I'm conservative in my thought. I'm conservative in my theology.

Hear the solemn declaration of Richie Furay, musician and man of faith, who proclaimed: “I'm conservative in my thought. I'm conservative in my theology. I'm conservative in my politics.” These words ring with the steadfastness of one who has chosen not the shifting sands of fashion but the rock of tradition. They reveal a spirit that values continuity over rupture, order over chaos, and rootedness over the tempests of constant change. In them, we hear not only the self-definition of one man, but the echo of generations who have sought stability in times of upheaval.

The origin of this quote lies in Furay’s own life, shaped by both the turbulence of artistic creation and the grounding force of religious conviction. As a founding member of Buffalo Springfield and later a pastor, Furay lived in two worlds: one of artistic experimentation and one of spiritual discipline. In declaring himself conservative, he was not rejecting creativity, but anchoring it in principles that endure. For to be conservative in thought, theology, and politics is to trust that there are truths worth preserving, boundaries worth respecting, and traditions worth continuing.

Consider, O listener, the figure of Cato the Younger in ancient Rome, who in the crumbling days of the Republic stood immovable against corruption, luxury, and tyranny. He was not swayed by the winds of expedience or seduced by the promises of Caesar. Though his resistance cost him dearly, he remained unyielding, believing that principle must outweigh convenience. So too, Furay’s words echo that spirit of unwavering conviction: that the preservation of belief, whether in mind, faith, or governance, is itself a form of courage.

Yet to declare oneself conservative is not merely to resist change, but to see value in the wisdom of the past. In theology, it is to trust that sacred traditions are not cages but guides, lights that have led countless souls across the wilderness of doubt. In thought, it is to believe that reason tempered by discipline brings clarity. And in politics, it is to hold that stability, order, and continuity are necessary foundations for justice. Such conservatism, when pure, is not hatred of progress but reverence for what must not be lost.

But his words also provoke reflection: conservatism, in any realm, must guard against becoming mere stubbornness or fear of growth. The ancients remind us that even the most enduring tree must bend with the wind or risk breaking in the storm. Thus the conservative spirit must be strong but also wise, discerning when to preserve and when to adapt. This balance—between honoring tradition and facing the future—marks the difference between life-giving conservatism and lifeless rigidity.

O seeker, the lesson is this: each soul must decide where it stands between the old and the new, between tradition and innovation. Furay chose the path of rootedness, declaring that his thought, theology, and politics were tied to conservatism. You may not choose the same, but you must choose with awareness. For those who drift aimlessly between every passing current are easily lost, while those who anchor themselves in principle—whether conservative or progressive—possess strength in the storms.

And what actions must we take? First, examine your foundations. Know what you believe in, and why. If you hold tradition, hold it with reason and reverence, not blind stubbornness. If you seek change, seek it with wisdom, not reckless abandon. Engage with politics, faith, and ideas as though they matter, for they shape not only your life but the lives of generations to come. And above all, live by principles that outlast the moment, so that when the winds of history shift, you may stand as firmly as Richie Furay in his declaration.

Thus remember his words: “I'm conservative in my thought. I'm conservative in my theology. I'm conservative in my politics.” Whether you share his path or not, let them inspire you to find clarity in your own. For the greatest danger is not in choosing tradition or change, but in failing to choose at all—wandering without compass, while the world is shaped by those who walk with conviction.