When I was a child, Rush Limbaugh was on constantly in our house. His show ran for three hours, every week day. 15 hours a week. A precocious child, I thought constantly about what I would call in to his show and talk about. But I could never think of a single issue I agreed with

When I was eleven I decided privately that Rush was an angry and scared man. I also grieved that my kind and loving father switched into different tones and cadences whenever talk turned to politics. He mimicked that mean man from the radio, he turned into someone else.

As a child it was so confusing. I wanted to make my dad proud and love Rush Limbaugh but I didn’t understand it—nor did I see how it fit into the rest of our lives, which revolves around following God and reading the Bible. To me there was a great disconnect, even then.

Now, looking back, I feel a great sadness. 15 hours a week, 52 weeks a year. Times that by decades and decades. Rush Limbaugh discipled generations of people into fear. His voice eclipsed any other book or pastor or teacher. It was constant. It never ended.

I grieve what his radio show discipled people into. And I think much of my current work stems from exploring the doubts and questions that began to bloom in my young mind: didn’t Jesus tell us to love our neighbors? To lay down our lives for each other? That the poor are blessed?

I love my dad but our relationship is complicated, because of how he has been discipled for decades and my rejection of those worldviews. He is proud of me but is also deeply concerned about my differing views--and putting those views into the public square.

I told him the title of my next book and he sighed, and then asked me if I was going to be promoting socialism or not https://www.amazon.com/Myth-American-Dream-Reflections-Affluence-ebook/dp/B07ZG7H9YV