy, and think-tank sanctimony.

He calls it an exploration of “MAGA Christianity.” In truth, it’s a sermon against Christians who dare to think, vote, or worship outside the polite confines of Beltway belief.

The irony is exquisite: a man preaching humility while presuming to judge the eternal destiny of half the Christian electorate.

Miller’s starting point is as cynical as it is tasteless: He uses Charlie Kirk’s memorial — a moment of collective grief — as the courtroom to indict millions of fellow believers. He admits that the event was both a Christian service and, in his words, a “state funeral,” yet he somehow interprets that duality as corruption.

To turn a mourning congregation into evidence for a political thesis is not discernment but desecration.

From there, his argument collapses under the weight of its own conceit. Miller insists that “MAGA Christianity” is a deviant strain of faith — emotional, populist, and unmoored from doctrine. His proof? None. He offers no creeds, no sermons, no teachings that contradict scripture.

He merely declares, with professorial confidence, that it looks “a lot like historic Christianity” but “departs from it in important ways.” Which ways? He never bothers to say.

It’s a masterpiece of insinuation — assert first, define never.

He even attempts an ecclesiastical census, claiming Southern Baptists rarely attend Trump rallies and that Reformed Christians fall outside the MAGA mold. The statement is so bizarre it reads like satire. Millions of evangelicals who pray, tithe, and read their Bibles daily have supported Trump not out of idolatry but conviction — because they see in his policies a defense of life, liberty, and the family.

Yet to Miller, they are theological tourists, emotional rubes cheering a false gospel.

RELATED: Charlie Kirk’s death revealed the kingdoms colliding in America

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What Miller calls “anti-elitist” is, in fact, fidelity to the biblical principle that truth is not confined to temples of power. Christ did not recruit His disciples from the upper crust of Roman bureaucracy. He chose fishermen, tax collectors, and outcasts — the same kind of people Miller treats with sociological suspicion. And his horror at the “bottom-up” nature of MAGA Christianity betrays the real heresy at work: the worship of hierarchy.

For Miller, holiness lives in the ivory tower. For MAGA Christians, it still lives in the heart.

There’s also the matter of credentials. By his own admission, Miller is a political scientist, not a theologian. Yet here he is, parsing scripture like a prophet and warning millions that their souls are in peril. One almost expects footnotes to include “peer-reviewed visions.” He quotes Matthew 7:21-23 — “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord’…” — as if it were aimed at Republican voters.

In doing so, he twists a warning against hypocrisy into a cudgel against patriotism. The irony is exquisite: a man preaching humility while presuming to judge the eternal destiny of half the Christian electorate.

Miller’s great mistake is his failure to grasp that Christianity and citizenship are not enemies.

American Christians understand that their faith shapes their politics because their politics shape the moral order in which faith survives. To pray for righteous leadership is not “lawlessness” but obedience. To fight for the unborn, defend the family, and resist the creeping godlessness of government is not vengeance but virtue. Miller cannot see this because he’s too drunk on his own self-importance.

The truth is simple: MAGA Christianity, as he sneeringly calls it, is nothing more than Christianity that refuses to be bullied.

His disdain for “emotion” is equally misplaced. Scripture is not a spreadsheet. Christ wept, rejoiced, and raged. The Psalms are nothing but emotion sanctified into song. Yet Miller treats passion as proof of poison, as though the only acceptable Christian is one anesthetized by nuance. His theology is cold oatmeal — gray, tasteless, and best left untouched.

What’s most galling is his casual dismissal of millions of believers who have thought deeply about the intersection of faith and politics. These Christians are not mindless zealots. They are men and women who have grappled with conscience, scripture, and civic duty. They’ve endured scorn from the press, mockery from academia, and condescension from precisely the sort of clerical technocrats Miller represents.

To suggest they are not truly Christian is to bear false witness on a national scale.

The truth is simple: MAGA Christianity, as he sneeringly calls it, is nothing more than Christianity that refuses to be bullied.

It’s the faith of people who believe morality is not negotiable, borders are not blasphemy, and the flag can be honored without idolatry. It’s the faith that built churches, schools, and communities, while the mainline denominations he venerates bend over backward in search of social approval.

Miller’s essay, then, is not a defense of the gospel but of the establishment. He frets that the “Radical Reformation” spirit has become too powerful when, in reality, it’s the only thing keeping Christianity alive in a culture hell-bent on its erasure. His real quarrel isn’t with President Trump, Charlie Kirk, Jack Posobiec — whom he dismisses as a fabricator and charlatan — but with any Christian who refuses to ask his permission to live faithfully.

