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NBC News
15-07-2025
- General
- NBC News
Influential evangelical preacher John MacArthur dies at 86
The Rev. John MacArthur, an influential and exacting evangelical preacher, died Monday at the age of 86. He led Grace Community Church in the Los Angeles neighborhood of Sun Valley for more than five decades. His ministry announced his death on social media. On Sunday, Tom Patton, one of the church's pastors, told the congregation MacArthur had been hospitalized with pneumonia. MacArthur made news during the coronavirus pandemic for flouting Los Angeles County's health orders by holding indoor services for hundreds of congregants and refusing to enforce masking and physical-distancing requirements. Well before then, his influence had spread far beyond Southern California, where he grew up and took the helm of his nondenominational congregation at age 29. His Grace to You broadcast ministry circulated his theologically conservative teachings while his many books, including the popular MacArthur Study Bible, were translated into dozens of languages. 'His legacy as a pastor and teacher in the faith will continue to inspire many generations to come,' said Jonathan Falwell, chancellor of Liberty University, where MacArthur had given the convocation address. Dressed in a suit and tie, he eschewed pop culture references and emotional appeals from the pulpit, even as they became mainstays of modern evangelicalism. His followers lauded him for his expository preaching, in which he walked them through Scripture line by line. He wanted his sermons to be timeless explanations of the Bible as he interpreted it. 'He could get more out of a Bible verse than anyone I've ever known,' evangelical leader Franklin Graham wrote on social media. He called MacArthur one of 'America's great Bible teachers.' He was 'a lion of the pulpit,' wrote the Rev. Al Mohler, a Southern Baptist leader, for the evangelical World magazine. 'He was a preacher God used to make other preachers better preachers.' MacArthur was unafraid to stir controversy for the sake of his beliefs, even deriding fellow evangelicals for what he saw as incorrect teachings and theology, including the growing charismatic wing of Christianity. He was an outspoken proponent of complementarianism — the belief that men and women have different roles and women should not be pastors. He publicly rebuked two influential evangelical women: the popular Bible teacher Beth Moore and the Rev. Paula White-Cain, a spiritual advisor to President Donald Trump. During a packed, indoor Sunday morning service at the height of the coronavirus pandemic, MacArthur told applauding congregants that they were not meeting to be rebellious, but because 'our Lord has commanded us to come together and worship him.' The county and the church traded lawsuits, with the latter arguing the COVID-19 mandates violated their constitutional right to religious freedom. In August 2021, the county's board of supervisors voted to pay $800,000 to Grace Community Church to settle the lawsuit — an outcome MacArthur hailed as a 'monumental victory.' The church has also weathered allegations related to its handling of abuse allegations and its treatment of women leaving abusive marriages. MacArthur hailed from a long line of pastors, including his father. As part of his ministry, he helped train future church leaders through the Master's University and the Master's Seminary, both in Southern California. He is survived by his wife, Patricia, and his four adult children, Matt, Marcy, Mark and Melinda, along with 15 grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren. MacArthur had suffered from health problems in recent years, including heart and lung procedures. He spoke about his ill health in a video message to a church leadership conference earlier this year. 'I realize I'm on the last lap,' he said. 'That takes on a new meaning when you know you're on the short end of the candle. I am all thanks and praise to God for everything he's allowed me to be a part of and everything he's accomplished by his Word in these years of ministry.'
