I recently came across an old cassette of Chuck Colson's 1993 address, "The Enduring Revolution", which he delivered before an audience made up of people from many different religions in an event connected to the Templeton Prize at the University of Chicago.  His remarks were a respectful but unapologetic statement of his Christian faith while at the same time an insightful look at modernism and postmodernism and the challenges they present to society.
His remarks are as relevant as the day he delivered them 20 years ago.  You can listen to them 
here. You can read it 
here. 
Regarding his faith. 
I speak as one transformed by Jesus Christ, the living God. He is the 
Way, the Truth, and the Life. He has lived in me for 20 years. His 
presence is the sole explanation for whatever is praiseworthy in my 
work, the only reason for my receiving this award (the Templeton Prize).
 
That is more than a statement about myself. It is a claim to truth. It is a claim that may contradict your own.
Even then he noted that religious liberty was the first liberty or freedom.
Yet
 on this, at least, we must agree: the right to do what I've just 
done--to state my faith without fear--is the first human right. 
Religious liberty is the essence of human dignity. We cannot build our 
temples on the ruins of individual conscience. For faith does not come 
through the weight of power, but through the hope of glory. 
It 
is a sad fact that religious oppression is often practiced by religious 
groups. Sad--and inexcusable. A believer may risk prison for his own 
religious beliefs, but he may never build prisons for those of other 
beliefs. 
It is our obligation--all of us here--to bring back a 
renewed passion for religious liberty to every nation from which we 
came. It is our duty to create a cultural environment where conscience 
can flourish. I say this for the sake of every believer imprisoned for 
boldness or silenced by fear. I say this for the sake of every society 
that has yet to learn the benefits of vital and voluntary religious 
faith. 
The beliefs that divide us should not be minimized. But 
neither should the aspirations we share: for spiritual understanding; 
for justice and compassion; for proper stewardship of God's creation; 
for religious influence--not oppression--in the right ordering of 
society. And for truth against the arrogant lies of our modern age. 
For
 at the close of this century, every religious tradition finds common 
ground in a common task--a struggle over the meaning and future of our 
world and our own particular culture. Each of us has an obligation to 
expose the deceptions that are incompatible with true faith. It is to 
this end I will direct my remarks today. 
He then talked about the four Horseman of the present apocalypse.
 The first is the myth of "goodness of man".
Four
 great myths define our times--the four horsemen of the present 
apocalypse. The first myth is the goodness of man. The first horseman 
rails against heaven with the presumptuous question: Why do bad things 
happen to good people? He multiplies evil by denying its existence. 
This
 myth deludes people into thinking that they are always victims, never 
villains; always deprived, never depraved. It dismisses responsibility 
as the teaching of a darker age. It can excuse any crime, because it can
 always blame something else--a sickness of our society or a sickness of
 the mind. 
One writer called the modern age "the golden age of 
exoneration." When guilt is dismissed as the illusion of narrow minds, 
then no one is accountable, even to his conscience. 
The irony is
 that this should come alive in this century, of all centuries, with its
 gulags and death camps and killing fields. As G.K. Chesterton once 
said, the doctrine of original sin is the only philosophy empirically 
validated by centuries of recorded human history. 
It was a 
holocaust survivor who exposed this myth most eloquently. Yehiel Dinur 
was a witness during the trial of Adolf Eichmann. Dinur entered the 
courtroom and stared at the man behind the bulletproof glass--the man 
who had presided over the slaughter of millions. The court was hushed as
 a victim confronted a butcher. 
Then suddenly Dinur began to 
sob, and collapsed to the floor. Not out of anger or bitterness. As he 
explained later in an interview, what struck him at that instant was a 
terrifying realization. "I was afraid about myself," Dinur said. "I saw 
that I am capable to do this...Exactly like he." 
The reporter 
interviewing Dinur understood precisely. "How was it possible for a man 
to act as Eichmann acted?" he asked. "Was he a monster? A madman? Or was
 he perhaps something even more terrifying...Was he normal?" 
Yehiel Dinur, in a moment of chilling clarity, saw the skull beneath the skin. "Eichmann," he concluded, "is in all of us." 
Jesus said it plainly: "That which proceeds out of the man, that is what defiles the man" (Mark 7:20). 
The second myth is utopianism. 
The second myth of modernity is the promise of coming utopia. The second horseman arrives with sword and slaughter. 
This
 is the myth that human nature can be perfected by government; that a 
new Jerusalem can be built using the tools of politics. 
