The Golden Rule is included in God’s general revelation to humanity. No reasonable parent would accuse a public school of religious indoctrination for teaching it as this early childhood teacher did. What makes Christianity unique is the radical extent to which we are commanded to apply this rule. Jesus, who was there when we were formed from the dust of the earth, understood human nature, which includes our tendency to think the golden rule only applies to certain people, our tribe, people we like. That is why he commanded his followers to preach the gospel by example, showing that the Golden Rule applies to all people, including our enemies. “If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? (Matthew 5:46)” So I was disturbed to hear of two influential Christian leaders who each wrote books arguing that empathy is sinful.

I first became aware of these books—The Sin of Empathy by Joe Rigney and Toxic Empathy by Allie Beth Stuckey—through Straight White American Jesus, a podcast dedicated to challenging Christian Nationalism, but which is unfortunately also hostile to Christianity. I like listening to it because while I don’t agree with their hostility toward the Bible, I share their anger about how so-called Christians have amassed political power which they have used to harm “the least of these” in our society. I also think listening to people hostile to your worldview is essential for cultivating humility. While I don’t agree with the conclusion the hosts of this show often come to—that Christianity is rotten to the core—I do think that for Christians to send them hate mail, or refuse to listen with humility to their criticisms and acknowledge the grains of truth in them suggests insecurity in their faith.

Co-host Bradley Onishi devoted a three-part series to examining these books on the sin of empathy. He said he paid for these books so listeners wouldn’t have to, but given this podcast’s hostility toward Christianity, I read both books for myself. Joe Rigney argues that society and the church have fallen prey to what he calls untethered empathy, “concern for the hurting and vulnerable that is unmoored from truth, goodness and reality.” Allie Beth Stuckey makes a similar argument with the term “toxic empathy” which mandates that we must not only share someone’s feelings, but affirm their feelings and choices as valid, justified and good” (Page XIII).

To be fair, I confess that in the naïve, early days of my revulsion toward Donald Trump, and my awareness of Christian Nationalism, I went all in with the progressives. The Democrats were the good people, and the Republicans were the bad people. Sure I was familiar with the slogan that Jesus is neither a Democrat nor a Republican, but given the hateful rhetoric and cruel policies of the alt-right, led by Donald Trump, surely if He returned in our day, He would vote with the Democrats. With time and experience however, I have come to appreciate that there are grains of truth in the conservative criticism of progressives. For example, while people with gender dysphoria should be treated with compassion, the progressive trend of introducing yourself with your preferred pronouns or including them in your email signatures is taking things too far in my opinion. While progressives are right that there are bad cops who enforce the law more brutally with people of color, social justice is not achieved by defunding the police, and this trend actually made people of color less safe. I will even concede that some progressives are hostile to Christianity, mocking or re-interpreting our belief in the supernatural, portraying our God as a narcissistic authoritarian based on a shallow reading of the Bible. However for Joe Rigney and Allie Beth Stuckey, there is no nuance: in fact, Joe Rigney despises the idea of nuance. Referencing Aaron Renn’s analysis of religiosity in America, Rigney says, “In neutral world (from roughly 1964 to 2014) credibility was currency, and it was fostered by culture engagers in being winsome not hostile, compassionate not harsh, nuanced, not black and white. This was to maintain a seat at the pluralistic table and to differentiate themselves from cultural warriors on the right. But the cost was cultural engagers came to live their lives and conduct their ministries under the progressive gaze” (chapter 4). In disparaging nuance, they also reveal a lack of humility. Though they sprinkle in a few sentences of lip service to the truth that Jesus is neither a Democrat nor a Republican, their books are really little more than right-wing propaganda masquerading as biblical exegesis. For example, in a chapter on toxic empathy as it relates to immigration policy, Allie Beth Stuckey argues that Democrats used to oppose illegal immigration, and the need for immigration reform used to be a point of bipartisan agreement. But when Donald Trump entered the Presidential race in 2015, ran on stopping illegal immigration, and complained about the drugs and crime that crossed the southern border, the accusations of racism and bigotry from the media and Democrats were intense, and the Democratic party’s stance on immigration has been shifting ever-further left in recent years. It is true that in the name of political gamesmanship, party platforms have shifted throughout our history. And while the Bible commands us to show compassion to foreigners, it is true that God also ordains borders and laws to maintain order in this fallen world. Christians can differ in good faith about how to hold these truths in tension. But Allie Beth Stuckey misrepresents the facts. Sure, Democrats may have overcompensated during President Biden’s term, but Donald Trump was not campaigning on sensible immigration reform. He was campaigning on nativism and hate. It is a massive understatement to say that Trump just complained about drugs and crime crossing the southern border: according to the dictionary, complain is used in a relatively benign casual manner to grumble or express annoyance about something like the weather or the noise in the hallway. Donald Trump did not just complain. He argued that perhaps a few Mexicans were good people, but by and large, Mexico was only sending us rapists and drug dealers, and he made these and many other xenophobic generalizations with a tone of passionate hatred in his voice that I could feel even without being able to see his face. And Trump’s xenophobic remarks, and dehumanization of immigrants provided a permission structure for so-called Christians to justify their own hateful rhetoric toward immigrants, even to the point of bearing false witness, accusing Haitian immigrants of eating pets. I am also old enough to remember how George W. Bush, while recognizing the need to control the flow of immigrants across the border, also advocated compassion, even a path to citizenship for those who had come illegally but made a life here. The need for sensible immigration reform was a point of bipartisan agreement, but so was the importance of basic human decency. Donald Trump completely abandoned any notion of such compassion, and is now even trying to deport Afghani Christians granted protection and a new home in this country after Afghanistan fell to the Taliban. None of this essential nuance is addressed by Allie Beth Stuckey or Joe Rigney. They all but declare that their political agenda is in complete agreement with God, while the progressive agenda is demonic. But you know you are reading a Christian Nationalist gospel when the Bible verses they cite to support their positions are drawn from the Old Testament, especially the books of the Law, or from Paul’s letters taken out of their cultural context, but almost never any of the words of Jesus himself. What if applying the whole counsel of Scripture as true Christians are commanded to doo—the new is in the old concealed, the old is in the new revealed—requires nuance? Joe Rigney argues for example that Christians disobey God when they show pity for people living a sinful lifestyle based on Deuteronomy 13:10 where God told the Israelites they must show no pity to anyone who worships other gods, even if that person is their own mother, or brother or wife: “Stone him to death, because he tried to turn you away from the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.” Rigney’s argument is that showing empathy to someone living in sin is like jumping into a raging current to save a drowning man, but in so doing, drowning yourself. Yet he never follows up with the nuance of the new covenant. While the Law pointed to Jesus and revealed our sins, Jesus exposes the whole truth, that we are all living in sin. We all worship other gods, which in our day could include money, power, pleasure, even our children, and as such we all deserve to be stoned. Only someone who has not sinned has the right to throw a stone at another sinner. Jesus called us to emulate him, and while he would have been justified in stoning the woman brought to him who had been caught committing adultery, as he was without sin, he showed her mercy instead. He did not minimize the sin of adultery: in fact he told her to leave her life of sin behind (John 8:11). But in waiting until all the Pharisees and teachers of the law had left with their tails between their legs as they realized Jesus had outsmarted them, he addressed this woman from a place of genuine love, not self-righteously applying Mosaic law. That is what we are called to do as it relates to our day, reading the whole counsel of Scripture, with an open mind unclouded by a political ideology, letting the Holy Spirit guide us to minister to one family member, neighbor or friend at a time, as part of a genuine, loving relationship that takes the time to know the whole person, rather than seeing them only for their sins. In this excellent analysis, Russel Moore also points out that without empathy, we see sin only in abstract terms. David was not aware of the grievous nature of the sin he had committed in having Uriah killed in battle and stealing his wife, until the prophet Nathan told the vivid parable of the rich man who stole the one and only ewe lamb of a poor man to cook for his guest (2 Samuel 12:1-13). This vivid parable disarmed David of the human tendency toward intellectual justification, so that Nathan could reveal David’s sin through the righteous anger David felt toward the rich man and the empathy he felt for the poor man in the parable. In other words, to turn off our capacity for empathy as these influential pastors want us to do is to unplug from the Holy Spirit who speaks into our conscience, making us aware of our own sins. All sin separates us from God, not just the sins highlighted by our chosen political ideology.