In the end, Miller proves his own point unintentionally.

He accuses MAGA Christians of arrogance, yet his entire essay drips with it. He warns against false teachers while setting himself up as one. And he preaches humility from a pulpit of self-regard, confusing his contempt for clarity. The faithful he mocks will go on praying. They’ll keep voting and building families while his essays gather dust in the archives of complete irrelevance.

Because in the end, the difference is simple: He writes about Christianity — but they live it out.

​Christianity, Christian, Maga christianity, Maga, The dispatch, Donald trump, Faith 

Hackers have found another way into your car’s computer system: where the rubber meets the road.

Thanks to the TREAD Act, every new car since 2008 comes with a tire pressure monitoring system. It’s what turns on that annoying low-pressure light we’re all familiar with. By monitoring the the air pressure of each tire and alerting the driver when the pressure falls below a certain threshold, you car’s TPMS makes you safer. It also makes you a bigger target for hackers.

TPMS hackers could gain access to other systems within the vehicle, such as the engine or brakes, leading to complete control of the vehicle.

The problem is that TPMS uses unencrypted radio frequencies for the communication between the tire and the receiver. Hackers can “spoof” these signals, allowing them to send false data to the vehicle’s computer, such as indicating that the tire pressure is higher or lower than it actually is.

Takeover

Big deal. You can hack my car and turn on my little pressure light? Annoying, sure. I didn’t think I cared until I learned that your TPMS radio frequency receiver is hooked directly into the car’s ECU — the computer that controls everything from fuel injection to exhaust, fuel mix, electricity, engine stats, timing, electric car driveability, and more

What’s more, this RF receiver is usually the same receiver that talks to your remote key fob to open the doors and disarm your security system.

RELATED: Could a hacker blow up your EV remotely?

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Compromised safety

So what exactly could a hacker do via your TPMS? More than you might expect.

TPMS hacking can:

Compromise the safety of the vehicle by causing incorrect tire pressure readings, which can lead to accidents or tire blowouts.Capture data about the vehicle, such as its location and driving habits.Gain access to other systems within the vehicle, such as the engine or brakes, leading to complete control of the vehicle.

Gauging the risk

So what can you do to keep hackers out? You should be as cautious of your car’s security as you are of public Wi-Fi and keep your vehicle’s software up to date. Additionally, be wary of any attempts to physically tamper with your TPMS sensors.

And it can’t hurt to have your own dial or digital pressure gauge. If that tire pressure light kicks on and your tires seem fine, check the pressure against the number inside the driver’s door. If it it’s fine, it could be a sign that your TPMS has been compromised.

Someone hacking into your car this way is unlikely, but if it does happen, it could be a disaster. As vehicles become more connected and rely more on electronic systems, this and other cybersecurity issues are something to keep an eye on.

​Tire pressure monitor system, Tpms, Hackers, Lifestyle, Cybersecurity, Align cars 

When Charlie Kirk was brutally martyred last month, I was only about a month postpartum. The news hit me like a freight train. That night, I woke up repeatedly, not to feed my baby, but because my heart was pounding. I kept asking myself, “Is this real? Is he really gone?”

Like so many others, I was shaken — stunned, unsettled, and deeply disturbed. As a mom, all I could think about was his wife, Erika, and two children left behind to pick up the pieces. Charlie’s legacy lives on, and his death has ignited a fire in a hopeless world. His impact has rippled across the nation and the globe — especially in the younger generation.

We’re not just raising kids. We’re training warriors for a fight that’s already begun.

I’ve always resolved to raise strong children, those who love God, love others, and courageously stand for truth. That conviction has only deepened. As a mom now of two littles — a toddler son and a newborn girl — I’m determined to do my part in raising the next generation to be like Charlie Kirk.

I’m more emboldened, unwavering, and unapologetic in that calling — and I want to encourage others to stand just as firmly.

The culture war is here

When the Israelites were exiled to Babylon, captives in a godless country, the prophet Jeremiah told them to seek the “welfare” of the city. He said, “For in its welfare you will find your welfare” (Jeremiah 29:7). The Hebrew word for “welfare” is shalom, meaning peace, wholeness, or flourishing.

Though devastated and disoriented, the Jewish exiles were charged to build homes, plant gardens, raise families, and pray for the peace and prosperity of the very nation that had conquered them. For 70 years, they were to live as a distinct people in a foreign land — engaged, not removed — trusting that God’s purposes extended even into exile.

If they were called to bless a wicked nation that wasn’t their own, how much more should we, living in the freest country in the world, rise to that responsibility?

