It’s been said that if you want to see the theological temperature of the modern American church, you don’t go to the pulpit—you go to the fellowship hall, where a circle of women sit cradling pastel-covered workbooks with Beth Moore’s name stamped across the front like a branding iron. The giggles are warm, the tears are real, the coffee is mediocre, a…
© 2025 Jeff Maples
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