But the most chilling give-away that these influential religious leaders are really promoting Christian Nationalism is in their agreement with Elon Musk. In an episode of Joe Rogan’s podcast, Elon Musk commented that the fundamental bug of Western civilization is empathy. I agree with Bradley Onishi’s analysis that what Elon Musk is really getting at with this comment is that the fundamental bug of Western civilization is seeing every person as having the same dignity, worth and rights, and this fits with other comments Elon Musk has made about the parasitic class. How do so-called Christians justify their agreement with Elon Musk? Bradley Onishi’s answer to this question is also compelling: the Doctrine of Original Sin. According to Bradley Onishi, “If you are a fallen, condemnable being, then there is a good chance that seeing things through your eyes, feeling the way that you might feel, understanding your perspective is going to be to enter into the body, the skin, the experience of somebody who is led astray by their fallen nature and the temptations of the devil rather than God. So it is up to us, those who are born again in Christ, walking in his righteousness and who have the armor of God to protect us from our flesh to make sure we don’t think ourselves into their experience and don’t allow ourselves to be tempted by it.” In essence, these Christian Nationalists are saying, “I’m different than you. I’m a different kind than you” rhetoric that is eerily similar to that of Elon Musk, and is motivated not by genuine Christian love, but anxiety over a perceived loss of social status. If Bradley Onishi’s analysis of the motives of these religious leaders is correct, they have a very twisted, unbiblical understanding of the Doctrine of Original Sin. The Bible is clear that we were all once fallen, condemnable beings: “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God, not by works, so no one can boast (Ephesians 2:8-9). Of course, God’s grace is supposed to transform us so that we are not tempted by worldly sin anymore, but the reality is that our fallen nature plagues us to some extent our whole lives: our sanctification will never be complete this side of heaven. We will still make mistakes and fall short of Christ’s righteous standards, even while our salvation is secure. But to claim that we are morally superior to our LGBTQ acquaintances, or neighbors who may have crossed the border illegally is to commit the most grievous sin of all, the sin that caused the fall of man to begin with: pride. Empathy is not toxic or sinful. It is the necessary soil for cultivating humility, and humility is essential for those who truly desire to follow Christ.

That Reminds me of a Song: Jon Guerra’s song Nothing to Say to The New York Times is written from Jesus’s point of view, and is a poignant reminder of who Jesus really is. Just as he had nothing to say when Pontious Pilate asked him if he was king of the Jews, the song imagines that he would have nothing to say to The New York Times (the left), or Fox News (the right). He would not self-righteously offer life lessons or advice to the harlot or the tax collector. He has no interest in rallies or vote tallies. He simply offers forgiveness and love, and asks us to examine our hearts and come to our own conclusion to the question He asked his disciples, “who do you say that I am?” Jesus really is neither a democrat nor a Republican, and earthly governments will always fall short of God’s righteous standards, regardless of which party is in power. But what this song so beautifully conveys is that empathy is not what is sinful or toxic. Jesus taught that what is toxic is the self-righteous, judgmental hypocrisy of believing that God is completely in agreement with your tribe, your politics. Only via genuine, nonpartisan empathy can we cultivate the humility necessary to avoid this toxin.

For those unfamiliar with this book, the entire book is a dream in which the protagonist finds himself in Hell. In his dream, hell is not the traditional lake of fire, but rather a dreary town where it is always twilight, and always raining. The people have no material needs because they can just imagine the house they want and it is built for them. But there is no civic life because the people are quarrelsome, and the town is continuously spreading because people move further away from each other. But most important of all, the people in Hell are only ghosts. For the time being at least, they are allowed to go on holidays. Most choose to return to earth, perhaps to haunt a house that once belonged to them, or hang around a library to see if anyone is still reading their work. But a few take the opportunity to board a bus and visit heaven.

Heaven fills the bus with brilliant light, and for the time being, it is perpetually in a state of eager anticipation, as if it were two minutes before sunrise. The implication is that after God’s final judgment, the darkness of night will fully descend on the town that is hell, surprising its cultured inhabitants who were still convinced that they were on the brink of a new dawn, while in Heaven, the people, who are solid and real, eagerly anticipate the moment when the sun will rise and a new day will spring forth in God’s full glory. The message of this book is simultaneously fascinating and sobering to me. A common question that skeptics raise in opposition to Christianity is, “how could a loving God send people to hell?” C.S. Lewis’s compelling dream narrative with theology expertly woven in, answers this question. God does not send people to hell. People freely choose it by their attitude, and the state of their heart during this life. In the words of the Teacher the protagonist meets in heaven, “That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, “No future bliss can make up for it,” not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory. And of some sinful pleasure they say “Let me have but this and I’ll take the consequences”: little dreaming how damnation will spread back and back into their past and contaminate the pleasure of the sin. Both processes begin even before death” (Page 81). In his dream, almost everyone he observed ultimately chose to get back on the bus and return to hell. The only exception was a man possessed by a demon who allowed his heavenly mentor to kill it, at which time, he was transformed from a ghost to a solid man, and the demon transformed into a beautiful stallion causing all of heaven to rejoice.

I think it is significant that C.S. Lewis was an atheist who called himself “a prodigal who is brought in kicking, struggling, resentful and darting his eyes in every direction for a chance of escape” (Surprised by Joy Page 294). Years ago a friend and I were commiserating over our struggle to comprehend math concepts when we were in school, and she said she found that the best math teachers were the ones who also struggled with math at one time. People who have always been math geniuses may understand the concepts, but they cannot empathize with people whose minds were wired for different abilities, and therefore often lack the patience or compassion to teach them. Similarly, sometimes I think theologians who have been Christian their entire lives use a lot of jargon about glorifying God or Christ dwelling in us that is incomprehensible, even off-putting to the secular world we are supposed to evangelize. Such jargon can also be perceived as dismissive, even judgmental to Christians who want to believe but are going through a season of doubt. But C.S. Lewis, who knows what it is to be an outsider to Christianity, contemplates the concepts of Heaven and Hell in accessible language.

Most theologians I have read also spend too much time in my opinion engaging in academic arguing with one another on relatively minor points. Is hell a literal place of eternal torment—the traditional view—or are people punished for a time, depending on the nature of the sins committed in this life and then cease to exist? Is universal salvation or purgatory a possibility? Scripturally grounded arguments can be made in defense of each of these views. I personally am not convinced by the idea of universal salvation, given the frequency in the Bible of God’s commitment to vanquish evil. Although we fallible humans are commanded by Christ to view no one we interact with as irredeemable, the Bible is clear that in the final judgment, God in his infinite, infallible wisdom, will determine that some people are irredeemable, and as C.S. Lewis explains it, would actually be unhappy in heaven. I also read a quote from T. S. Eliot that resonated with me: “I had far rather walk, as I do, in daily terror of eternity, than feel that this was a children’s game in which all the contestants would get equally worthless prizes in the end” (Heaven, Randy Alcorn, Page 25). Somehow I know in my heart that this life isn’t going to turn out to be a pointless children’s game, but as for the specifics of the rewards and punishments, perhaps we weren’t meant to know. What God reveals unambiguously, and what He intended for us to focus on right now is the big picture: “Because God is the source of all good and Hell is the absence of God, then Hell must also be the absence of all good. Likewise, community, fellowship, and friendship are good, rooted in the triune God himself. But in the absence of God, Hell will have no community, no camaraderie, no fellowship” (Heaven, Page 28). C.S. Lewis illustrates this truth vividly, and also explains the attitudes and life choices that will determine our ultimate destination.

What does this have to do with Christian Nationalism, and why was I compelled to read this book the second weekend into the second Trump administration? Let me be very clear. The purpose of this post is not to suggest that Donald Trump, or Elon Musk, or J.D. Vance are going to Hell. Although I do not see evidence of spiritual fruit in their lives, you could say God has classified information. It is not our place to speculate on anyone’s destiny. And even if these people are on the road to destruction right now, they are still alive. We should pray that their eyes might be opened. It is never too late to repent in this life.

I do find it interesting that C.S. Lewis imagines Napoleon (who died in 1821) in Hell, pacing back and forth continuously in his mansion ranting about who was at fault for his defeat. But I am scared to be that presumptuous because I was convicted numerous times while reading this book, seeing a little bit of myself in all of the people in Hell, proof that we are all sinners who can only be saved by God’s grace. That weekend, after a week of being required to make cold calls to promote our call center services, which I have come to hate passionately, I was especially convicted by the ghost woman who did nothing but grumble. As the protagonist’s teacher explained, “It begins with a grumbling mood, and yourself distinct from it: Perhaps criticizing it. And yourself, in a dark hour, you may will that mood, embrace it. Ye can repent and come out of it again. But there may come a day when you can do that no longer. Then there will be no you left to criticize the mood, nor even to enjoy it, but just the grumble itself going on forever like a machine” (Page 90). We all fall short, even after accepting Christ, but the good news, as the protagonist’s teacher explains it, is that if there is the tiniest spark, the faintest hope of repentance, the heavenly teachers will patiently blow on the ashes until the fire roars to life. But when there is only a pile of ash, that is when it must be swept up. Or to use a current analogy, if there is the tiniest morsel of good apple in the ball of worms, the heavenly mentors will search for it: it is only when we are clearly nothing but a ball of worms when the teachers will not search the pile forever—sorry, couldn’t resist. In real life, I believe that if someone exhibits the tiniest spark of a longing for Christ, they will never see Hell to begin with, and for those who have truly accepted Christ, the Holy Spirit makes us aware when we sin so that we can make a course correction long before our spark is lost.

