James Talarico, a Democratic Texas state representative, former teacher, and Presbyterian seminarian, is the Democratic nominee facing Republican Ken Paxton in the competitive 2026 U.S. Senate race in Texas.

Talarico’s campaign is built heavily on his “Christian” faith, which he uses to justify abortion, the LGBTQ+ agenda, and other progressive causes, leading many conservatives to call him a heretic, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and a blasphemer.

BlazeTV’s Sara Gonzales is one of the loudest voices warning that Talarico would be a curse on the state of Texas. On this episode of “Come and Take It,” Sara unveils three disturbing facts about the Scripture-twisting seminarian’s church — St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church in Austin, Texas.

1. ‘Christ-centered’ … but open to ‘all religions’: St. Andrew’s shocking statement of faith

On the FAQ page under the section “What does this church believe,” St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church’s website reads:

We are Presbyterian, yet our first allegiance is to Christ’s gospel of universal love. We are Christ centered, yet we respect and learn from all religions of love. We affirm the ancient symbols of our faith, yet we strive to speak a new language that includes all people and affirms the scientific discoveries of our day. We hope to teach children the stories of the Bible without sectarian dogma. We strive to be a close, nurturing community, yet we welcome all people into our midst. We wish to live in inner peace, yet hear God’s call to work for peace and for universal human rights. We take faith seriously, yet believe the journey should be fun. We celebrate life in many artistic forms.

“So, not a Christian church at all,” Sara says, calling it a “fun club.”

2. Proudly ‘out’ lesbian chaplain: The reverend on staff at Talarico’s church

One of the reverends on staff is a lesbian woman named Babs Miller. Her profile on the website reads, “I was finally ordained here in 2014, 24 years after I graduated from seminary, as an ‘out’ lesbian chaplain.”

“That’s how you know that this is not a real church, is when they have a pastor who’s like, ‘I’m living in sin, yeah. Come to our church. … I’m going to preach to you about God’s word while I’m not following it in my daily life and bragging about it,” Sara scoffs.

3. ‘Safe haven’ for porn? Sexually graphic books found in St. Andrew’s kids’ library

“At St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, at their church library — where children allegedly are allowed to just roam, hang out — are sexually explicit books,” Sara says.

According to the church’s website, the library features “over 1,300 books ranging from topics in history to social justice to Christianity and world religions.” This includes a banned book section, described as “a safe haven for stories from a variety of life experiences and viewpoints.”

“Much like the Bible, recorded histories of people’s lives are not pornography. Using that word for LGBTQ+ stories or other hard topics is a political tactic, not an honest description,” the website reads.

But Sara disputes this claim, noting that the library catalog features numerous pornographic books, including “All Boys Aren’t Blue” by George M. Johnson, which contains graphic depictions of rape and incest, and “This Book Is Gay” by Juno Dawson — a book that’s been widely banned in public schools for its graphic depictions of the “ins and outs of gay sex.”

Other controversial titles include “Trans Kids, Our Kids: Stories and Resources from the Frontlines of the Movement for Transgender Youth,” “Called OUT: The Voices and Gifts of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgendered Presbyterians,” “Becoming Nicole: The Inspiring Story of Transgender Actor-Activist Nicole Maines and Her Extraordinary Family,” and the graphic novel “Gender Queer” (one of the most banned books in the country for its sexually explicit illustrations).

“If this is in a church library — not just accessible to adults who are allegedly trying to practice Christianity, but also, like, able to be viewed by children, by minors — what won’t this church do?” Sara asks. “I mean, this is demonic, to say the least.”

To hear more, watch the full episode above.

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To enjoy more of Sara’s no-holds-barred takes on news and culture, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution, and live the American dream.

​Come and take it, Come and take it with sara gonzales, Austin texas, James talarico, Presbyterian church 

When I heard that a black female Howard University professor of “communication” had written a Substack piece supporting accused murderer Karmelo Anthony and attacking the victim’s family, I was not surprised.

