Shock and Awe
The notification came that the world had a new pontiff. The white smoke had bellowed from the Sistine Chapel signaling such. First reports said an American was elected.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
The notification came that the world had a new pontiff. The white smoke had bellowed from the Sistine Chapel signaling such. First reports said an American was elected.
My eyes first caught the sight of a rosary, lying on my nightstand. The rosary was given to me by a nun, a few villages back. The rosary bears a hieroglyphic-like symbol on it. I have no idea what this symbol means.
Dear God, thank you for letting me happen upon this small church, so I might rest my anguished feet. This little church, alongside the Camino, somewhere in the far flung regions of rural Spain. A place where I can kneel and pray in solitude.
Leòn Cathedral is among the greatest of human works in Gothic style. The church features one of the world’s largest collections of medieval stained glass windows.
In today’s dispatch, Sean answers reader questions about his trek across Spain.
Modern academics and popular media often portray the Crusades as a series of brutal, unprovoked wars of Christian aggression against a peaceful Muslim world. This narrative is not only historically inaccurate, but deeply unjust to the generations of Christians who answered the call to defend their faith, their fellow believers, and the very existence of Christian civilization.
The Book of James in the New Testament is a wonderful instruction manual that explains how to implement our Christianity, even in today’s busy world.
It was our first day off. We had been walking the Camino for three weeks, upwards of 18 miles per day, until our feet bear a striking resemblance to USDA-approved ground ch
This series is a condensed recap of the events God planned and promised through the prophets. The purpose of the events is to graphically reveal God and to emphasize His reality to all humanity everywhere.
Honest answers to a few basic questions will lead the faithful to the inevitable conclusion that we have a moral duty to use ALL means available to prevent government overreach from encroaching on our God given rights.
When you’re out here on the Camino de Santiago, God knows, you’re tired of walking. Tired of moving your feet. You’re not tired physically. Your body feels okay, mostly, except for the fact that everything—even the gray matter of your brain—feels like it has been drop kicked by a 19-year-old NFL draftee.
In my work as a Christian newspaper publisher, radio commentator at TV host, I often have people contact me requesting prayer and counseling. Most all who come for prayer and counsel are Christians.
“I am the vine and you are the branches,” is a familiar scripture. What does it mean to be a part of the vine? And what does it mean to “remain” in the vine?
We arrive in the city of Burgos after a 14-mile walk. Although it feels like 14 million miles. Today is hot. We are sunburned, thirsty, and our skin is covered in a fine layer of crystalized salt from evaporated sweat.
The Nazi regime’s obsession with controlling ideology extended beyond politics and race—it also sought to reshape Christianity to fit its own agenda.
You do three things on the Camino each day. You walk. You talk. You stop to pee.
We all stand outside the small market in Villamayor. There are about twenty-five, maybe thirty of us hapless, fatigued pilgrims. Sweaty and covered in grit. All wearing the same clothes we were wearing two weeks ago.
Grañón is a small village dating back to 885. The stone streets are empty this afternoon. Siesta is underway, the Spanish world has shut down to observe their daily food coma. There are seemingly no rooms in all of Spain tonight. There are 40 percent more pilgrims walking the Camino, we are told, than there …
Six of us have fallen in together, walking side by side for the last several miles of the Camino de Santiago. We are all strangers. All pilgrims. From different nations. There is dust on our backpacks, mud on our boots, and we all smell like something a diuretic horse produced.
My Twitter — I refuse to call it 𝕏 — feed was full of chortling posts claiming that the Vatican denied Vice President J D Vance a meeting with Pope Francis, sending the Vatican’s second-ranking official instead, in what the left loudly proclaimed was a deliberate snub to Mr Vance. That’s not quite what it …