But I believe Christian Nationalism is a road to destruction. In Donald Trump, I see a man who is obsessed with revenge, unable or unwilling to forgive anyone who ever injured his pride, and concerned only with holding onto power, to the point that even now in this life, I don’t think he has a concept of what real joy is. Like I said, he is still alive, and true Christians should pray that God might soften his heart, and we should not allow our loathsome view of Donald Trump to harden our hearts against this misguided human being created in God’s image. As things stand now, I don’t think Donald Trump would find happiness in Heaven, where all of his power, wealth and influence in this world will mean nothing. In the people who are aware of his bad character but use him to implement policies favorable to Christianity, they are like a ghost the protagonist’s teacher described, who could not admit that he had mistaken the means for the end. Didn’t Jesus warn that you cannot harvest good fruit from a bad tree? As a result of their blind loyalty to Donald Trump, I think their eyes have been blinded to the true teachings of Christianity, and as things stand now, they may not be happy in heaven where there will be no tolerance for self-righteousness or white supremacy, and where neither their American identity, nor America’s hegemony in this world will mean a thing. In Elon Musk, I see a man fully invested in the worship of Mammon. Despite being the richest man in the world, his lust for more money is insatiable, to the point that his words and actions as the head of the Department of Government Efficiency reveal a sociopathic disregard for “the least of these.” As it stands now, he will not be happy in Heaven where this staggering wealth will mean nothing.

Our hearts should simultaneously break for these people, who are so blatantly choosing wealth and power in this life which is but a mist over the everlasting joy of Heaven, but also tremble with reverent fear over the times we, in less extreme but no less sinful ways, succumb to worldly temptation. Thank you Lord for graciously saving me, giving me a spark of longing for true, lasting joy. Though I don’t always behave accordingly, I really do want to spend eternity in your presence, to experience that glorious sunrise on a restored creation, and enjoy everlasting community, fellowship and friendship. Please be with me Lord to make sure that spark never dies, and if it is your will, show me opportunities when I might be your ambassador, and direct misguided travelers to the correct road before it is too late.

That reminds me of a song: As I wrote this, I found myself singing the hymn Morning Has Broken. This version by Cat Stevens is the one I am most familiar with. It could be a song of gratitude and reverence for each new morning we are blessed with in this life, but I believe it could also be an allusion to the glorious bursting forth of that everlasting morning all true Christians eagerly anticipate in a new creation. As I listened to this song, with its beautiful lyrics and joyful instrumentation, I appreciated on an even more visceral level how much I would rather miss out on an opportunity to acquire great wealth, or a powerful position than risk missing out on the privilege of experiencing this glorious morning. “Praise with elation, praise every morning, God’s recreation of the new day!”

During Trump’s first term, I never signed any petitions or contacted my representatives in Congress to urge them to oppose his hateful, reckless policies. What was the point? What difference would my small, insignificant voice that I couldn’t magnify with multi-million dollar campaign contributions make? But this time around, having spent the Biden administration gaining a better understanding of Christian Nationalism from theologians and historians, I am thinking differently.

Isaiah 10:1-2 says, “Woe to those who make unjust laws, to those who issue oppressive decrees, to deprive the poor of their rights and withhold justice from the oppressed of my people, making widows their prey and robbing the fatherless.” These verses are a very fitting description of what Donald Trump, and co-president Elon Musk are doing. Their policies will make the rich even richer while devastating the most vulnerable of society. But since Donald Trump was duly elected in a democracy, we are all responsible for his unjust laws and oppressive decrees, so we all, especially true Christians, are morally obligated to speak out. Our efforts may not make a difference in this world. The Bible is clear that only Christ’s return will vanquish the evil powers and principalities of this world once and for all. Christ does not expect us to save the world. He just expects us to show evidence of spiritual fruit in our lives by boldly, confidently choosing to be on the right side of history. We are all sinners who give into the temptations of this world sometimes and are dependent on Christ’s grace and forgiveness. But overall, did we choose God’s kingdom, or this world? If by God’s grace we were blessed with a high standard of living, did we consider those less fortunate when we made decisions like how to spend our money, or use our God-given talents, or did we think only of our self-interest? If by God’s grace, we were born into the privileged race, gender, religious group, with the right sexual orientation, did we take the Bible seriously and defend the dignity of all humans as all are made in God’s image, or did we buy into the myth that our privileged group is superior to everyone else and favored by God? I speculate that God may judge us by a higher standard than at any other time in human history, because speaking truth to power, championing the cause of “the least of these” is safe and easy in a democracy, and when we are blessed, we are called to be a blessing to others (Genesis 12:2).

On that note, I encourage all readers to consider checking out Faithful America, a grassroots organization whose mission is “putting faith into action for love and social justice.” They send regular updates and have sponsored several petitions you can sign. If you are uneasy as I was at first, start by signing a petition. It is as simple as entering your name, email address and zip code and an optional comment, then clicking the sign button. As pointless as signing a petition may seem, it is surprising how rewarding it feels to know you did something, signed your name to an important cause, and this small step is a confidence booster, a springboard to more substantial actions like contacting your school board or representatives in Congress. Another excellent way you can get involved is to visit Christians Against Christian Nationalism. They are working to start virtual and in-person groups in every state to resist Christian Nationalism at the state and local level.

In this article, Kristin Kobes Du Mez highlighted an article that was recently published in Foreign Affairs, written by Steven Levitsky and Lucan Way. They assert that the breakdown of democracy in this country will not lead to a dictatorship in the classic sense, where opponents are imprisoned, exiled or killed. What we are headed for is what Levitsky and Way call “competitive authoritarianism, a system in which parties compete in elections but the incumbent’s abuse of power tilts the playing field against the opposition.” The cost of publicly opposing the incumbent will rise considerably. Democratic donors and businesses that fund civil rights groups may be subjected to heightened tax and legal scrutiny, and their work may be impeded by arbitrary regulations. Media outlets will likely find themselves mired in costly defamation lawsuits or other legal actions, or face retaliatory policies against their parent companies.

But in New Testament times, classic dictatorships were the only kind of government the people knew. If the people had gathered thousands of signatures to petition for an end to oppressive tax policies, or staged a protest outside the palace, the king would have laughed, then had them exiled, imprisoned or brutally killed. Many early Christians were brutally killed just for refusing to worship the earthly king, and yet they courageously endured, knowing that their earthly persecution was temporary, but heavenly treasure would endure forever. Yet today, even before Trump’s second term began, media outlets censored articles and political cartoons critical of Donald Trump in anticipatory obedience. Most Republicans, many of whom I have heard profess to be Christian in television interviews, and many of whom had the wherewithal to resist eight years ago, are cooperating with Trump this time around. Too many pastors are silent about the cruelty of Trump’s rhetoric and policies so as not to appear political—Reverend Mariann Edgar Budde being the beautiful exception—and some pastors outright agree with Trump’s policies, believing that God saved Trump’s life for a divine purpose. And ordinary Americans are too exhausted and despairing this time around to protest to the extent they did eight years ago.

Our democracy never was perfect, and we have never truly achieved liberty and justice for all. But democracy coupled with our Constitution where our founders enshrined the separation of church and state, is the best of all the imperfect governing options imaginable in this fallen world for the credibility of true Christianity, the kind of Christianity Jesus intended, where the surrounding cultures are free to worship as they choose but can be drawn to Christianity by the radical love, joy and peace that they witness in their Christian friends, neighbors and colleagues, rather than a cultural Christianity based on white supremacy, hypocrisy, domination, coercion. And in a democracy, even one sliding toward competitive authoritarianism, one way we can manifest this love and compassion to a watching world is by speaking truth to power, peacefully protesting and contacting our representatives to oppose policies that will harm those less fortunate even if said harmful policies might lower our taxes.