I regularly research this genre of racialist academia, much of it grounded in grievance, paranoia, and moral inversion. So I reviewed my personal library of pseudo-academic studies for what I already knew I would find about the author.

Con men and grifters have more than their share of psychopaths. Unfortunately, this kind of behavior appears more frequently among academics than is comfortable.

Sure enough, there she was: Dr. Stacey Patton, a prolific spinner of race-driven commentary who monetizes narcissism and paranoia for a rarefied audience.

Patton is typical of blindered black academics who contribute to the myth of ubiquitous black oppression in American society, a myth that now boasts its own literature. Much of systematized black academia has long been characterized by racial paranoia and self-regarding grievance.

This creates a paradox on campus. Mental illness in higher education is rarely identified and treated. Instead, institutions often nurture and encourage various maladies, even celebrating “neurodiversity,” especially when it serves ideology. At the extreme, grievance-studies enclaves become magnets for the like-minded, creating self-sealing provincial communities where paranoia and narcissism harden into conspiracy theory.

Consider Patton.

She contributed to “Presumed Incompetent II,” a key text in the canon of “poor me” paranoia and grandiose narcissism. Her chapter is titled “Why I clap back against racist trolls who attack black women academics.” This is classic main-character narcissism. Yet in its biography of Patton, Howard University modifies the chapter title, perhaps to make it sound more academic: “How Right-Wing Media Outlets Are Fighting Real Diversity in Academe.”

For narcissistic academics like Patton, reality can be edited as part of the self-regarding method. If needed, they can simply make it up.

Patton is hardly alone. The racialist canon contains countless articles and books with titles such as “Racial Battle Fatigue in Higher Education,” “Racial Battle Fatigue,” “Racial Battle Fatigue in Faculty,” “Black Fatigue,” and “Toxic Ivory Towers.” Patton, a “communication” professor and self-described historian, is an active participant in this paranoid fantasy. She defends her racialism this way:

Can you imagine people saying that a cancer researcher focuses too much on cancer? Or how about a climate scientist is suspiciously obsessed with climate? How about somebody saying a theologian keeps bringing up god? They wouldn’t. But when Black scholars study race, suddenly our expertise is some kind of pathology.

RELATED: Howard University professor’s wild take: Austin Metcalf’s dad is the real villain

Claudio Caridi/iStock/Getty Images

Genuine scientists are questioned all the time, and they are held to strict standards of method. Patton is not. The chief difference is that she has no discernible expertise unless she claims “identity” itself as expertise. The entire genre of narcissistic racialism rests on confirmation bias, selection bias, erasure of the distinction between fact and fiction, Orwellian manipulation of language, made-up “composite stories,” postmodern relativity of truth, outright fables, and rescue hypotheses designed to protect racialism from disconfirmation.

Most troubling, these dysfunctions are rooted in codified paranoia — the core of the racialist myth.

In Patton’s Substack piece attacking the father of murder victim Austin Metcalf, she distinguishes herself as a purveyor of communal narcissism. The piece is nominally about Karmelo Anthony. In reality, it is another exculpatory exercise for bad behavior.

She writes from the ideological hotbox known as Howard University, where the maladies of “poor me paranoia” and grandiose narcissism find a distinct genre of faux scholarship, especially among black female academics.

Howard has become a sort of academic “Love Boat,” the final destination for fading intellectual celebrities who could not survive in the world of rigorous scholarship and sharp criticism. It is the last stop for Nikole Hannah-Jones of the error-riddled 1619 Project; Ibram X. Kendi, scandal-plagued author of “How to Be an Antiracist” and failed director of Boston University’s Center for Antiracist Research; and Ta-Nehisi Coates, author of multiple empty autobiographical meditations on an unaccomplished life.

So no one should be surprised that a purveyor of paranoia plies her trade there. Howard offers a communal home for professionalized narcissism, and the symptoms are obvious to anyone willing to look.

