After my previous article on the Carlson–Fuentes interview, only two concerns emerged, neither of which actually addressed the article’s premise. Still, I’d like to take a quick moment with them.

The first was theological—a defense of dispensationalism from a very small group. And by small, I mean that. That said, I’ll speak to this relatively quickly because, from my perspective, it is the lesser of the two. Quite simply, dispensationalism is a false doctrine. The Church has never confessed it, and history has not vindicated it. I laid out the evidence quite thoroughly in the original article and see no need to repeat myself. Some errors don’t deserve endless rehearsing.

The second concern (which, resulted in certain behaviors) is the louder one: platforming. It would seem that the process and content of the Carlson-Fuentes interview—and the watching and analyzing of that interview—is equal to amplifying evil. That claim came mostly from the finger-waggers—the “Shame on you!” crowd—who seemed more scandalized by the act of engagement than by ignorance itself. Interestingly, these are some of the same people I’ve seen criticizing modern journalism, saying it no longer serves its original design. But then, when someone actually does what journalism was meant to do—examine, question, expose—they recoil. It’s as though they prefer caricatures to clarity. Maybe even slogans to substance. The moment a journalist dares to enter the cave and shine a light on what’s inside, the guardians of propriety cry foul. They don’t want darkness examined. They want it ignored. “Don’t let it speak,” they say. “Leave it alone, and it will go away.” But ignorance doesn’t defeat evil. It unwittingly protects it. Besides, history has already disproved that strategy. When the world dismissed the early reports of a rising agitator in 1930s Germany as mere fringe ranting unworthy of serious attention, the result was not silence. It was slaughter. The monster eventually came out of the cave, and only those who’d investigated it while it was still in the cave knew what to do.

Something to keep in mind… Ultimately, journalism, theology, and moral reasoning all require engagement. Therefore, to analyze something is not to endorse it. A surgeon can study disease without becoming infected. A pastor can study heresy without believing it. And a podcast journalist can interview a reprobate without becoming one. We don’t preserve truth by closing our eyes. We preserve it by seeing clearly and speaking honestly.

From a “closer-to-home” LCMS perspective, there was the concern that seminarians are being drawn to Fuentes’ ideas. If that’s true, that’s tragic. But it’s also not an argument for ignoring those ideas. It’s an argument for confronting them, for doing it well, and for having a grasp on all its edges. It seems foolish to me to think that young men fascinated by extremism would be rescued from the danger by silence. They’re rescued by reasoned exposure, by the light of truth naming darkness for what it is. It’s a pastor’s responsibility to do this in his congregation. I’m doing that. It’s the LCMS college and seminary professors’ responsibility to do this in the pre-seminary and seminary programs. It seems the more important question for some is not, “Why is Tucker interviewing Fuentes?” but “Are the college and seminary professors doing their jobs?”

And perhaps this is a good place to remind readers of something I asked for at the very start of the original article. I asked for leniency in the communication process. Specifically, I asked the reader to be mindful of “communication missteps common to basic human interaction. Indeed, this topic demands more than care. It requires a listening ear already calibrated toward leniency—with a willingness to admit that not everything is communicated in the best or clearest way that meets everyone.”

I thought the point was a good one. Before I went into the analysis, I admitted that not every sentence can carry its full meaning to every set of ears. Some will hear tone where it was intentionally dry, or offense where there was only observation. Words are imperfect tools, and even careful ones can miss their mark. But the point was that when friends listen to and learn from one another, grace can (and does) fill the gaps that grammar cannot. If someone stumbled over phrasing, I hoped that the friendship would assure leniency. For some, it did. For others, it became the perfect opportunity to attack with a wagging finger.

All of this said, I have one more observation before I need to get going on my day.

I’ll start by saying, when I die, I suspect no one will remember anything I’ve ever said. But I hope they’ll at least remember something about me. They’ll at least be able to say I was never half-cocked in my observations—that I listened before speaking, that I analyzed thoroughly, was reasonable in my responses, did not reply from emotion, and I certainly never stalked the comment sections on Facebook to cry, “Shame on you!” If our age has lost anything, it’s that temperament—the quiet confidence that refuses to confuse emotional moral outrage with moral clarity.

Outrage is easy. Clarity takes work. Again, it’s why I started the original article the way I did. I began by saying, “Slow down. Don’t skim. Read it. We live in an age of headlines and half-quotes, of videos clipped at precisely the point where context and understanding begin. Read. Don’t let nuance be smothered by noise.” But skimming is precisely what many have done. Worst of all, some didn’t even do that. I’ve lost count of how many people I’ve asked, “Have you actually watched the interview?” or “Did you actually read my words?”—only to hear, almost proudly, “No, I didn’t watch it. I’m above that ilk.” Or “No, I didn’t read your words. You’re wrong for even trying.”

They didn’t read. They didn’t listen. They reacted. And they admitted this, still feeling as though they could pass judgment, to lecture others for doing what they themselves refused to do. That’s the irony of the age—outrage without observation, condemnation without comprehension. The same spirit that insists, “Don’t give evil a platform,” continues giving ignorance a pulpit. I would say that’s far more dangerous than a journalistic interview with someone holding terrible ideologies.

Anyway, that’s enough for one morning. I have two sermons to write, confirmation classes to prepare for, and a shut-in visit to make. I pray the Lord’s blessing upon your day. I hope you can pray for the same blessing upon mine.