From the
 birth of this century, ruthless ideologies claimed history as their 
own. They moved swiftly from nation to nation on the strength of a 
promised utopia. They pledged to move the world, but could only stain it
 with blood. 
In communism and fascism we have seen rulers who 
bear the mark of Cain as a badge of honor; who pursue a savage virtue, 
devoid of humility and humanity. We have seen more people killed in this
 century by their own governments than in all its wars combined. We have
 seen every utopian experiment fall exhausted from the pace of its own 
brutality. 
Yet utopian temptations persist, even in the world's 
democracies--stripped of their terrors perhaps, but not of their risks. 
The political illusion still deceives, whether it is called the great 
society, the new covenant, or the new world order. In each case it 
promises government solutions to our deepest needs for security, peace, 
and meaning. 
The third is moral relativism. 
The third myth is the relativity of moral values. The third horseman sows chaos and confusion. 
This
 myth hides the dividing line between good and evil, noble and base. It 
has thus created a crisis in the realm of truth. When a society abandons
 its transcendent values, each individual's moral vision becomes purely 
personal and finally equal. Society becomes merely the sum total of 
individual preferences, and since no preference is morally preferable, 
anything that can be dared will be permitted. 
This leaves the 
moral consensus for our laws and manners in tatters. Moral neutrality 
slips into moral relativism. Tolerance substitutes for truth, 
indifference for religious conviction. And in the end, confusion 
undercuts all our creeds. 
 And the fourth is radical individualism. 
The fourth modern myth is radical individualism. The fourth horseman brings excess and isolation. 
This
 myth dismisses the importance of family, church, and community; denies 
the value of sacrifice; and elevates individual rights and pleasures as 
the ultimate social value. 
But with no higher principles to live
 by, men and women suffocate under their own expanding pleasures. 
Consumerism becomes empty and leveling, leaving society full of 
possessions but drained of ideals. This is what Vaclav Havel calls 
"totalitarian consumerism." 
A psychologist tells the story of a 
despairing young woman, spent in an endless round of parties, exhausted 
by the pursuit of pleasure. When told she should simply stop, she 
responded, "You mean I don't have to do what I want to do?" 
As author George MacDonald once wrote, "The one principle of hell is 'I am my own.'" 
And answer to this looming crisis?  A return to our roots to, our heritage as a society and civilization, to Christianity and it's truths about man and a society.
Make
 no mistake: This humanizing, civilizing influence is the 
Judeo-Christian heritage. It is a heritage brought to life anew in each 
generation by men and women whose lives are transformed by the living 
God and filled with holy conviction. 
Despite the failures of 
some of its followers--the crusades and inquisitions--this heritage has 
laid the foundations of freedom in the West. It has established a 
standard of justice over both men and nations. It has proclaimed a 
higher law that exposes the pretensions of tyrants. It has taught that 
every human soul is on a path of immortality, that every man and woman 
is to be treated as the child of a King. 
This muscular faith has
 motivated excellence in art and discovery in science. It has 
undergirded an ethic of work and an ethic of service. It has tempered 
freedom with internal restraint, so our laws could be permissive while 
our society was not. 
Christian conviction inspires public 
virtue, the moral impulse to do good. It has sent legions into battle 
against disease, oppression, and bigotry. It ended the slave trade, 
built hospitals and orphanages, tamed the brutality of mental wards and 
prisons. 
In every age it has given divine mercy a human face in 
the lives of those who follow Christ--from Francis of Assisi to the 
great social reformers Wilberforce and Shaftesbury to Mother Teresa to 
the tens of thousands of 
Prison Fellowship volunteers who take hope to the captives--and who are the true recipients of this award. 
Christian
 conviction also shapes personal virtue, the moral imperative to be 
good. It subdues an obstinate will. It ties a tether to self-interest 
and violence. 
Finally, Christian conviction provides a 
principled belief in human freedom. As Lord Action explained, "Liberty 
is the highest political end of man...[But] no country can be free 
without religion. It creates and strengthens the notion of duty. If men 
are not kept straight by duty, they must be by fear. The more they are 
kept by fear, the less they are free. The greater the strength of duty, 
the greater the liberty." 
The kind of duty to which Action 
refers is driven by the most compelling motivation. I and every other 
Christian have experienced it. It is the duty that flows from gratitude 
to God that He would send His only Son to die so we might live. 
But even more fundamentally, to truly strike at the heart of the situation we need to return to the enduring revolution of the cross and resurrection and all that entails.
