Marriage

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Baseball cap wars: Can the biblical rainbow coexist with a Pride Night rainbow?

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Baseball cap wars: Can the biblical rainbow coexist with a Pride Night rainbow?

After the great flood in the Book of Genesis, God offered a timeless symbol of hope.

The Bible says God promised: "I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth. Whenever … the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind. Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life."

Nevertheless, clashing rainbow symbols recently created a storm in Major League Baseball when powers wielded by team owners clashed with the religious beliefs of players.

The big question: Can the biblical rainbow coexist on the same Pride Night baseball cap with the today's rainbow celebrating LGBTQ+ rights?

This controversy raised legitimate First Amendment issues, but also helped clarify the workplace rights of employers, said Hal Frampton, senior counsel for Alliance Defending Freedom and director of the group's Center for Conscience Initiatives.

The clash between MLB leaders and several San Francisco Giants pitchers "was about both issues, really," he said, reached by telephone. "It was about not being discriminated against" in the workplace, especially if there were questions about whether an employer was "enforcing a rule consistently," or only enforcing it when there was "religious expression that was seen as troublesome" to employers.

The firestorm began when Giants starting pitcher Landen Roupp, along with relievers J.T. Brubaker and Ryan Walker, wrote Bible verse references -- variations on Genesis 9: 12-16 -- next to the rainbow logo on their Pride Night caps. Relief pitcher Sam Hentges chose to wear his standard black-and-orange Giants cap, without the rainbow logo.

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Chris Pratt and Ben Sasse discuss family life, faith and Hollywood's idols

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Chris Pratt and Ben Sasse discuss family life, faith and Hollywood's idols

Superstar Chris Pratt was enduring a messy, painful time in his life when he was selected to receive the MTV Network's 2018 Generation Award, saluting his impact on popular culture.

Pratt decided to take a leap of faith, during his on-camera remarks.

"I'm going to say to this young generation the things that I want to say," he said, in a recent appearance on the "Not Dead Yet" podcast cohosted by former U.S. Sen. Ben Sasse and political analyst Chris Stirewalt. "God has saved me multiple times. I'm gonna put my money where my mouth is and stand on this stage and say this to these folks. And so, I did it."

The star of Guardians of the Galaxy, the Jurassic Park reboots and myriad blockbusters -- grossing more than $14 billion globally -- outed himself as a Christian. His advice included, for example, "Learn to pray. It's easy, and it's so good for your soul" and "God is real. God loves you. God wants the best for you. Believe that. I do."

This immediately fueled speculation about how his faith would affect his cultural clout. Then, in 2020, Pratt started Indivisible Productions, with a nod to the phrase "one nation under God, indivisible" in the Pledge of Allegiance. The company's mission is to "create entertaining content, focusing on themes which will help to bridge the growing divide in our country and world."

Pratt said it's hard to look at American life right now without feeling worried and grateful, at the same time.

"I've got to be careful about this because I love America," he said. "I believe in God's providence that, you know, we have something really extraordinary here. And I love Hollywood as well. I love movies." However, he added: "As human beings, our hearts are designed in such a way that we have a spot reserved in them to be in awe of God."

Truth is, he added: "I work in a business where we create idols. And we worship them. And no one is worthy of worship. And so not only do we create idols to worship, we create idols to burn. … It's not an indictment on the system that they would look at me and say, 'You know what, he said this, so let's burn him.'"

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Life in a fishbowl: Southern Baptist pastors' wives get a chance to tell their stories

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Life in a fishbowl: Southern Baptist pastors' wives get a chance to tell their stories

The Orange County Convention Center in Orlando will be buzzing when 20,000 Southern Baptists gather for their annual national meeting, rushing between forums, worship, reunions, business sessions and politicking about their elections and resolutions.

But there will be an upstairs room set aside June 8-9, divided into spaces for one-on-one encounters while a white-noise machine creates as much privacy as possible. For the second time, leaders connected to a network of Southern Baptist women will meet with pastors' wives who applied, in advance, for counseling.

One 2025 participant offered confidential feedback: "On top of church ministry concerns, I was broken over my relationship with our prodigal daughter and burdened by the time-consuming caregiving responsibilities with my aging mother. Though I had never gone to counseling, I knew its value. … I was given the freedom to be completely honest, without fear of damaging our family or my testimony."

Counselors later discussed the most common concerns, said Cheryl Bell, a former nurse who has a doctorate in biblical counseling. She teaches at Southwestern Baptist Seminary in Fort Worth, Texas, and also helps women who are pursuing doctoral degrees.