One of those symptoms is “virtuous victimhood,” in which people story-tell themselves into victim status, blame others, then seek compensation or “reparations” for their declared victimhood. I have written extensively on this psychological phenomenon. It is the de facto resource-extraction strategy for the diversity, equity, and inclusion movement, which I explore in “DEI Exposed: How the Biggest Con of the Century Almost Toppled Higher Education.”

Con men and grifters have more than their share of psychopaths. Unfortunately, this kind of behavior appears more frequently among academics than is comfortable.

The campus provides a kind of microbiology lab where mental illness can worsen, not encumbered by healthy introspection and certainly not by medical treatment. Here I refer specifically to the maladies of “poor me” paranoia and narcissistic personality disorder. Racialist oppression studies are grounded in both.

By “racialist,” I do not mean “racist” in the common sense, but rather in the neutral sense used by W.E.B. Du Bois. Racialists are consumed by race as the single explanatory factor and conduct their lives inside a race-driven fantasy. They view the world exclusively through the “lens” of race. When someone uses the term “racial lens” or “lens of race,” know that he is engaged in a resource-extraction con.

Patton monetizes her red-meat racialism on Substack, addressing a paid audience — a morally vacant fringe of black America, along with guilty white liberals — that is troubled, paranoid, easily duped, and easily led by grifters. The audience for this racialist niche literature is large enough for a quasi-academic to earn a good living. University of Pennsylvania professor John L. Jackson described this credulous audience in “Racial Paranoia.” Jackson, to his credit, survived Howard with his integrity intact.

RELATED: America is done buying bogus racial alibis

This does not mean racialists such as Patton lack passion, sincerity, intellect, or certitude. Of course they marshal facts, though often interspersed with claims that are doubtful at best and fabricated at worst. Evangelists for cults and extremist movements also exude passion, sincerity, charisma, and certainty. They weave fantasy and fact until the two become indistinguishable.

As I explain in “DEI Exposed”:

The technique appears to be to simply fabricate something, the more ambitiously egregious the better, to pass it off as fact, and then to circulate it with bluster, bluff, and zeal. It demonstrates the power of paranoid thought and action and repetition to achieve legitimacy as a ritualized “truth.”

Racialists are passionate about their faith-based ideology. Many are skilled persuaders. Some are talented tale-spinners. Others are crusaders with a burning sense of conviction.

That energy drives the racially aggrieved in academia — the vignettes, scenarios, composite stories, fables, and tales built around the assumption that whatever happens must be explained through the magical reality of paranoid ideology. The conclusion is predetermined.

As one passage from the academic literature puts it:

So long as the poor-me paranoid can maintain her strategy, she will retain a high self-esteem. She will be motivated to go to great extremes to maintain this — inventing the evidence, or concretizing ambiguous comments, expressing her beliefs in terms of absolute certainty, and, most of all, amplifying the enormity of the conspiracy against her, as would be warranted to persecute an immense talent.

Subclinical paranoia and narcissistic personality disorder provide the evaluative framework for this extremist slice of academia, whose growth accelerated after the Black Lives Matter riots of 2020. Unfortunately, a subset of black America, supported by “bad me paranoid” white liberals, buys into the infantilizing fantasy. In that fantasy, the faux persecuted are always absolved of responsibility, and a racialist enemy is always available to blame, no matter how tortured the explanation.

In 2026, however, we see signs of sobriety. Academia is growing less tolerant of dubious provincialism, and society is growing less tolerant of consequence-free violent behavior, even as Patton and her compatriots attempt to legitimize the murderous violence of Karmelo Anthony. Because of Patton and her ilk, we may see many more Karmelo Anthonys sacrificed before this tendency is reversed.

Stacey Patton and the racialist clique would do better to sound a warning than to cheer on racially justified violence that brings disastrous legal consequences and appropriate punishment. Patton’s next book is due in October and, of course, has a racialist theme: “Strung Up: How White America Learned to Lynch Black Children.” We shall see what she says.

I am not optimistic. The monetization of psychopathy is not easily remedied, especially when lavishly compensated careers depend on it.