San Francisco Chronicle
15-07-2025
- General
- San Francisco Chronicle
Influential evangelical preacher John MacArthur dies at 86
The Rev. John MacArthur, an influential and exacting evangelical preacher, died Monday at the age of 86. He led Grace Community Church in the Los Angeles neighborhood of Sun Valley for more than five decades. His ministry announced his death on social media. On Sunday, Tom Patton, one of the church's pastors, told the congregation MacArthur had been hospitalized with pneumonia. MacArthur made news during the coronavirus pandemic for flouting Los Angeles County's health orders by holding indoor services for hundreds of congregants and refusing to enforce masking and physical-distancing requirements. Well before then, his influence had spread far beyond Southern California, where he grew up and took the helm of his nondenominational congregation at age 29. His Grace to You broadcast ministry circulated his theologically conservative teachings while his many books, including the popular MacArthur Study Bible, were translated into dozens of languages. Dressed in a suit and tie, he eschewed pop culture references and emotional appeals from the pulpit, even as they became mainstays of modern evangelicalism. His followers lauded him for his expository preaching, in which he walked them through Scripture line by line. He wanted his sermons to be timeless explanations of the Bible as he interpreted it. 'He could get more out of a Bible verse than anyone I've ever known,' evangelical leader Franklin Graham wrote on social media. He called MacArthur one of 'America's great Bible teachers.' He was 'a lion of the pulpit,' wrote the Rev. Al Mohler, a Southern Baptist leader, for the evangelical World magazine. 'He was a preacher God used to make other preachers better preachers.' MacArthur was unafraid to stir controversy for the sake of his beliefs, even deriding fellow evangelicals for what he saw as incorrect teachings and theology, including the growing charismatic wing of Christianity. He was an outspoken proponent of complementarianism – the belief that men and women have different roles and women should not be pastors. He publicly rebuked two influential evangelical women: the popular Bible teacher Beth Moore and the Rev. Paula White-Cain, a spiritual advisor to President Donald Trump. During a packed, indoor Sunday morning service at the height of the coronavirus pandemic, MacArthur told applauding congregants that they were not meeting to be rebellious, but because 'our Lord has commanded us to come together and worship him.' The county and the church traded lawsuits, with the latter arguing the COVID-19 mandates violated their constitutional right to religious freedom. In August 2021, the county's board of supervisors voted to pay $800,000 to Grace Community Church to settle the lawsuit — an outcome MacArthur hailed as a 'monumental victory.' The church has also weathered allegations related to its handling of abuse allegations and its treatment of women leaving abusive marriages. MacArthur hailed from a long line of pastors, including his father. As part of his ministry, he helped train future church leaders through the Master's University and the Master's Seminary, both in Southern California. He is survived by his wife, Patricia, and his four adult children, Matt, Marcy, Mark and Melinda, along with 15 grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren. MacArthur had suffered from health problems in recent years, including heart and lung procedures. He spoke about his ill health in a video message to a church leadership conference earlier this year. 'I realize I'm on the last lap,' he said. 'That takes on a new meaning when you know you're on the short end of the candle. I am all thanks and praise to God for everything he's allowed me to be a part of and everything he's accomplished by his Word in these years of ministry.' ___ Associated Press writer Deepa Bharath in Los Angeles contributed. ___
Winnipeg Free Press
15-07-2025
- General
- Winnipeg Free Press
Influential evangelical preacher John MacArthur dies at 86
The Rev. John MacArthur, an influential and exacting evangelical preacher, died Monday at the age of 86. He led Grace Community Church in the Los Angeles neighborhood of Sun Valley for more than five decades. His ministry announced his death on social media. On Sunday, Tom Patton, one of the church's pastors, told the congregation MacArthur had been hospitalized with pneumonia. MacArthur made news during the coronavirus pandemic for flouting Los Angeles County's health orders by holding indoor services for hundreds of congregants and refusing to enforce masking and physical-distancing requirements. Well before then, his influence had spread far beyond Southern California, where he grew up and took the helm of his nondenominational congregation at age 29. His Grace to You broadcast ministry circulated his theologically conservative teachings while his many books, including the popular MacArthur Study Bible, were translated into dozens of languages. Dressed in a suit and tie, he eschewed pop culture references and emotional appeals from the pulpit, even as they became mainstays of modern evangelicalism. His followers lauded him for his expository preaching, in which he walked them through Scripture line by line. He wanted his sermons to be timeless explanations of the Bible as he interpreted it. 'He could get more out of a Bible verse than anyone I've ever known,' evangelical leader Franklin Graham wrote on social media. He called MacArthur one of 'America's great Bible teachers.' He was 'a lion in the pulpit,' wrote the Rev. Al Mohler, a Southern Baptist leader, for the evangelical World magazine. 