I will grant that I don’t know what it is like to face a defamation lawsuit, or the prospect of losing a prestigious career you worked hard to reach. But I have studied the Bible enough to notice that while God never promised our lives wouldn’t have troubles—in fact he guaranteed we would have trouble—he tends to reward those who have the courage to say/do what is right, even and especially in the face of worldly opposition. Sometimes people are rewarded in this life, such as was the case with the Hebrew midwives who defied the king’s order to kill the baby boys, and were rewarded with children of their own (Exodus 1:15-21). Of course, it is important to remember this kind of direct transaction by God was unique to that particular moment of Jewish history, but I believe that God still rewards those who do right in subtler but no less profound ways. They may never be able to return to the career status or income level they had, but I believe God would provide what they needed, and it may be that their new career is the new lease on life they didn’t realize how much was desperately needed in their former lives, a career that offers better work/life balance so they can spend more time with loved ones, or better sleep at night knowing they no longer have to compromise with their conscience. Their reputation may be irreparably shattered with old friends and colleagues, but I believe God would reward them with new friends that would surround them with so much love and support that they never look back. Some politicians have expressed fear for the personal safety of themselves or their families, and these fears are understandable. The Foreign Affairs article noted that in Trump’s first term, he wanted to order the army to shoot protesters, something I had forgotten about. In his first term, he was constrained, but in his second term where he was careful to only hire loyalists, he could issue such orders. This would mean the only thing standing between the loss of innocent life, and our constitutional right to peacefully assemble, would be the courage of military servicemen and women willing to defy Trump’s order. In Russia, too many opponents of Vladamir Putin seem to die under suspicious circumstances. I don’t go for fearmongering, but it would be naive to say that could never happen here, given Trump’s admiration for Vladamir Putin. Trump’s decision to pardon 1500 insurrectionists who stormed the Capitol on January 6, 2021 is also disturbing, not only because it adds insult to injury for the police officers who were hurt, and the family members of those who lost their lives as a result of the trauma from that day, but also because it may provide a permission structure that emboldens future perpetrators of violence against political opponents. But as alarming as these new realities are, we still have it far easier than the apostles under Niro, who systematically burned Christians at the stake, or Herod, who had opponents crucified or beheaded. And yet Jesus, who witnessed, and ultimately experienced this brutality firsthand said, “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the one who can destroy both body and soul in hell” (Matthew 10:28). If you profess to be Christian, and you chose a career path that puts you in a position of influence such as a pastor, an attorney in the Department of Justice, a member of the majority party in Congress, or a judge on any court, or even if you are just an ordinary person whose conscience is disturbed by all that is going on, but have been avoiding obedience to this nudging by the Holy Spirit for fear of losing your socioeconomic status, earthly reputation, even your life, perhaps it’s time to start asking hard questions about the sincerity of your faith. “Blessed are you when men hate you, reject your name as evil, because of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. For that is how their fathers treated the prophets. But woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort” (Luke 6:22-24).

The watching secular world, some of whom are my friends and family, are tired of apologetics arguments, sermons, big-budget productions and Bible tracts. They want to see evidence of genuine faith in action, a faith that strives to live out the teachings of Christ, a faith that is courageous in the face of persecution and truly trusts in God’s promises. The murder of innocent Hebrew baby boys was still carried out by other people (Exodus 1:22). We may not be able to ultimately stop the course of evil in our day either. But we can draw inspiration from these midwives and show God, authoritarians who misuse God’s name, and the watching world whose side we are on.

That Reminds me of a Song: As I was writing this, I found myself humming a folk song I first heard from Pete Seeger. Can you guess what it is? Which Side are You On is about a historic event known as the Harlan County War, when for eight years (1931-1939), Kentucky coal miners fought with mine operators and their private sheriffs in a series of skirmishes, executions, bombings and strikes for better wages and safer working conditions. State and federal troops would end up occupying Harlan County more than half a dozen times to restore peace. The song doesn’t go into any detail about the violence—I read about it on Wikipedia—and I agree with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr that violence is never the answer to oppression. But I admire the courage it takes to peacefully strike, trusting that God, via a supportive community, will provide for the basic financial needs of the workers and their families. Of course it is not a religious song, but it is a perfect metaphor for what it means to be Christian. God’s kingdom, and a fight for better working conditions, both require deciding whether you will stand with the oppressors or the oppressed. “there are no neutrals there.” In this moment in history, I imagine God too is asking “which side are you on boys (and girls)? Will you be a lousy scab, or will you be a man?

And when I got to middle school and joined a community choir that collaborated with the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra, life got even more interesting. The conductor often had to remind the orchestra to play softer so that the choir could be heard, and we had to learn to annunciate consonants more intentionally because they are difficult to hear over instruments, no matter how mindfully the orchestra plays. And we had to learn to watch the conductor. If our tempo didn’t match the orchestra, the piece would go off the rails really quick! But the fruit yielded once we worked through these challenges was even more thrilling, like upgrading from a sheet cake, to a layered cake.

I believe God also wants a world that doesn’t sing in unison, but a choir of challenging yet ultimately beautiful harmony. That is why he commanded the first humans to scatter, fill the earth and create diverse languages and cultures. Those first humans too liked singing in unison: they refused to scatter and plotted to build that tower to the heavens to make their name great (Genesis 11:6-9). But God knew that uniformity only leads to evil, so he intervened, confused their languages and scattered them. Thousands of years later, with the internet and modern transportation, the world has in a way been brought back together again. Yet God still desires that we embrace diversity, and we still insist on uniformity which leads to all kinds of evil. We will tolerate diversity to the extent that black and brown people can be exploited for cheap labor, but when they ask that their humanity be recognized, that they be fully accepted into the choir, we stereotype all undocumented immigrants as criminals, or blame DEI (Diversity equity and inclusion) initiatives any time something goes wrong, or imply that because of DEI goals, standards have been lowered, a coded but blatant nod back to pseudoscience that believed that white people were superior to all other races in intelligence. So-called Christian politicians will give lip-service to the biblical concept that all humans are created in God’s image and thus worthy of respect, yet relentlessly push to cut funding to programs like Medicaid, and public schools which the poor, and people with disabilities depend upon. Conservative pastors and so-called Christian politicians spew vitriol calling the LGBTQ lifestyle an abomination, and blaming this class of consenting adults who pose no threat to others, for the degradation of our culture, when numerous high-profile scandals would suggest they have overlooked the planks in their own eyes while fixating on the specks of sawdust in the eyes of others. We view people of other faiths, especially Islam, with suspicion and seek to marginalize them in our culture, when I believe God often uses people of other faiths, even people of no faith at all, to put us to shame by actually living out Jesus’s teachings—caring for creation, proclaiming the intrinsic dignity of every human life—while too many of us supposed Christians are preoccupied with getting the Ten Commandments posted in every classroom, while many of the children in these classrooms come to school hungry.

In 1 Corinthians 13:11, Paul says, “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.” At the root of Christian Nationalism, I fear, is a giant, metaphorical childish temper tantrum. This ideology yearns for life to be simple. It never was of course. The notion that at one time it was, is mostly a figment of the nostalgic imagination, and partly the intentional decisions that kept minorities subservient, women at home, people with disabilities hidden and LGBTQ people closeted, all so that these people wouldn’t complicate the song that white men wanted to sing.

In My Body is Not a Prayer Request, a memoir about ableism in the church, Amy Kenny said something that struck me as relevant to all of our society’s tension surrounding diversity: “We expect there to be variety when it comes to trees, flowers, and animals, just not humans. There are sixty thousand types of trees, three thousand varieties of tulips, and four hundred kinds of sharks. No one claims fringed tulips are better or worse than cup-shaped tulips. They are both beautiful in their distinctiveness” (Page 17). If God cares for the sparrows and the lilies of the field, and yet says that we are more valuable than they, surely it isn’t a stretch to believe that as much as he enjoyed forming creation, with such diverse plant and animal life, he enjoyed creating our human diversity even more, and longs for us to cherish it too.

Singing in harmony isn’t always easy. Some choir rehearsals are downright tedious and frustrating, as the rhythm of one section causes confusion in other sections, a metaphor for how the interests of one group can conflict with the interests of another. Because my adult voice is suited for high notes, I usually get to sing the melody, yet occasionally, the director will ask the sopranos—sometimes even me specifically—to tone it down because the altos cannot be heard, a light-hearted but fitting analogy for the uncomfortable truth that white people who have made themselves dominant for hundreds of years may need to be quiet so that the needs of marginalized people can be heard. Occasionally, I am even asked to sing a lower part. But when the song comes together, I realize all the hard work, the give and take was worth it, as I feel God’s presence every concert when at least one song comes together so beautifully I could cry. I shudder to think what I would have missed had I dropped out of choir the first time I was confronted with a challenge, just as it breaks my heart to think about all the beauty and joy our society is forfeiting due to the ideology of Christian Nationalism and its refusal to even try singing in harmony with people different from them.

That Reminds Me of a Song: That first rehearsal in the fifth grade chorus, we sang All God’s Critters. We never performed it, and I think this was the only rehearsal we ever sang it. I don’t remember if Mrs. Bart was using it to teach us a music concept or if she just wanted a fun song to see how we sounded together. When you are a child, you are not conscious of adult motives like a song or activity’s educational value. But you remember how the song made you feel, and I remember having a blast singing it. I didn’t have the foresight to record this first rehearsal either, and I didn’t like the children’s choir renditions available on YouTube. But this version by Peter Paul and Mary is so cute and fun, a perfect fit for my nostalgic memory of singing it in fifth grade. I especially love the last verse: “Everybody here is a part of the plan / We all get to play in the great critter band / From the eagle in the sky to the whale in the sea / It’s one great symphony.” When you are a child, you aren’t fully conscious of a song’s message either, but now as an adult I realize I was reminded of this song because it is a perfect, fun metaphor to introduce children, at least subconsciously, to the truth that diversity is what makes this world rich and beautiful.

