By Abdul-Hakim Shabazz, Esq.


Micah Beckwith didn’t become lieutenant governor because of a grassroots revival or some divine awakening. He rose because he engineered a church-delegate takeover the Indiana GOP never saw coming. While party leaders were busy planning life after Eric Holcomb, Micah was doing his best Emperor Palpatine impression—yes, I’m contractually obligated to include a Star Wars reference—quietly recruiting pew-loyal delegates who stormed the state convention like Sunday-school stormtroopers.

By the time the political establishment realized what was happening, he had effectively turned the convention into his own tabernacle and declared the Statehouse his new sanctuary.

Which brings us to the version of Micah Beckwith we see today:

He is not the biblical prophet Micah.

He is Cotton Mather of the Salem Witch Trials—except with WiFi, a ring light, and an $87,000 taxpayer-funded Chevy Tahoe.

This is the man who governs not through prudence or policy, but through spectral evidence, moral panic, and the political theology of “I saw something in a vision, therefore it must be true.”   Consider the Book of Micah’s track record.

There’s a grand jury investigation into ghost employment.  An AI-generated topless image floating around his office.  A formal reprimand from Senate President Pro Tem Rod Bray—one of the most fundamentally decent elected officials in Indiana—after Beckwith was caught using AI glasses to record private meetings and live-posting during session like the Statehouse was his personal revival tent. A former senior adviser described his office as a “hymn-book frat house,” where political messaging, prayer circles, and taxpayer resources all blended together like it was one big campus ministry retreat funded by the General Assembly.

But it’s in the rhetoric where Micah truly steps into his full Salem cosplay.

He has called LGBTQ Hoosiers and pro-choice residents “demonic.”  He’s resurrected the “Jezebel spirit” like it’s still 1692. He defended the Three-Fifths Compromise as a “great move.” He tried to defund a college newspaper that receives zero tax dollars. He cheered a library purge that would’ve made a Puritan deacon blush.  And his Haitian-immigration commentary was so catastrophically off-base that even his conservative supporters quietly invoked Proverbs 17:28:
“Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent.”

But Micah never keeps silent. Ever.

When the son of his church’s lead pastor was arrested on child sex-crime charges, Beckwith didn’t call for accountability or transparency. He didn’t stand with victims. He didn’t speak with moral clarity.

Instead, Cotton Mather 2.0 blamed it on “the work of the devil.” Bonfires for others. Fog machines for himself. It’s the oldest trick in the Salem playbook:
When the scandal touches your own circle, declare it a spiritual attack and hope the villagers look away.

Matthew 7:5 has been standing by politely the entire time:
“First take the log out of your own eye…”

And if Revelation marks the Beast as 666, Micah—ever the dramatic performer—lands squarely at 667: The Beast Plus One.

So it wasn’t surprising when he jumped on Facebook this week to call yours truly a “liberal agitator.”  That would be news to Mitch Daniels, Eric Holcomb, Greg Ballard, Joe Hogsett, Evan Bayh, and Vop Osili—none of whom have ever mistaken me for a liberal anything.  But accuracy has never interfered with Micah’s theology or his TikTok ministry.  There he stands, livestream running, Tahoe idling behind him like the world’s most confused burning bush, shouting into the algorithm that I’m the threat.

He calls me liberal. Most of Indiana calls him a punchline. And scripture—long before Hamilton East Library ever did—saw him coming.

Isaiah 5:20 leaves us with the final word:
“Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness.”

Amen.

And beware the prophets who see witches everywhere but never in the mirror.  Now if you excuse me, I have to party like it’s 1699.



Abdul-Hakim Shabazz is the editor and publisher of Indy Politics. He is also an attorney licensed in Indiana and Illinois. And for the record — this isn’t personal. It’s just business.