'He was a preacher God used to make other preachers better preachers.' MacArthur was unafraid to stir controversy for the sake of his beliefs, even deriding fellow evangelicals for what he saw as incorrect teachings and theology, including the growing charismatic wing of Christianity. He was an outspoken proponent of complementarianism – the belief that men and women have different roles and women should not be pastors. He publicly rebuked two influential evangelical women: the popular Bible teacher Beth Moore and the Rev. Paula White-Cain, a spiritual advisor to President Donald Trump. During a packed, indoor Sunday morning service at the height of the coronavirus pandemic, MacArthur told applauding congregants that they were not meeting to be rebellious, but because 'our Lord has commanded us to come together and worship him.' The county and the church traded lawsuits, with the latter arguing the COVID-19 mandates violated their constitutional right to religious freedom. In August 2021, the county's board of supervisors voted to pay $800,000 to Grace Community Church to settle the lawsuit — an outcome MacArthur hailed as a 'monumental victory.' The church has also weathered allegations related to its handling of abuse allegations and its treatment of women leaving abusive marriages. MacArthur hailed from a long line of pastors, including his father. As part of his ministry, he helped train future church leaders through the Master's University and the Master's Seminary, both in Southern California. He is survived by his wife, Patricia, and his four adult children, Matt, Marcy, Mark and Melinda, along with 15 grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren. MacArthur had suffered from health problems in recent years, including heart and lung procedures. He spoke about his ill health in a video message to a church leadership conference earlier this year. 'I realize I'm on the last lap,' he said. 'That takes on a new meaning when you know you're on the short end of the candle. I am all thanks and praise to God for everything he's allowed me to be a part of and everything he's accomplished by his Word in these years of ministry.' ___ Associated Press writer Deepa Bharath in Los Angeles contributed. ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
Atlantic
15-07-2025
- Politics
- Atlantic
I Left My Church—And Found Christianity
A decade after the Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage in Obergefell v. Hodges, the Southern Baptist Convention wants to roll it back. In June, the SBC overwhelmingly voted to pass a resolution, 'On Restoring Moral Clarity Through God's Design for Gender, Marriage, and the Family,' which defines marriage as an exclusively heterosexual covenant and calls for the overturning of Obergefell. For many Americans, gay marriage feels like a settled issue. For Southern Baptists and others who share their theology, the question of the legality of gay marriage is still open. In their view, political and theological opposition is the only possible Christian response to gay marriage, and continuing to challenge marriage equality is a moral duty. The Church they have shaped has no room for the alternative path that many gay Christians have found: not leaving our religion, but embracing our sexuality alongside our faith. I grew up in conservative, evangelical churches. For my undergraduate degree, I attended Union University, a Southern Baptist school in Jackson, Tennessee. I graduated in 2013, and in the years leading up to Obergefell I saw how the growing cultural acceptance of same-sex relationships was haunting Southern Baptist leaders, who viewed it as an existential threat. Their idea of Christian faithfulness in America became synonymous with fighting for a narrow, biblically literalist sexual ethic to be the law of the land. The resolution from the Southern Baptist Convention echoes the arguments I heard as a student: Secular laws are meant to reflect God's moral order, and calling a same-sex partnership a marriage is flatly lying. In one of my ethics classes at Union, the professor insisted that Christians should strongly oppose the legalization of gay marriage as a matter of love for our neighbor. We should not let others enter into something we knew would be destructive, no matter how much they might think they wanted it. One of my classmates suggested that people might be born gay. Would this require a more compassionate response? The professor was unfazed. 'I'm sure there is a biological component, and that doesn't change my view. You can have cancer that is not your fault, and some people are born with cancer of the soul.' David A. Graham: New, ominous signs for gay rights keep emerging The threat Southern Baptists perceived was not just to the social order at large. I heard dire warnings that the legalization of gay marriage would become the catalyst for renewed Christian persecution in America. I heard sermons describing a future where our Church would be dismantled because we refused to perform same-sex marriages. Gay marriage was not a matter of individual freedom; the real freedom at stake was our religious liberty. These predictions have not come to fruition in the 10 years since Obergefell, but the fears persist. In 'On Restoring Moral Clarity,' it crops up in references to laws compelling people to 'speak falsehoods about sex and gender' and the right of each person to 'speak the truth without fear or coercion.' Though churches still have the freedom to refuse to perform gay marriages, ordain openly gay people, or serve Communion to those in same-sex relationships, the idea that Christians are legally forced to accept LGBTQ identities remains a powerful rhetorical tool. My alma mater also benefits from religious exemptions to nondiscrimination laws: In 2020, Union University rescinded its admission of a student entering its nursing program after learning that he was gay. As it did then, the current student handbook at Union prohibits 'homosexual activities' and the 'promotion, advocacy, defense, or ongoing practice of a homosexual lifestyle.' Despite national reporting and a flood of