​Opinion & analysis, Black lives matter, Karmelo anthony, Stacey patton, Howard university, Racialism, W.e.b. dubois, Racism, Ibram x. kendi, Diversity equity inclusion, Nikole hannah-jones, Ta-nehisi coates 

Every summer, we get to celebrate the first love of every girl: her father. Before she knows what love is, before she has language for it, a daughter is learning it from him. The way he looks at her. The way he stays. The way he shows up on the hard days and the ordinary ones.

Long before she sits in a pew and hears about a God who is steadfast and faithful, she has already been given a picture of what that looks like — or she hasn’t. The difference between those two things will follow her for the rest of her life.

That steady, faithful presence inspired something in me that his illness could not take from him.

Living standard

The role of fatherhood, particularly to daughters, is one of the weightiest callings a man has. A father is his daughter’s first introduction to unconditional love, her first model of strength and gentleness working together. The world provides little girls with countless stories about knights in shining armor and perfectly orchestrated Hollywood romance. It is easy for those fictional portraits to slowly become the standard by which real love gets measured.

But a dad has a more powerful opportunity than any fairytale can offer. He can step into his daughter’s life as the living standard, the real man who shows her what it means to be fully known and fully cherished.

When she is old enough to hear that God loves her as a Father, she will reach for the nearest frame of reference she has. For better or worse, that frame is you, Dad.

Dad’s darling

I often think about my own dad, Norm Haverkos, who spent more than 40 years living with multiple sclerosis. By the time I was in grade school, he couldn’t walk without falling. Eventually, he couldn’t walk at all.

What he could do, and chose to do, every single day was show up. Growing up, I followed my dad around just to be near him. My sister would tease me about it and call me “Dad’s darling.” I never denied it. I was his love, and he was mine.

Despite his illness, my father never made it an excuse to step back from his duties to his children. Confined to a wheelchair, he still found ways to be present: in our garage workshop as we refinished antiques on winter afternoons, in the stands at whatever event we were part of, in the confusing seasons when I simply needed him nearby.

He refused to let his limitations hold him back. He was a tender shepherd to our family, guiding us not in the typical way the world portrays strength, but in a way that demonstrated faithfulness. A shepherd doesn’t lead from the front because he’s the strongest. He leads because he refuses to leave. That was Norm Haverkos. He led us, carried us, and loved us, despite his fleeting mortality.

RELATED: Bruce Willis, dementia, and my father

Jim Spellman/WireImage/Getty Images

The grace to guide

That steady, faithful presence inspired something in me that his illness could not take from him. He helped me understand a God who does not abandon His children when life gets difficult. Like any father, my dad was not perfect, but he was present. And in his presence, I found my worth. Eventually, I found my way to the One whose love my father’s had been pointing toward all along.

The weight of the calling each father carries is heavy. But each dad can be equipped with the grace to carry it. You do not have to be a perfect man to be a faithful one. You do not have to have all the answers or feel whole. If you haven’t given it your best yet, there is mercy and forgiveness to start fresh, and start today.

Sacred calling

Norm Haverkos was not flawless — not physically, not always emotionally — and yet the mark he left on my life ultimately shaped tens of thousands of girls I would go on to serve. That is the math of faithful fatherhood. It multiplies in ways you will never fully see.

To every father reading this: Your daughter is watching. She is learning who God is by watching who you are. She is building her worldview on the foundation of your presence in her life. That is a sacred calling, and it is not too late to honor it.

Be the kind of man she can’t help but follow around. Be the kind of man who makes her a darling, not of her father only, but of her Father in heaven.

​First-person, Faith, Family, God, Christian living, Multiple sclerosis, Christianity, Daughter, Father’s day 

To some in our modern society, the holiday celebrated on the third Sunday in June may seem archaic. Father’s Day may even invite calls to downplay or mock the role fathers play in our culture.

But the holiday provides important lessons in honor, respect, sacrifice, and long-term responsibility — lessons our 21st-century world badly needs to recover.

Father’s Day gives us an opportunity not only to recognize the imperfections of our earthly fathers, but also to honor and bless them in whatever small ways we can.