Many pastors' wives say they "live in fishbowls." Others describe being on the "front lines" of ministry, striving to help husbands who seem to have targets on their backs. In these sessions, participants often expressed anxiety, anger, loneliness and discouragement.

"They are always being observed," said Bell, reached by Zoom. "It's a critical gaze. … I think church members expect their pastors and their wives to be unique -- spiritually. … When they show that they have a sin nature they feel like they are immediately under judgement."

Can families hide in a fishbowl? Bell laughed and added: "That would take a lot of energy. Period."

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Commencement to remember: Country singer Eric Church on faith, family and more

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Commencement to remember: Country singer Eric Church on faith, family and more

When addressing the 2026 graduates at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, country-music star Eric Church used words rarely heard in secular-campus rites, such as "faith," "family," "grace" and "soul."

Using an acoustic guitar, Church explained how its strings, when in tune, represent essential elements of life. The May 9 speech went viral on YouTube, Facebook, TikTok and other platforms, with an estimated 4 million views so far.

The bass string is "faith," he said. "Your belief about what this life is for … what holds the universe together when science reaches the edge of its own explanation, and shrugs.

"The people who tend to their faith in ordinary seasons do not come undone in extraordinary ones. They still hurt. They still sit in hospital waiting rooms asking unanswerable questions at three in the morning. But they have a foundation to return to. … Tend to your faith. Not just when you're broken, but when you're whole."

Church, who grew up Baptist, didn't label his own faith in this speech. His eight-album career began with "Sinner Like Me" in 2006, with a title song that ended with this verse: "On the day I die / I know where I'm gonna go / Me and Jesus got that part worked out / I'll wait at the gates 'til his face I see / And stand in a long line of sinners like me."

The singer's address was not explicitly Christian and included zero material about politics. However, it was an example of a major campus welcoming an unconventional voice popular with middle America.

Elite-campus leaders need to show that they are committed to cultural diversity, noted Robert P. George, an outspoken Catholic and distinguished professor of jurisprudence at Princeton University. A 2022 survey of commencement rites at America's top 25 research universities and top 25 liberal-arts colleges failed to find a "single conservative among a sea of liberal and progressive speakers. A harmless coincidence? No," he wrote, in a recent Washington Post essay.

This "commencement conformity" may be caused by "inattentiveness or a lack of careful thinking on the part of administrators. George argued that these choices matter since, to quote Harvard University President Alan Garber, "truth is rarely found in echo chambers." Thus, it's important to challenge "ideological bubbles," even if that will cause on-campus tensions.

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Gov. Bill Lee of Tennessee offers a testimony on grief and renewal (with no politics)

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Gov. Bill Lee of Tennessee offers a testimony on grief and renewal (with no politics)

There was nothing unusual about Tennessee Gov. Bill Lee meeting with Jelly Roll before pardoning him for the felony robbery and drug-related crimes in his past.

What the governor didn't realize was that they had met years earlier, when Lee offered a prison testimony about the impact of grief on his family. That audience included the future country-music superstar.

At the recent National Prayer Breakfast, Lee said the man previously known as Jason DeFord told him: "You don't remember me, but we met in 2008. …You were not the governor, and I was not Jelly Roll. And here we are, 17 years later."

Lee said his Jelly Roll reunion reminded him of truths he learned after his wife's fatal horse-riding accident in 2000.

"There are very few things in life that matter and we should be about them," he said. "I have a belief that within every human being, there's this innate sense that we all need a pardon. And there is only one who can grant that pardon, and He has to be asked. … His name is Jesus."

The governor was asked to be the keynoter on one day's notice. His testimony contrasted sharply with the politically charged atmosphere in recent prayer breakfasts. In fact, there are now two competing events, with many lawmakers attending a smaller U.S. Capitol event.

News after the larger Washington Hilton rite focused on President Donald Trump's claim that, "I've done more for religion than any other president," referring to his actions on religious-freedom issues at home and abroad.

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Philip Yancey is, once again, counting on the mercy and grace of God

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Philip Yancey is, once again, counting on the mercy and grace of God

Asked to judge a woman "caught in the act of adultery," the Gospel of John says Jesus stooped, wrote something in the dust, then told her accusers: "Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her."

Then he wrote again. The silent religious leaders drifted away. What happened next sums up Christian teachings on sin, grace and forgiveness, according to Philip Yancey, long one of America's most popular evangelical writers.

Jesus asked the woman: "Didn't even one of them condemn you?" She said, "No, Lord," to which he replied, "Neither do I. Go and sin no more."