stories from gay alumni about the damage these policies caused, the university continues to exclude LGBTQ students. When I was a student at Union, I did not know I was a lesbian. Maybe it is more accurate to say that I could not know. I believed in and yearned for the God the Church had taught me about. I could not reconcile what I had been raised to believe God wanted from me with the truth of my sexuality. When I finally realized I was gay, I was no longer in the Southern Baptist Church. After graduating from Union, I joined a congregation in the Anglican Church of North America, a conservative denomination formed in a split from the Episcopal Church over women's ordination and the inclusion of gay members. My new church's leaders felt no need to lament Obergefell when it passed, but they still taught that same-sex relationships were antithetical to Christianity. When I came out to them in 2018, the choice set before me was either lifelong celibacy or leaving my beloved community behind. According to my Southern Baptist education, I was also choosing whether to leave God behind. The evangelical voices in my life framed my dilemma as a choice between faithfulness to God and weakness—a capitulation to secular logic and a selfish desire for pleasure. In Matthew 16:24, Jesus calls on his disciples to 'deny themselves and take up their cross.' Gay Christians are all too familiar with these words as weapons. Everyone has a cross, we are told, and it just so happens that ours is living without the romantic partnership we are built to flourish within. Pastors and mentors assured me that I was following God's design, so my sacrifice would eventually lead me to 'have life … abundantly,' which Jesus promises in John 10:10, no matter how painful the interim. The final sentence of 'On Restoring Moral Clarity' says that Christians proceed 'trusting that' God's 'ways lead to human flourishing.' No amount of despair, suffering, and death (most literally reflected in increased suicidality among LGBTQ people of faith) experienced by gay Christians has managed to challenge this presupposition. It is a matter of faith that our suffering is godly. We continue to receive counsel to take up our cross in the hope of a distant resurrection. I spent years telling myself that I could love my Church enough to make up for all the love I would never have. I hoped that the emptiness that burned in my chest could be transformed. It was only one rule. Could I really not follow just one rule? But that one rule was not one simple sacrifice. It was the total subjugation of my ability to give and receive love, an all-encompassing demand of fealty to the authority of my Church. The ground shifted under me as I fought to stay in the Church. By the summer of 2020, I was in a deep crisis of faith. I saw gay Christians happily married while retaining their commitment to faith, and I could not in good conscience deny the Holy Spirit I saw at work in these relationships. I realized that the choice was not between God and my desire for a relationship. It was between my church community and my own integrity. My decision to leave was agonizing. I sobbed through conversations where a pastor recited our Church's theology of marriage. I prayed for a way forward. In the end, the only way forward was out. Today I work for the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), at a congregation that fully affirms all LGBTQ people. I am effectively estranged from the communities that I grew up in and committed to as an adult. At first, I worried that embracing my sexuality alongside my faith meant choosing a less serious, less disciplined form of Christianity. Instead, I have found that in leaving my Church, I found only deeper love for God. The cross I took up did not turn out to be forgoing romantic partnership for the rest of my life. Instead, it was listening to the voice of the Spirit within me even when it cost me more than I knew I had. I was not surprised to lose friendships and the network of support that I had had in the evangelical Church. What took longer to accept was the unmooring of my identity, the need to find a new center for my spirituality once I let go of the theology that shaped me. To affirm the goodness of my sexuality, I had to find a new home. Stephanie Burt: A strange time to be trans In my Southern Baptist university and the evangelical Churches I grew up attending, I often heard that opposition to gay marriage was a sincerely held religious belief that Christians should be allowed to practice. I never heard this same language extended to Christians who affirmed the goodness of same-sex relationships. I heard only that theological affirmation of LGBTQ identities was a weak attempt to appease secular culture. For many Christians, affirmation of queer identities is an equally sincere religious conviction. The churches that embrace LGBTQ people as beloved members of the community are motivated by Christian love for God and neighbor. We see the beauty of God's design in our real, embodied lives, and we seek human flourishing that is more than an abstract promise of finding meaning in the pain. The gay and trans Christians I know are the most committed people of faith I have ever met. We had every reason to leave, and yet we are still here. We are here because we still believe in Jesus, and we still believe the Spirit works through this beloved, holy, and achingly human Church. Historically, the Church has seen marriage as a vocation, a calling from God to be formed by a particular way of life. When gay Christians seek to commit their life to their partner through marriage in the eyes of God and the law, they are asking for the religious liberty to act on their sincerely held convictions. For 10 years, Obergefell has protected our right to practice our faith as our conscience dictates. May we continue to have the freedom to love as God leads us to for many generations.