Consider the parable of the prodigal son, as Jesus recounts it in Luke’s Gospel. The younger son asks his father for his share of the inheritance, effectively seeking to end his relationship with the man who gave him life. Upon receiving his portion, he journeys to a foreign land and promptly squanders it in debauchery.

Our world provides far more opportunities for temptation than existed in the time of Christ, and many of them now sit in the palms of our hands. Social media, online gambling, pornography, and endless distraction are instantly available with a few clicks. Little wonder Western society seems more individualized and more alienated than ever.

Fathers, when they embrace their proper role, can stand against those prevailing currents. With God’s help, fathers can model upright living for their children and give them an example to follow.

As the head of a business founded by my parents half a century ago, I cannot thank my father enough for the lessons he gave my brothers and me. The Christmas I turned 13, he gave me a pocket-sized Bible. His note inside included these words: “The solutions to any problem are in this great book. Try to read a chapter each day of your life, and you will be happy.”

My father did not merely surrender his own life to Christ’s will. In his own way, he taught me to do the same — to pursue a personal relationship with God and try to align my life with God’s word. The way my father loved my mother and lived his faith helped shape me into the man, husband, father, and business leader I am today.

A culture that devalues fathers threatens to leave future generations without the broader perspective and discipline they need to flourish — inside the family home and in daily life with neighbors, friends, and co-workers.

In his letter to the early church in Ephesus, the apostle Paul reminds children to “honor your father and mother so that you may live long in the land.” By their nature, honor, respect, and obedience require sacrifice, traits our popular culture rarely celebrates.

RELATED: Want to leave a legacy for your kids? Focus on living like this.

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But I would not have done as well in my roles as a husband, father, and business leader without the discipline and values my father helped instill in me. Those life lessons extended far beyond the four walls of our family’s home and business.

Father’s Day gives us an opportunity not only to recognize the imperfections of our earthly fathers, but also to honor and bless them in whatever small ways we can. And for those of us who are fathers and grandfathers, it offers a chance to pass on the values our fathers — earthly and heavenly — have given us.

That may be the greatest inheritance we leave our children.

​Father’s day, Fatherhood, Family, Honor, Faith, Christianity, Opinion & analysis 

BlazeTV host Allie Beth Stuckey is celebrating a new chapter with the announcement that baby No. 4 is on the way — but alongside the exciting news, she has a message for Christian women who believe they need to live up to certain “myths” in order to fulfill their roles as women.

“One of the biggest myths in Christian womanhood,” she says is the “idea that one, biblical womanhood and so-called traditional womanhood or being a so-called tradwife are completely synonymous.”

The idea of a tradwife has been perpetuated endlessly on social media, where women portray themselves in long floral dresses and baking sourdough loaves.

“We’ve kind of conflated the trad-aesthetic — which is a social media trend for some people, I’m not saying it’s not genuine for many people — with being a biblical woman. And it’s not always the same thing,” Stuckey says.

Another myth of Christian womanhood is that your life does not begin as a woman until you get married and have children.

“My argument is not that those things cannot bring a level of fulfillment because they absolutely do. They’re good and wonderful blessings. The biggest earthly blessings I have in this life are my family, my husband, and my children,” she says.

“However, they are not the pinnacle of your fulfillment and satisfaction. Christ is, which means you can have that right now if you are a Christian, no matter what stage of life you’re in,” she says, pointing out that you can faithfully serve God from anywhere.

Another myth Stuckey sees infiltrating modern Christian women is what she calls “therapy culture,” which is essentially self-help language, self-affirmation messaging, inner-child therapy concepts, and therapeutic frameworks.

“Ultimately, I think all of these psychological ideas elevate the God of self rather than leading us to Christ and encouraging us towards self-denial,” she says.

While this modern therapy messaging encourages looking inward for happiness, Christianity says to look to Christ.

“Of course, that is true,” Stuckey says.

Want more from Allie Beth Stuckey?