Admittedly
 the signs are not auspicious, as I have been at pains to show, and it 
is easy to become discouraged. But a Christian has neither the reason 
nor the right. For history's cadence is called with a confident voice. 
The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob reigns. His plan and purpose rob 
the future of its fears. 
By the Cross He offers hope, by the 
Resurrection He assures His triumph. This cannot be resisted or delayed.
 Mankind's only choice is to recognize Him now or in the moment of 
ultimate judgment. Our only decision is to welcome His rule or to fear 
it. 
But this gives everyone hope. For this is a vision beyond a 
vain utopia or a timid new world order. It is the vision of an Enduring 
Revolution. One that breaks more than the chains of tyranny, it breaks 
the chains of sin and death. And it proclaims a liberation that the 
cruelest prison cannot contain. 
The Templeton Prize is awarded 
for progress in religion. In a technological age, we often equate 
progress with breaking through barriers in science and knowledge. But 
progress does not always mean discovering something new. Sometimes it 
means rediscovering wisdom that is ancient and eternal. Sometimes, in 
our search for advancement, we find it only where we began. The greatest
 progress in religion today is to meet every nation's most urgent need: a
 revolution that begins in the human heart. It is the Enduring 
Revolution. 
In the aftermath of the tragedy in Waco, Texas, and 
terrorist bombings in New York, we heard dire warnings, even from the 
president of the United States, of religious extremism. But that, with 
due respect, is not the world's gravest threat. Far more dangerous is 
the decline of true religion and of its humanizing values in our daily 
lives. No ideology--not even liberal democracy--is sufficient. Every 
noble hope is empty apart from the Enduring Revolution. 
This 
revolution reaches across centuries and beyond politics. It confounds 
the ambitions of kings and rewards the faith of a child. It clothes 
itself in the rags of common lives, then emerges with sudden splendor. 
It violates every jaded expectation with the paradox of its power. 
The
 evidence of its power is humility. The evidence of its conquest is 
peace. The evidence of its triumph is service. But that still, small 
voice of humility, of peace, of service becomes a thundering judgment 
that shakes every human institution to its foundation. 
The 
Enduring Revolution teaches that freedom is found in submission to a 
moral law. It says that duty is our sharpest weapon against fear and 
tyranny. This revolution raises an unchanging and eternal moral 
standard--and offers hope to everyone who fails to reach it. This 
revolution sets the content of justice--and transforms the will to 
achieve it. It builds communities of character--and of compassion. 
On
 occasion, God provides glimpses of this glory. I witnessed one in an 
unlikely place--a prison in Brazil like none I've ever seen. 
Twenty
 years ago in the city of San Jose dos Campos, a prison was turned over 
to two Christian laymen. They called it Humaita, and their plan was to 
run it on Christian principles. 
The prison has only two 
full-time staff; the rest of the work is done by inmates. Every prisoner
 is assigned another inmate to whom he is accountable. In addition, 
every prisoner is assigned a volunteer family from the outside that 
works with him during his term and after his release. Every prisoner 
joins a chapel program, or else takes a course in character development.
 
When I visited Humaita, I found the inmates 
smiling--particularly the murderer who held the keys, opened the gates, 
and let me in. Wherever I walked I saw men at peace. I saw clean living 
areas. I saw people working industriously. The walls were decorated with
 biblical sayings from Psalms and Proverbs. 
Humaita has an 
astonishing record. Its recidivism rate is 4 percent compared to 75 
percent in the rest of Brazil and the United States. How is that 
possible? 
I saw the answer when my inmate guide escorted me to 
the notorious punishment cell once used for torture. Today, he told me, 
that block houses only a single inmate. As we reached the end of the 
long concrete corridor and he put the key into the lock, he paused and 
asked, "Are you sure you want to go in?" 
"Of course," I replied 
impatiently. "I've been in isolation cells all over the world." Slowly 
he swung open the massive door, and I saw the prisoner in that 
punishment cell: a crucifix, beautifully carved by the Humaita 
inmates--the prisoner Jesus, hanging on the cross. 
"He's doing time for all the rest of us," my guide said softly. 
In
 that cross carved by loving hands is a holy subversion. It heralds 
change more radical than mankind's most fevered dreams. Its followers 
expand the boundaries of a kingdom that can never fail. A shining 
kingdom that reaches into the darkest corners of every community, into 
the darkest corners of every mind. A kingdom of deathless hope, of 
restless virtue, of endless peace. 
This work proceeds, this hope remains, this fire will not be quenched: The Enduring Revolution of the Cross of Christ. 
It's a powerful message worth studying.