USA Today
10-07-2025
- Entertainment
- USA Today
Ethel Cain statement apologizes for racism, criticizes 'smear campaign' against her
Ethel Cain is speaking out after controversial comments from her past resurfaced. The singer-songwriter, whose legal name is Hayden Silas Anhedönia, shared a lengthy statement July 9 addressing a series of social media posts made public recently in which she used derogatory and racist language. Cain, 27, verified that the screenshots (mostly from Twitter and the now-defunct platform CuriousCat) were authentic, and launched into an explanation of her late teenage years, seemingly to explain the surfaced comments. In them, Cain uses a racial slur, makes a rape joke, and employs fatphobic and xenophobic language. USA TODAY has reached out to Cain's reps for comment. "I spent my later high-school years being extremely progressive and 'SJW' as they called it at the time, as a way to reject the indoctrination of my environment and rebel against the prejudice, hatred, and ignorance of the culture I grew up in," Cain wrote in the statement posted to a shared Google Drive. "SJW" refers to social justice warrior, a person who has taken up several social causes sometimes overzealously. "After moving out of my parents' house, I fell into a subculture online that prioritized garnering attention at all costs. I flip-flopped again, rejecting all notions of my former 'cringe SJW' behavior and intended to be as inflammatory and controversial as possible," she continued. "I would have said (and usually did say) anything, about anyone, to gain attention and ultimately just make my friends laugh." Cain, a Florida native, catapulted to popularity in 2022 with her debut album "Preacher's Daughter." Her dreamy, ambient sound explores American Gothic themes, drawing on her own upbringing in the Southern Baptist church. With singles like "American Teenager," Cain turns her pen to the holes in American exceptionalism, tearing apart her religious raising and the tragedies of a state at war. Her comments, dating back to 2017 and '18, stand at odds with the version of herself projected in the music. "I could tell you that I had no idea at the time the platform I would have in the future, or tell you I just have a dry and extremely sarcastic sense of humor, or make any other kind of excuse, but there's no place for excuses in this matter," Cain continued in her statement. "At the end of the day, I am white, so while I can take accountability for my actions, there's no way for me to fully understand the way it feels to be on the receiving end of them. All I can say is that I am truly sorry from the bottom of my heart, to anyone who read it then and to anyone reading it now. Any way you feel about me moving forward is valid. "This was a chapter of my life I look back at shamefully. I am not proud of my actions, and I have done my best to bury it as I feel strongly that no good can come from it," she wrote. "As I move forward through my life, I aim to use my platform for good, for change, and for progress." Shifting from atonement to anger, Cain went on to accuse a group of intentionally leaking the screenshots, not to promote dialogue but to smear her online. "All of these things resurfacing are not the actions of a well-meaning individual concerned by something they discovered easily and casually on the internet," she argued. "These are screenshots obtained through extensive digging, hacking, and cooperative effort amongst a group of individuals who do not care who else is hurt by witnessing this media as long as I am ultimately hurt the worst in the end. "I've known that all of these separate pieces of my past have been found and hoarded over the past couple years as I've been tipped off in various ways," Cain continued. "This massive smear campaign has been a long time in the making, waiting for the right moment to be unleashed, and now it finally has. "All they crave is the complete emotional destruction of me as a person," she wrote. "Personal accounts of mine have been hacked, my family has been doxxed and harassed, photos of me as a child and intimate details of my past have been passed around for fun." Cain, who is transgender, went on to address one by one the series of accusations made against her by what she called a "transphobic brigade of individuals." The accusations run the gamut, drawing not only from the social media screenshots but from deep dives into the art that she used to promote her music. Taking accountability for the racism baked into many of her earlier comments, Cain said that's where she would stop, and that the other "ridiculous material" was mere "brutal slander." "No I am not a violent misogynist fetishizing the 'female experience'. No I am not the creator of child pornography, nor am I a pedophile, a zoophile, or a porn-addicted incest fetishist," she said. "I urge you to recognize the patterns of a transphobic/otherwise targeted smear campaign, especially in this political day and age. "This entire situation is negligent, sensationalized, and extremely dangerous not only for myself but for all my loved ones."