To enjoy more of Allie’s upbeat and in-depth coverage of culture, news, and theology from a Christian, conservative perspective, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution, and live the American dream.

​Allie beth stuckey, Children, Christianity, Family, Husband, Marriage, Relatable, The bible, Tradwife, Relatable with allie beth stuckey 

In September 2025, Toyota officially opened Woven City at the foot of Mount Fuji: a development of streets and residents, robots and cameras, inventors and ordinary people arranged on land formerly occupied by a car factory. The company calls it a “living laboratory.” What Toyota has built is not quite a city and not quite an experiment. The city is a model, staged in domestic architecture, demonstrating that the most important question in technology right now is not whether artificial intelligence can write a poem or pass an examination, but whether it can carry a parcel, assist a frail body, and navigate a loading dock without killing anyone.

This arrangement is an example of what Japan has begun calling “physical AI.” The term has spread quickly. Two years ago, it appeared mainly in specialist papers. Today it is found in strategy documents, industrial policy, parliamentary testimony, and semiconductor planning. The government has formally pledged, through its Basic Policy on Economic and Fiscal Management, to formulate a strategy for robots equipped with AI and advanced semiconductors. The Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry illustrates the concept with a warehouse robot that maps its environment, chooses routes dynamically, avoids obstacles, and coordinates with other machines in real time. The Japan Science and Technology Agency’s research arm organizes the field around three directions: stronger task execution, better adaptability to diverse environments, and coexistence with humans.

Making machines more like bodies may be more consequential than making them more like minds.

There is a history to the choice of the word “coexistence.” Japan has been making robots for decades, and it has been making stories about robots for even longer. The mechanical dolls of the Edo period, the karakuri ningyo, were clockwork figures that concealed their mechanisms inside appealing social surfaces: a doll that served tea, another that fired an arrow. Japan has long cultivated a public culture in which mechanism and social performance are not antagonists. That inheritance runs through Astro Boy and Waseda University’s decades of humanoid research, through every official document that describes robots as a component of public welfare. When METI describes image sensors as the human eye of physical AI, it is drawing on a vocabulary assembled over centuries. Japan keeps remaking a robotics culture, and today’s discussion of physical AI is the latest round of creation.

The urgency, however, is contemporary and specific. Japan is aging at a rapid rate. Caregivers are scarce. Logistics workers are scarce. Regions outside the major cities are emptying. METI launched its RING Project in 2025 to eliminate regional labor shortages through robot deployment. A 2024 revision of government guidelines on long-term care technologies was framed around reducing caregiver burden and supporting elderly self-reliance. The delivery robots now permitted on public roads, under a 2023 legal change, are presented as a practical response to a known shortage.

The technical challenges are not simple. Robot foundation models cannot train on the open internet the way large language models do. Bodies encounter a world that resists transcription. NEDO, the government’s technology-development agency, notes that what is overwhelmingly lacking is data collected in the physical field. The AIROA consortium, established in December 2024, exists largely to build the data infrastructure for generative AI foundation models to work in robots at scale.

RELATED: Shadowy companies are selling access to your smart TV — and its data

JDawnInk/Getty Images

The stack that makes physical AI possible includes multimodal perception, state estimation, planning, control, feedback, safety, edge computing, and digital twins. Kajima and Preferred Networks’ navigation system for construction sites combines cameras, lidar, and inertial measurement to build maps of an environment that never stays the same from one shift to the next. Mujin’s architecture employs a digital twin running in continuous feedback with a physical warehouse, updating state, re-optimizing motion, and coordinating execution in something close to real time. Getting intelligence into bodies and those bodies into the world is a data-engineering problem of considerable difficulty.

Japan’s Moonshot Goal 3 sets a target of AI robots that allow more than 90% of people to feel comfortable with them by 2030. The target acknowledges that physical AI is, among other things, a social legitimacy problem. Waseda’s AIREC project, developing a care robot for household, welfare, and medical settings, is pointed at the hardest version of this problem: safe bodily interaction with vulnerable humans. The researchers describe tactile sensing, dressing assistance, attention mechanisms, and predictive learning for physical contact. Journalists who have visited the lab tend to describe the same scene: a robot trying to put a shirt on an elderly person without hurting him. That image is instructive; physical AI is most sensitive in close human interaction.