For our family who never supported Donald Trump, finding his amorality and narcissism repugnant, this month has felt strange. I love the way one writer I follow described it, like standing on railroad tracks knowing a train is going to hit you, but there’s nothing you can do about it. “I would link to it but I have read so much I cannot remember where I read it.) As I write this, Donald Trump has officially been president for one hour, so I guess the train is here. There is nothing really to say that hasn’t been said already, but I felt compelled to share some thoughts inspired by the opening number of Wicked that I believe will be valuable in putting this day in perspective and confronting Christian Nationalism, a political movement whose leaders are using Donald Trump to advance their agenda.

It is in our human nature to want to leave a legacy, so perhaps the reason the position of President of the United States is so coveted by some, and campaigned for so nastily is because it offers the ultimate opportunity to leave a legacy unlike any other. In a sense, we all leave a legacy. If you are a parent, your legacy takes the form of the children you raise. In addition to passing on your genes, you pass down your values. If you are a teacher, your legacy is the students you inspire, and if you are lucky, former students will write you about how you left a lasting impression on them. If you were involved in your community, your legacy might be your positive attitude or kindness that inspired others. All these are wonderful legacies, but I once heard a sermon about the reality that the youngest baby at your funeral, in one hundred years or less, will also die, and as such, for most of us, our earthly legacies are not lasting. Most of us fade into the vast anonymity of human history. But as President of the United States, your decisions shape the course of U.S. and to some extent world history. Sadly, Satan takes advantage of this human instinct, this lust for power. Jesus, the perfection of humanity confidently resisted Satan’s temptation (Matthew 4:9) but no human government has ever been capable of fully resisting a bargain with the Devil. They don’t literally bow down and worship Satan of course, but they make decisions based on evil motives like holding onto power, or projecting strength via violence toward other countries, or oppression of their own people. We have never had, and never will have a perfect president because America’s earthly interests usually don’t align with Christ’s righteous standards, especially in the foreign policy realm. Every president panders to constituencies for whom it is politically expedient to serve, while overlooking the most marginalized, especially the extremely poor. I must say I am conflicted as to my opinion of Joe Biden. On the one hand, his big ego—which every president has, and perhaps is necessary to even seek a job as high-stakes as President of the United States—got him into trouble. That debate in June, with his declining health on full display, was painful to watch, and he exhibited poor judgment by choosing to run for a second term, and selfishness in waiting so long to drop out that there wasn’t time for a proper Democratic primary. But Donald Trump is only a few years younger than Biden, and while at surface level he seems more vigorous, he has shown significant cognitive decline over the years as well. So perhaps the shame should rest not on Joe Biden, but on our society who prioritizes superficial physical strength and vigor over content of character. Joe Biden may have had a big ego, but “out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks” (Matthew 12:34) and whenever Joe Biden spoke, he radiated genuine compassion for anyone experiencing hardship, whether it was cancer, financial insecurity, or the loss of a loved one in combat or due to gun violence, this empathy forged through tragedy in his own life. By contrast, whenever Donald Trump opens his mouth, he spews forth cruel rhetoric against immigrants or political opponents, mocks people with disabilities, and helps people experiencing hardship only if it is politically advantageous. And yet evangelicals overwhelmingly chose him again, despite his abandonment of the prolife platform, a sign that he has no true convictions. They still believe his administration can be a tool for “taking America back for God”, despite Jesus’s warning that “A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit” (Matthew 7:18). Much like the Pharisees of Jesus’s day, Christian Nationalists seem to be interested only in legalistic, cultural Christianity, which bears no resemblance to the teachings of Jesus at all. Adding insult to injury has been watching all the charges dropped, despite overwhelming evidence of his corruption, and the sentencing in New York that wasn’t really a sentence at all. Ordinary people spend years in prison for far less serious crimes, and yet Donald Trump gets by with everything.

But I was struck by the optics of Jimmy Carter’s funeral. Jimmy Carter, sadly and ironically, was treated similar to Biden by right-wing evangelicals. Jimmy Carter, another example of a man who was not perfect but lived out his faith, conducting himself with such integrity that he put his modest peanut farm into a blind trust, was scorned by evangelicals for, among other things, holding a summit on family policy that included LGBTQ families. But all hard feelings were left in the past, as even political opponents gave beautiful eulogies testifying to his integrity, his ability to negotiate peace treaties, and his legacy of service to the poor, building houses for Habitat for Humanity and eradicating diseases in third-world countries. Donald Trump attended this funeral because it wouldn’t look good politically if he didn’t, but his presence put the other dignitaries in awkward no-win positions. Depending on the political slant of the media outlet, Barack Obama was praised by some, and criticized by others for talking and laughing with Donald Trump. I couldn’t see the interplay for myself, but I imagine Barack Obama was trying to take the high road, going along with Trump’s banter, probably inappropriate for a funeral, to make the best of an awkward situation. Karen Pence, the wife of Mike Pence, was admired and rebuked, again depending on the slant of the media outlet, for snubbing Trump, which technically, if you take the Bible seriously, might have been wrong, but understandable from a human standpoint. After all, Donald Trump all but encouraged his supporters to hang her husband on January 6, 2021.

Of course, only God is qualified to know the eternal destiny of Donald Trump, and we are all wicked in our own ways and would be condemned if it weren’t for God’s grace and forgiveness through Christ. But as I listened to the coverage of Jimmy Carter’s funeral, and the analysis of the behavior of Barack Obama and Karen Pence, I was reminded of a couple lines from the opening number of the movie Wicked: “A good man scorns the wicked. Through their lives our children learn what we miss when we misbehave.”

Donald Trump may have skirted legal consequences for his actions, but I doubt he is genuinely happy. I have heard derisive laughter from him, in the context of mocking a political opponent, but never the genuine laughter aroused by a silly song, the cute antics of a child or the dog licking your face. In fact, he mocked Kamala Harris for her joyful laugh, viewing it as a sign of weakness. And when you are narcissistic, is it possible to have genuine friends? Big tech CEOs dined with him at Mar-a-Lago and have been involved in his transition, but it is clear they are flattering him because they want favors from him. Republican legislators are loyal to him because they want their party to stay in power. Leaders from other countries flatter him so that he will enact policies favorable to them. But does anyone genuinely enjoy passing an afternoon gulfing or enjoying a meal with him simply for his companionship, expecting nothing in return? Somehow I don’t think so. If I had children, I would love to point out how much joy he is missing out on in the absence of genuine friends, and his inability to laugh, how by being consumed with anger and thoughts of retribution, he is hurting others right now, but ultimately, as he lays on his deathbed, he may come to realize the person hurt most by his behavior was himself. And when he does pass on, I have no doubt the remaining living presidents and first ladies will attend his funeral out of respect, but given how he dehumanized them, will they be able to truly mourn him? And will history remember him kindly, or will he join the pariahs of history for whom any good they may have accomplished was overshadowed by the people they dehumanized? Has he yet contemplated these questions and felt a profound sense of loneliness?

Christian Nationalism is a movement with a spectrum, so it would be unfair to paint all with a broad brush, but I see in the most ardent adherents to the movement an all-consuming anger and hostility similar to that of Donald Trump. They may have genuine friends, but only within their tribe of white evangelicals. They do not welcome immigrants despite the fact that Jesus was a refugee, and they seem to forget that Christ’s blood purchased men for God from every tribe and language and people and nation” (Revelation 5:9). With these Christian nationalists too, repentance is possible with God if they choose to let go of their pride and come to Christ for forgiveness. In eternal life, we will all learn in one way or another what joy we missed because we misbehaved in this life. But we can choose to start behaving better now. As the chaos and immigration raids commence once again, what if we Christians led the way in making the reputation of Christianity beautiful again by speaking up for the marginalized, the immigrant seeking asylum? What if, one community at a time, we could show the world what joy and flourishing they forfeit by choosing the path of nationalism, defined by hostility and resentment, instead of Christ’s path of inclusion and love?