It starts in the home; it starts with us. The Jewish exiles were called to have families and raise godly children, and so are we. We’re in a culture war — no matter how we feel about it or whether we like it.

As parents, we hold a sacred and irreplaceable role in shaping the hearts and minds of our children — future leaders who will either transform the culture or be shaped by it.

One day, our children may ask: “Where were you when they were killing innocent babies? Where were you when boys were allowed in girls’ locker rooms? Where were you when the truth was under attack?”

What will we say?

Scripture is clear: We are called to teach and train the next generation. We weren’t made to sit passively on the sidelines while the world unravels. Comfort, complacency, and silence are not options in a culture that is increasingly hostile to truth. We have a weighty, joyful, and urgent responsibility to raise bold warriors for Christ.

Let’s raise children who are like sharpened arrows, aimed at the heart of the culture with courage, conviction, and clarity. But here’s the deal: We can’t call them to be what we’re not. We must be the bright lights first — refusing to cower in fear, shining truth into the darkest places.

Let’s raise them to stand — and let’s show them how.

Faith is the great stabilizer

Without faith, it’s impossible to please God, and it’s impossible to have a thriving society.

At Charlie’s memorial, pastor Rob McCoy said: “Charlie looked at politics as an on-ramp to Jesus. He knew if he could get all of you rowing in the streams of liberty, you’d come to its source, and that’s the Lord.”

It’s all about God.

Our priorities must always be clear: Faith, family, and freedom — in that order.

RELATED: Meek, not weak: The era of Christian loserdom is over

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Jesus calls us to be salt and light in a dark and decaying world. Salt doesn’t just give flavor, but it preserves, purifies, and sustains. Jesus warned, “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot” (Matthew 5:13).

We are at a crossroads. We can either stay silent — choosing comfort and curated lives on the sidelines — or we can engage, stand firm, and live out our faith with boldness and conviction. Because if we don’t show up, our freedoms will quietly disappear, and so will the future we hope to hand our children.

Where do we start?

For me, part of that answer has come through the example of my friend Katy Faust, founder of Them Before Us. Her clarity, courage, and commitment to truth have shaped the way I approach parenting and cultural engagement. She speaks boldly on the issues others avoid and models the kind of conviction I hope to carry into every stage of motherhood.

Her book “Raising Conservative Kids in a Woke City” is a must-read for any parent navigating today’s cultural landscape.

One of its most powerful takeaways is her challenge to parents: Know your stuff, study the issues of the day, understand the world your kids are growing up in, and, most importantly, know your Bible deeply and thoroughly.

Charlie Kirk’s assassination wasn’t an isolated tragedy but a symptom of something deeper: a cultural war rooted in the rejection of God and biblical truth. And the only way we fight back is by getting our own houses in order.

That means:

God first. Family second. Country third. In that order!Making our homes fortresses of faith and places of refuge.Knowing the Word. Studying the issues. Teaching our children.Modeling the courage we want to see in them — starting with what may seem like the “small” things, such as refusing to affirm falsehoods by using preferred pronouns that contradict biological reality.

We’re not just raising kids. We’re training warriors for a fight that’s already begun.

The moment demands courage

When my son was growing in my womb just over two and a half years ago, I often thought, “He’s going to be a world-changer.” That’s our prayer as parents — not just to raise good kids, but to raise world-changers and strong leaders.

But the truth is: Leaders aren’t born — they’re forged.

Charlie Kirk was forged by fire. Tested, tried, and unwavering, he stood for truth when it cost him everything. He was bold. He was brave. And he refused to back down. Characteristics I want to see in my kids as we train them.

Now it’s our turn, not just to admire that kind of courage, but to cultivate it in our children.

Here’s where we start: Lead by example. Let them see you live with conviction. Take them to church. Root them in eternal truth. Teach them what’s true — and how to stand for it. Help them think critically and speak clearly. Show them how to live courageously in a world that fears truth.

In 1 Peter 3:15, the apostle Peter exhorts believers to “always be prepared to give a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you” with “gentleness and respect.” This isn’t optional. It’s a call to know what we believe, why we believe it, and how to communicate it thoughtfully and confidently.

If we want to make an impact, being believers that obey God’s commands, this means we must dive deep into the scriptures, study apologetics, and understand the cultural issues of our time through a biblical lens.

If we want to raise warriors, we must be warriors. Raising the next generation of leaders begins with intentional, everyday decisions — in the home, at the dinner table, and in how we respond to the culture around us.

The battle isn’t coming — it’s already here.

​Bible, Children, Christian, Christianity, Culture war, God, Jesus, Parents, Faith