The rhetoric of Japan’s push rests on a claim of human augmentation rather than replacement, technology that reduces burden while preserving self-reliance. Nevertheless, the demographic crisis that makes robots attractive also makes the economics of replacement compelling. One-third of Japanese companies were already using or actively considering AI-powered robots by 2026, while researchers and trade journalists noted the intensifying competition from the United States and China in more autonomous, AI-enabled systems. Japan can use the language of augmentation for now. Whether it can continue to do so through demographic free fall and international competition is a different question.

The Japan Science and Technology Agency has noted that physical AI may address limits inherent in purely software-based intelligence. The assumption is that intelligence without a body is a specific and limited kind of intelligence. Once a system has to carry something, or navigate a construction site, or change an elderly person’s clothing, the problem of being in the world arises. Perception becomes active. Error has weight. Meaning is inseparable from situation. The Japanese know this. What is new is that the country is now wagering its industrial future on the proposition that making machines more like bodies may be more consequential than making them more like minds. At the foot of Mount Fuji, a living laboratory works to settle the bet.

​Tech 

Just because something sounds Christian doesn’t mean it necessarily is. Sometimes demonic forces masquerade as light and lurk unnoticed among believers.

On this episode of “Strange Encounters,” Rick Burgess warns Christians against a “spiritual counterfeit” that has already taken root in many modern churches: the Passion Translation.

The Passion Translation is a modern English paraphrase of the Bible created by former missionary Brian Simmons starting around 2012, with completion plans set for 2029. It aims to convey the “fiery passion” and emotional heart of God through dynamic, readable, heart-level language.

Rick argues that it is a dangerous pitfall.

“The more we researched this labor of love by Brian Simmons, the more my spirit was grieved and the more concern I began to have,” he says. “Here on ‘Strange Encounters,’ we absolutely believe with zero hesitation that the Passion Translation of the Bible is not of God. You need to get it out of your house if it’s in your house.”

His first qualm is that the Passion Translation calls itself a translation when it’s really a paraphrase. “It’s already being deceitful,” he warns.

His second issue is that “Brian Simmons has an egalitarian view of men and women in ministry and marriage,” meaning “he believes that men and women are interchangeable in the church and in marriage.”

Further, the Passion Translation, he argues, uses “hyper-charismatic” language that has “never been in Scripture.”

It was also not written by teams of scholars who can “check each other.” “Brian seems to be the sole translator here. He tries to act like there may be other people, but he never tells us who they are,” Rick says.

He accuses Simmons of being “deceitful” by using a later Syriac Bible version from 500 years after the Greek New Testament and falsely calling it the “original Aramaic,” making the Passion Translation “pure speculation” rather than a real translation.

But Rick’s number one issue with the Passion Translation is that it was supposedly inspired by a divine encounter. In 2009, Simmons claims that Jesus appeared to him and personally commissioned him to create the Passion Translation, promising to help him unlock secrets of the Hebrew language and give him supernatural downloads of revelation for the project, which supposedly included visits from an angel.

“We’re to believe that all those who translated the Bible into English correctly — none of them got it right? And some guy named Brian Simmons was deemed so valuable by God that Jesus went to visit him, touched his forehead, enlarged his brain so he could translate the Bible correctly for us?” Rick asks skeptically.

“He might have been visited by a supernatural being, but it wasn’t Jesus and it wasn’t an angel, and I have zero problem saying that and saying that boldly,” he declares.

What Simmons has done, Rick argues, is create a faulty version of Scripture that is appealing because it “makes people feel good.” But this is “incredibly dangerous” because “the Scriptures itself tells us never trust your feelings,” he says.

“This is why it’s so dangerous.”

To hear more, watch the episode above.

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​Strange encounters, Rick burgess, Spiritual warfare, Christianity