I remember one summer day in particular when I was eight years old. Mom and Dad were both at work, and my sister (six years older) was babysitting. I was a bit of a weird kid, a little more introspective than most kids my age, and that day, it was starting to occur to me—though I didn’t quite know how to verbalize it at the time—that what I was feeling was not boredom in the sense of having nothing to do, but a deep, abiding restlessness, a nagging sense that there had to be more to life than the endless school years of pointless worksheets, followed by summers of silly craft projects, children’s books and playing on the swing set. I wanted to do something real, something exciting, something meaningful. In other words, I was already contemplating in a childish way that universal human question: what is the meaning of life? Unable to articulate verbally exactly what I was feeling, I remember whining to my sister, “I want to do something I have never done before.” “Then do something you have never done before,” my sister said in a tone that clearly indicated annoyance with her little sister. I don’t remember how I ended up passing the time that day, but for the most part, I let the subject drop for the remainder of my childhood. Maybe the feeling would go away once I grew up and was allowed to do real work that made a difference in the real world rather than pointless school work that would be thrown into the recycling bin at the end of each semester. But in the adult world, I would discover that most jobs, though they may occasionally present opportunities to make a lasting difference in the world—or at least for one starfish as the parable goes—are mostly bureaucratic and ultimately pointless. And thus this restlessness is like a lifelong virus. It can be masked somewhat, but this side of heaven there is no cure. During the school year, children relieve its symptoms by rebelling—misbehaving in class or deciding not to do their homework. (I will neither confirm nor deny that I was one of the kids who decided not to do my homework.) During the summer, they mask it by passing the time doing a craft project, playing on the swing set, or escaping into a silly book or video game. During their working years, responsible adults like my parents learned to accept, and taught us kids to accept that the mundaneness of everyday life is an unavoidable reality. They intuitively lived out a modern take on the book of Ecclesiastes. The most you can hope for from life is a job that pays a fair wage, with a good company where your coworkers are pleasant and your boss treats everyone fairly. Despite what TV or social media might lead us to believe, it is actually extremely rare for people to land a job getting paid to do what they love. You go to work to pay the bills, keep your nose to the grindstone while you are there, come home and cherish time with family, finding time to pursue what you enjoy on evenings and weekends. That is a good life. Unfortunately, less responsible adults mask their restlessness by living beyond their means, doing the bare minimum in their jobs, indulging in shallow entertainment like reality TV, or self-medicating with junk food, pornography, drugs or alcohol. Middle-of-the-road adults like myself cope with boredom by getting overly excited anticipating man-made holiday traditions—singing Christmas music in October. As I write this, it is December 26 and I am coping with that annual post-Christmas malaise I feel every year. The week of Christmas, but especially Christmas Eve and Christmas Day always feels like a slice of heaven on Earth, as all society pauses from the routine of work to eat special food, play board games as a family, pack into church and sing joyful Christmas songs, and I have always found it difficult to come down from that emotional mountaintop and resume ordinary life.

And since the reelection of Donald Trump, I have read some fascinating commentaries arguing that boredom at the societal level may explain the “burn it all down” mentality of so many that allowed for the rise of Donald Trump. In his book, Our Own Worst Enemy: The Assault from Within on Modern Democracy, Tom Nichols quoted George Will who remarked in 2020 that “Affluent societies are often gripped by a hunger for apocalypse, a wish for a great struggle that could give drama and deeper meaning, a frisson of risk to the otherwise dull rhythm of life in a country that meets almost all of the needs of its population, at almost all times, and entertains them continuously while doing so.” Tom Nichols adds that “Democracy at its best is boring, and when a society becomes attached to the idea that boredom is a burden that government should alleviate, the attraction of politics beyond the edge of reason becomes a matter of entertainment rather than of justice or even of necessity” (Page 67). Tom Nichols wasn’t writing specifically to Christians, but we are no better. In a November 13 editorial in Christianity Today, Russell Moore remarked, “What we call politics these days offers people a sense of meaning and purpose, an interruption to the dead everydayness of life. A jolt of adrenaline can feel almost like life—for a little while.” But ultimately, news cycles full of political drama only leave us feeling burnt out and distract us from the truth, that this manufactured political drama is temporary, fleeting and pitiful.

But the fact that we are discontent and bored with this life isn’t in and of itself a problem. In fact, for true Christians, it is a good thing, a sign that we recognize we were made for another world. As Augustine famously said, we were made for God and only He can fulfill what are restless hearts are longing for. And as Russell Moore noted later in his article, “You are meant to have a life of drama and adventure and excitement. Politics—of the left, right or center—can’t deliver it. News cycles can’t replicate it. For those of us who are Christians, we already have it. We need no Jungian hero’s journey. We are joined to the life of Jesus of Nazareth. His story is our story. Our lives are hidden in Him” (See Colossians 3:3). In other words, it is okay to long for drama, adventure and excitement. It is just that in our fallen state, we are prone to looking for this drama and excitement in all the wrong places.

Still to this day after an especially tedious day of work, I can lapse into doubt and wonder, if only I had been able to land one of my dream jobs I longed for all my childhood—a reporter for a newspaper who would fill the hearts of dishonest politicians with terror and dread, or a paid singer in a fabulous choir or Broadway production—I wouldn’t feel this restlessness. But King Solomon had the ultimate dream job, king over Israel, the global superpower of his time, and yet many scholars believe he wrote the book of Ecclesiastes full of depressing rhetoric such as “Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind; nothing was gained under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 2:11). Ecclesiastes ultimately points to Christ, the only one who can redeem this fallen world and offer what our restless hearts long for.

Our hearts should break for those who do not believe in Christ. They do not know that peace that passes understanding from a Father who forgives their sins and promises eternal life, and thus they are more susceptible to despair when life throws them curveballs because in their minds, this life, and this broken world, is all there is. But even for those who have accepted Him, life can feel pointless sometimes. God requires even his followers to endure the mundane tedium of everyday life, toiling at a job we don’t particularly enjoy because it is in the ordinariness of everyday life that our sincerity and commitment to our faith is tested. God also uses ordinary life, especially adversity, to cultivate character qualities that we will need to accomplish his true purpose for us. When we are first introduced to Joseph, he is a rather arrogant teenage boy, boastfully sharing his dreams that indicate that his brothers, and one day even his father would bow down to him. What his brothers did out of jealousy was wrong, but God used the experience of slavery, and what I am sure were long, tedious years in prison, to cultivate patience and humility so that when he was promoted to a prestigious position by the king of Egypt, he was prepared to exercise the authority he had been given for God’s glory, whereas if he had been given this position without first experiencing years of adversity, he almost certainly would have misused this authority, concerned only with his own worldly power.

Though Scripture doesn’t say so, Moses would have had plenty of time while tending his father-in-law’s sheep day in and day out for forty years, to lament his impulsive and foolish decision to kill that Egyptian whom he witnessed beating a Hebrew slave. By God’s providence, he was rescued from the river as a baby by the pharaoh’s daughter and was raised in Pharaoh’s palace where he would have received a world-class education, only to be sentenced to a boring life tending sheep. But God would use the patience, gentleness and perseverance cultivated while tending sheep to rescue his people from slavery in Egypt and lead them to the Promise Land.

In the apostle Peter’s day, all Jewish boys typically studied Scripture until around the age of 15, but the dream job was to be chosen to be a disciple of a Rabbi, who would train them to become rabbis and lifelong scholars of Scripture themselves. But only a select few boys made the cut to be discipled by a rabbi. Most were told to return home and learn the family trade. But through years of hard, unglamorous work fishing, and mending the nets, Peter learned important skills that Jesus would repurpose to make Peter “a fisher of people.”

The reality is that in this fallen world, all jobs to some extent are tedious. None of us will find that magical job that fills the God-shaped hole in our hearts. In my case, I have heard interviews of former Broadway performers who say that performance schedules were so demanding they practically burned themselves out, not to mention that by the end of a production’s run on Broadway, they may have performed it hundreds of times. They know how to paste on a smile so the audience doesn’t know, but in their hearts, they are so sick of performing their role they can hardly stand it. In my mature moments, I know my job working in a call center isn’t really pointless. Occasionally, people will tell me that speaking with me brightened their day, and I have even had a few opportunities to inspire and encourage senior citizens experiencing vision loss. And most likely, God is aware of people for whom I have made a difference that I am unaware of at this time. So as we embark on this new year that is sure to be full of political drama, I pray that all Christians, myself very much included, will listen to the Bible instead of cable news or political podcasts, the Holy Spirit rather than social media. Instead of praying for a more exciting job by my standards, I need to pray that His will be done, and that he might help me recognize and appreciate the foretastes of Heaven he gives us all the time, like the wonderful fragrances of flowers or cookies baking, conversation and laughter around the dinner table with my parents, or a song so beautiful you could cry. And even on particularly tedious days, those days we all have when nothing seems to go right, we can still find abiding, internal joy in knowing that one day, we too will be resurrected to dwell with Christ forever in a fully redeemed creation free from the curse of sin, that life of drama, adventure and excitement we were really made for.

That Reminds me of a Song: When I was seven years old, Mom ordered a collection of John Denver albums that was released to commemorate his tragic death in a plane crash just a few months prior. Immediately, I too fell in love with his music, and Mom and I spent many happy childhood hours listening to these albums together. But my absolute favorite of these songs has always been Wild Montana Skies. I have always been fascinated by its aura of mysteriousness. It tells the story of a man whose mother died the summer after his birth, but her prayer as she nursed him, and the refrain of the song was a prayer for practical needs—a home, the love of a good family, a wife someday—but also that he would have a fire in his heart, a light in his eyes, the wild wind for a brother, and the wild Montana skies. His uncle raised him, gave him a good home, but he never quite fit in: “There was something in the city that he said he couldn’t breathe. There was something in the country that he said he couldn’t leave.” I remember turning this song over in my mind at seven years old, and I still ponder this song today. In a Creative Writing class, I wrote an essay reflecting on this song. Perhaps the city is a metaphor for conformity, resignation, dashed hopes and dreams, whereas maybe the country is a metaphor for freedom, and the life God intended for us. There is no mention of God in this song: his mother prays to Montana. But this song came to mind again as I wrote this post. Perhaps there is Christian symbolism in this song. Perhaps we need to find the courage to not fit in, to flee the “city” with its petty political drama, its shallow concept of entertainment and its culture of striving for things that will never satisfy our restless hearts, and live differently, taking seriously the truth that we were meant for another world. The song never definitively answers the question of whether Montana ever gave this man the fire in his heart, the light in his eyes that his mother prayed for, but these prayers can be answered in Christ.

