Today we bring you a show taped live at the CURE 2025 National Clergy Summit in Washington, D.C., at the iconic Willard Hotel—where history meets destiny just two blocks from the White House.
The voice you're about to hear belongs to the Honorable Janice Rogers Brown, a judicial titan who rose from segregated Alabama to the California Supreme Court and then to the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals, confirmed in a 56–43 Senate showdown that still echoes in conservative lore. She retired in 2017 as one of the sharpest originalist minds of her era, a Bradley Prize laureate, and the author of the explosive 2024 essay *"Bread and Stones,"* which declares the Supreme Court's 1873 *Slaughter-House* decision turned the 14th Amendment's promise of liberty into a stone of oppression for Black Americans and every citizen since.
But forget the résumé—this is no dusty lecture. Judge Brown steps to the Willard podium and delivers a sermon that feels like a lightning strike. She opens with a kindergarten story about a boy who draws God in ten minutes, then pivots to a chilling diagnosis: America has fallen from "city on a hill" to a meteorite streaking into the abyss, its light fading in a culture drunk on power and contemptuous of the Creator who once defined our equality. She quotes Ken Burns calling the American Founding the second greatest event in human history, then sharpens the blade: it only matters because the Founders tethered equality to God, not human whim. Calvin Coolidge's 1926 warning rings through her words—"If all men are created equal, that is final"—and anyone who denies it is marching backward into tyranny.
She resurrectes the "black regiment" of colonial preachers whose pulpits birthed the Revolution, then warns today's clergy: you are the last line before Canadian-style arrests for preaching biblical sexuality. California already fines citizens $250,000 for refusing to call a man "she," and the First Amendment's right to silence is dead under SOGI laws. Congress flipped from defending marriage in 1996 to codifying *Obergefell* in 2022, proving we are not the people who sustained liberty for 250 years. On campuses, students chant "Don't tell me facts!" and declare objective truth a Euro-West weapon to silence the oppressed—Isaiah's lament that "truth has fallen in the streets" has never felt more urgent.
Yet rebellion, she insists, isn't ignorance; it's defiance. We know right from wrong because it's written on our hearts. The rainbow flag isn't about tolerance—it's about forcing celebration to quiet guilty consciences. She closes with Martin Luther King's dream, updated for our moment: dissatisfied until no one shouts white power, black power, or trans power, but God's power and human power. "We've messed this up so badly no human can fix it," she says, voice steady with hope, "but that ain't all we got."
If you're a pastor, parent, or patriot who still believes America's founding was a spiritual revolution worth fighting for, this is your battle cry. Judge Brown doesn't just diagnose the darkness—she hands you the torch. Sit down, press play, and bring the salt. The culture's tomatoes are already flying.