Fundamentalist preachers often portray God as a "cosmic policeman, someone who was just waiting to smash somebody who does something wrong," said Yancey, during a podcast with the Rev. Russell Moore, editor-at-large of Christianity Today.

That's wrong, said Yancey. Instead, church leaders should, "Start with Jesus and end with Jesus. … Jesus wasn't a pushover, by any means, but he was always full of compassion. … He never turned someone away who had an attitude of repentance."

Yancey has repeatedly delivered this message during a half century of addressing Christian denominations, colleges and myriad other gatherings. His books, such as "The Scandal of Forgiveness," have sold 20 million copies in 49 languages.

But the Moore podcast, on "The Problem of Pain and Suffering," was posted only four months before Yancey, 76, announced his retirement -- due to an eight-year sexual relationship with a married woman.

"My conduct defied everything that I believe about marriage. It was also totally inconsistent with my faith and my writings and caused deep pain for her husband and both of our families," wrote Yancey, to Christianity Today, where he was a columnist for decades.

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Erika Kirk and the message behind the St. Michael's cross she gave to her husband

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Erika Kirk and the message behind the St. Michael's cross she gave to her husband

Soon after she began dating Charlie Kirk, Erika Frantzve -- a devout Catholic -- asked him: "Why don't you wear a cross?"

Kirk's response: "I'm not a jewelry guy." She gave him a St. Michael's Cross, which he started wearing as "he felt the weight of the world on him," Turning Point USA spokesman Andrew Kolvet told Fox News. "He never took it off again, until he was assassinated and the people caring for him ripped it off as they tried to save his life."

The St. Michael's prayer, written in 1898 by Pope Leo XIII, describes fierce warfare between good and evil: "St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. … By the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls."

Erika Kirk wore that blood-stained pendant during the September 21 memorial service in State Farm Stadium in Glendale, Arizona -- with an estimated 100,000 people inside and thousands gathered nearby. At least 20 million watched on Fox, X and YouTube, with many more using other simulcasts.

In her 30-minute testimony, she said her husband knew his life was in danger, but he stressed the biblical message in a verse from Isaiah: "Here I am, Lord. Send me."

Kirk said she once told him: "Charlie, baby, please talk to me next time before you say that. … When you say, 'Here I am, Lord. Use me,' God will take you up on that.' … God accepted that total surrender from my husband and then called him to His side."

Erika Kirk's address dominated an event that featured President Donald Trump and multiple cabinet members. While praising what Kirk achieved in his 31-year life, several shared how his death has pushed them to ponder their own beliefs.

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Will Leanne Morgan's faith make the cut in her new sitcom on Netflix?

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Will Leanne Morgan's faith make the cut in her new sitcom on Netflix?

It's hard to take Jello salad to the after-church brunch a few hours after your husband of 33 years runs off with a younger woman.

But the old-fashioned church Leanne Morgan attends in her summer Netflix sitcom does have a Philippians 4:13 poster in the fellowship hall proclaiming: "I can do all things through Him who gives me strength."

Alas, the faithful are walking stereotypes. Asked how she's doing, a widow offers a pasted-on smile and says she is "basking in the sunshine of our Savior." Leanne remains silent about her marriage disaster, until she cracks and dashes, shouting, out the door.

"You've been a good Christian your whole life," her twice-divorced sister quips. "You're intitled to a small psychotic break in fellowship."

The writers' room for "Leanne" did some Southern-church research, but the faith content is nowhere near as smart and on-target as Morgan's stand-up comedy, said Randall King, who teaches classes in video storytelling at North Greenville (S.C.) University.

"It's not anti-Christian. … But some of the people behind this show are totally tone-deaf when it comes to the Christian faith. And we know that isn't the case with Leanne," he said, reached by telephone. "You can be smart and funny and moral. Leanne Morgan is all of that. … That's what we want, if you're going to take her comedy up a level" into a sitcom.

After binging "Leanne," King said "it's obvious that the character Leanne is playing is a believer. But it's like she's all alone, surrounded by hypocrites making jokes. … Is it realistic that no one close to her shares her faith and can help?"

King admits that his interest in the Netflix series is linked to his "darling fanboy" appreciation of Morgan's stand-up skills. Plus, the comedienne, and her real-life husband, live in the booming "new south" city of Knoxville, Tennessee. She has a University of Tennessee degree in child and family studies. King earned his communications doctorate there, while continuing his work as a reporter, producer and anchor in broadcast journalism.

Truth is, YouTube clips turned Morgan into an "overnight sensation" after two decades of stand-up comedy, mostly in women's groups, church events and small comedy clubs.