The prayer guide I mentioned last week had three parts, and Wednesday was supposed to be dedicated to prayers for our political enemies. But that morning, my parents and I weren’t ready for that. We vacillated between sadness and anger, even ruminating about how much we were looking forward to seeing Trump supporters getting what they deserve, when his policies end up hurting them. As a writer, I also felt discouraged, not so much for myself but on behalf of the talented scholars, journalists and Christian activists whose blogs I follow. I am not fond of social media and am too introverted to be an effective marketer of my writing by appearing on podcasts or doing speaking engagements, so while I am grateful to all 18 of you subscribers, I never expected my writing to make a difference in the outcome of this election. I write because I sense God calling me to write, and I trust that somehow, someday, He will use it to reach someone. But I grieved for scholars, reporters and Christian activists whose blogs have thousands of followers, who practically drove themselves to exhaustion in the months leading up to the election touring the country trying to be a prophetic voice, begging Americans to follow their better angels. Ultimately, none of their efforts made a difference, and it briefly made me wonder if the very act of writing was pointless. But we cannot “become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9). The prophetic books are a case in point that God does not judge us by the results of our efforts. That is out of our control. He judges us on our obedience to his call on our lives. I also remembered that if the written word had no power, authoritarian leaders all through history wouldn’t find it necessary to ban books or persecute journalists. I don’t want to be overly dramatic. For the time being, writers don’t have to worry about outright persecution in this country. But the same cannot be said for writers in Russia whose leader Donald Trump admires, and the Washington Post’s decision to cancel their endorsement of Kamala Harris was alarming to me. I pray that if persecution comes to these shores, I will find the courage to speak the truth through the written word as my act of resistance.

But on Saturday, I felt ready to go through the prayer guide. Loving our enemies doesn’t mean we cannot be angry. In fact, Scripture encourages us to be honest with God about how we feel toward our enemies (Psalm 109). We just cannot allow ourselves to linger in this anger. Otherwise, we are no different from the world to which we are called to be salt and light. Even Pagans, tax collectors—and loyal Trump supporters—are capable of loving those who love them, and being kind to those that are kind to them (Matthew 5:46-47). Not only that, but when we overcome evil with good, we metaphorically heap burning coals on the heads of our enemies (Proverbs 25:22, Romans 12:20-21). For a modern-day example of what Paul meant by this, I think Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s commitment to this radical love is why television coverage of Civil Rights marches resonated so powerfully, even drawing white allies to the movement. If the black protestors had fought back when they were beaten, sprayed with firehoses, mauled by dogs, the world would have just seen a riot with the perpetrators indistinguishable from the victims. But when these protestors remained as innocent as doves even as they were beaten and mauled, public opinion for millions of Americans turned against these Southern police officers and Ku-Klux Klan members, and inspired many white allies, especially college students to join the cause of these protestors. And occasionally, perpetrators of evil who experience this radical love are moved to repent and come to Christ. Thus if I am really serious about rescuing people from the false teachings of Christian Nationalism, I must love my political enemies. Otherwise my pleas for them to follow the true teachings of Christ will have no credibility.

Figuring out how to do this in practice will be an ongoing process that will take more than this one blog post to sort out. But I think a good place to start is by contemplating the words Jesus spoke when his enemies crucified him. “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). This verse came into my mind on Thursday when I read this article detailing how all the efforts of honest reporters who tried to warn the country of the dangerous implications of a second Trump administration were no match against the right-wing media empire which traffics in disinformation and fear. In some small towns and rural areas of the country, right-wing propaganda outlets have even taken over local news. Even when balanced media coverage is available, vulnerable people—the lonely, the elderly, the cognitively impaired—can get drawn in by this propaganda and lose their ability to discern the truth. On top of that, many Americans get their news exclusively from social media. Since acquiring Twitter (X), Elon Musk has made no effort to crack down on bots produced by foreign adversaries seeking to divide us against each other, such that the day after the election, Twitter users reported a dramatic drop-off in followers, as the bots, having accomplished their evil mission, went away.

As for the black men and Latino men who on the surface seemed to vote against their own best interests, Jonathan Walton offers an enlightening perspective in this live podcast recorded on Wednesday. He believes that whiteness is not just about skin tone. It is an ideology based on a hierarchy of race, gender and class that even minorities can be drawn to in search of acceptance. So a black or Latino man might vote for Trump in search of acceptance based on their masculinity. Donald Trump clearly distinguishes “us” from “them”, and Latino men, due to their history of colonization, are susceptible to a mindset that says if they double down on toxic masculinity, patriarchy, vilify LGBTQ people, they will be treated better and not find themselves on the wrong side of an oppressive system. They will soon realize however that this insecurity was exploited to win their vote, and that authoritarians like Donald Trump don’t actually care about them one bit. This doesn’t mean excusing the sins of white supremacy, toxic masculinity, or resentment. But perhaps loving our enemies starts with an attitude of forgiveness which simply means letting go of any bitterness, or in my case, a sense of moral superiority that dehumanizes Trump voters, and acknowledging that as a college-educated, white woman living in an affluent suburb, I take my privilege for granted. As unimaginable as it seems from my pedestal of privilege, it is possible there are many Americans who need to be forgiven because they have been led astray by wolves in sheep’s clothing in the form of right-wing news outlets, and social media algorithms, and do not yet realize the grievous mistake they made. It is only through a posture of humility and mercy when Trump voters inevitably get hurt by his policies that these lost sheep have any hope of being rescued. If Jesus could forgive those who crucified him, I can forgive my political enemies.

That Reminds me of a Song: All week, I have been thinking about the opening of Saturday Night Live after the 2016 election, when the actress that played Hillary Clinton sang Leonard Cohen’s Halleluia, and then sounding genuinely sad but resolute, said, “I’m not giving up and neither should you.” You wouldn’t think of Saturday Night Live, and crying in the same sentence, but I found my eyes getting teary that night, as this opening so beautifully captured the shock and sadness those of us who saw Donald Trump for who he was, were feeling. And though Saturday Night Live is not known for its reverence of religion, the decision to sing this song was poignant from a religious perspective as well, a beautiful reminder that no matter how tumultuous and uncertain the times we are living through, and even though it feels as if all is going wrong now, we will one day stand before the Lord of song, and sing Halleluia.

Family Radio, the Christian station I love to listen to while I work has been running public service announcements leading up to Election Day. One of these announcements, narrated by John MacArthur has been driving me crazy. He said a question he frequently gets around Election time is “should Christians vote?” His response is that any time Christians have an opportunity to take a stand for righteousness, we must do so, and in our context, voting is one such opportunity. So far, not bad. But then he says that Christians have an obligation to vote for the candidate who honors God and who is “faithful to a biblical standard of righteousness.” On the surface, this seems completely reasonable too, which is what is so dangerous about Christian Nationalism. To a vulnerable, naïve person, such a statement is benign and perfectly reasonable. But true Christians need to think critically about the credibility of the people making such statements, what honoring God looks like in practice, and about what a truly biblical standard of righteousness actually means. John MacArthur doesn’t say who Christians should vote for, and to be fair, this message could have been recorded years ago in a different election cycle. Or as much as I don’t want to be cynical, it could be that endorsing a particular candidate would jeopardize his church’s tax exempt status. But given his extreme and unbiblical complementarian views, and comments about slavery which I have written about before, I have little doubt he will be voting for Donald Trump. With all due respect, I cannot understand how any true Christian can say with a straight face that Donald Trump honors God and is more faithful to a biblical standard of righteousness than Kamala Harris. Donald Trump’s bad character is well-documented, so I won’t rehash all of his disqualifications here, but it is worth repeating that God is not pleased with cultural Christianity that goes through the motions of a Christian life but lacks genuine love (1 Corinthians 13:1-3). Like all politicians, Kamala Harris isn’t entirely truthful, and her positions change with the political winds. It is also important to note that while the Christian Nationalism of the Right is more blatant, there is a kind of soft nationalism that Christians need to be aware of in the Democratic party as well. Overall, Kamala Harris’s speech at the Ellipse was inspiring, and the symbolism of speaking at the same site where Trump inspired his followers to attack the U.S. Capitol was fitting. But I was a little uncomfortable with how she ended the speech with the line about turning the page and writing the next chapter of the most extraordinary story ever told. Though this line may have been spoken with good intentions—an effort to rally all Americans behind a common cause of figuring out how to live peacefully together—we as Christians should be weary of rhetoric that perpetuates the harmful concept of American Exceptionalism, a form of idolatry. The story of our country is not the most extraordinary story ever told.

Both Jerry Falwell Jr., and Zack Hunt, a former pastor and the author of Godbreathed who spoke on a Zoom call for Evangelicals for Harris a call that was discussed in this Rolling Stone article, agree that the goal of a presidential election is not electing a pastor. But Zack Hunt sums up the key difference between Donald Trump and Kamala Harris perfectly. “The problem for Christians is not that Trump fails to live up to the Christian principles he claims to defend.”—We all do, even pastors—“The problem is he actively and aggressively works to undermine the way of Jesus with everything he says and does, and with every policy he wants to enact.” Even if you just arrived from another planet and know nothing about the policy track records of Donald Trump or Kamala Harris, you ought to be able to tell who genuinely seeks to honor God just by listening to them speak in side-by-side clips: I am always struck by the contrast between Donald Trump who doesn’t even try to tame his tongue, giving it free reign to spew deadly, poisonous rhetoric that inspires division, hatred and violence, while Kamala Harris seeks to heal and inspire all Americans with an inclusive, optimistic vision for our country’s future.

But in an article published in Religion News Service, Caitlyn Schiess cautions that as commendable as it is for true Christians, especially young people to reclaim true Christian principles by breaking away from the white supremacist, xenophobic, Christian Nationalist platform of their parents’ Republican Party, we must be careful not to make the same underlying mistake as our parents’ generation, the mistake of believing that the spiritual stakes for our country are high every election year, meaning that our votes are of eternal spiritual significance. “We have forgotten that for Christians, all of politics is contingent and provisional,” Caitlyn Schiess writes, “Our votes, cast by and for fallen and finite creatures will always and only be heavily mediated opportunities to aim at the best good available to us. They cannot bear the weight of expressing our Christian identity or representing everything the Bible commands of us.” This absolutely does not mean Christians should not vote, especially in this particular election. Although no election has eternal spiritual significance, the conscience of true Christians should be stirred to “seek the peace and prosperity of the city” (Jeremiah 29:7) which to my conscience means voting against candidates who admire and wish to emulate fascist dictators whose lust for power aggressively undermined the way of Jesus, and led to some of the darkest moments of human history. Of course Old Testament verses must be applied cautiously to our context. As I have written before, the United States is not a covenant nation as ancient Israel was, but we can learn from the principle that all Christians in a sense are living in exile. This country is not our true home and yet we are called to contribute to its peace and prosperity, and in so doing, offer a foretaste of God’s kingdom. But no matter who wins the election, true Christians must never forget that until Christ returns, we will not find a candidate completely faithful to a biblical standard of righteousness, and because we, the voters are also fallen and finite beings, we cannot fully imagine what a biblical standard of righteousness even means in practice. This is why it is dangerous to apply “spiritual warfare” language to secular activities like elections.

Spiritual warfare is theological speak for the reality that “our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Ephesians 6:12). But in his book Losing Our Religion, Russel Moore explains that when tribalism connects with resentment, and resentment connects with fear, culture wars are viewed in terms of spiritual warfare, with human beings as the irredeemable “demons” to be opposed. Reading this explanation, and remembering the backlash against the first black president that was all over the news at that time, the portrayal of the devil as Barack Obama sadly makes sense. Furthermore, even if you know that your political opponents are not literally demons, Russel Moore reminds us that metaphors matter. In the same way that history has shown that referring to a minority group as vermin can eventually provide a permission structure for genocide, using spiritual warfare language against political opponents likely provided the permission structure for the insurrection on January 6, and continues to provide the permission structure for conspiracy theories and efforts to sabotage the election by setting drop boxes on fire or threatening election officials. And for my part, as appalled as I am by this paranoia and misuse of spiritual warfare language, it is hard not to respond by becoming a little fearful and paranoid myself. If I voted early, could our Republican municipal clerk throw away my ballot? Even on Election Day, could my ballot be rejected? After another election—pre-pandemic when election conspiracy theories were nowhere near as intense as they are now—I know of a Republican poll worker who was suspicious of a woman with a disability whose mother helped her fill out her ballot. But our country’s turmoil will not end until we all get out of this mindset. “The entire point of spiritual warfare is that it is not present or absent based on tribes or factions,” Russel Moore reminds us, “If spiritual warfare were simply another way of saying “arguing with each other” or “owning the Libs” or “raging against the corporate machine” or whatever, spiritual warfare would mean that some people are exempt, and other people are unsalvageable, irredeemable” (Losing our Religion Page 133). This would mean denying two of the most fundamental truths of Scripture, that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23) and all who call on the name of the Lord will be saved (Romans 10:13). Though Donald Trump’s words and external deeds undermine the way of Jesus, only God knows what is really in his heart. He, like me is just another broken but redeemable human being. The angry election deniers threatening violence if the election doesn’t go their way, are just broken but redeemable human beings too. All humans are made in God’s image, and God loves us even though none of us is righteous. That is why Jesus says that those who genuinely desire to follow him must love their enemies.

I admit I am terribly undisciplined when it comes to formal prayer time, but I agree with pastors who advise that we should pray in preparation for Election Day and the days that follow, as the outcome won’t be known right away. But be careful. Christian Nationalist organizations are promoting prayer events tomorrow night. One event is calling people in all 50 states to gather for one hour and pray for God to save our country, unify our people and heal our land. On the surface, this sounds nice and innocent. But the United States is not a covenant nation. God’s plan is far bigger than the United States of America. We are just another empire whose existence Scripture already told us will not be eternal. And, you have to ask what kind of unity these organizers are praying for. Is it a biblical unity, the kind of unity that “makes every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace” (Ephesians 4:3), or is it a manipulative call for unity behind a political agenda to restore a nostalgic cultural Christianity that is contradictory to the teachings of Christ? I will be using a prayer guide from Intervarsity Press, recommended by KTF Press, a Substack publication that seeks to elevate marginalized voices and help Christians break free of the harmful influence colonization and white supremacy has had on the American church. The important thing to remember is that the purpose of prayer is not to give God our wish list. During a dark season of anxiety in a previous job, I viewed prayer this way, and was a mixture of angry and devastated when my wish for a different job was not granted. But eventually, the stress and anxiety of the job was removed with a simple change of position within the same company. This taught me a valuable lesson, that God’s wisdom is far superior to ours, so the purpose of prayer should be to ground ourselves in Christ, and align our hearts to his. Because all political candidates will fall short of God’s righteous standard, we should pray for trust that no matter the outcome, God is sovereign and His will will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. If the outcome we wanted is granted, we should pray that we are not tempted into an attitude of smugness toward our acquaintances who voted for the losing candidate, or into political idolatry toward our candidate. Since all candidates will fall short of God’s righteous standard, Christians will need to hold power to account no matter the outcome, so we should pray for humility and discernment. We can pray a genuine prayer that election officials will conduct the vote counting with integrity, but we should also pray that everyone, especially professed Christians, will peacefully accept the results of the election, remembering that the political activities of this world are contingent and provisional. But most importantly, we must pray for our political enemies. In my case, whether or not he wins the election, I should pray for Donald Trump, in the sense of praying that he might have a change of heart and repent of all the ways he has undermined the way of Christ, and that if he does, I will rejoice and not be resentful like the workers in the parable who worked a full day in the vineyard and resented the workers who only worked the last hour and received the same wage (Matthew 20:1-16). We should lament and ask forgiveness for the times we may have been complicit in mistreating people we disagree with whether through name-calling or mean-spirited jokes. We should pray that we will show mercy and compassion to our enemies if they are hurt by the policies of the candidate they voted for. And above all, if someone in our lives comes to see the error of their political idolatry, we should be quick to reconcile with them and warmly welcome them back into the fold, just as Christ does when we stray from him.

That Reminds me of a Song: As I was writing this, The Kingdom of Jesus from the Porter’s Gate came to mind. It artfully reminds us that the kingdom of Jesus is both something that is within us which we have the power to give the world a glimpse of, and a future home we can joyfully anticipate. In both cases, this kingdom is so much greater, so much more powerful than the kingdom of this world. This should give us comfort when it seems as though evil is prevailing. I especially love how the song has the recurring motif “oh say, can you see” an allusion to our national anthem, used to remind us that we can only have one allegiance, and allegiance to the kingdom of Jesus has so much more to offer than allegiance to the United States of America.

But in my view, as bleak as this man’s life was, we haven’t gotten to the worst part of it. What struck me as even more tragic than this man’s grim situation was the way others treated him. Most doctors, after spending no more than ten minutes with him, would just throw a prescription at him, never caring to see his humanity, to enquire into the root cause of his condition rather than just treat the symptoms. One doctor, after looking at his bloodwork, even told him to buy a cemetery plot because if he stayed on his current trajectory, he wouldn’t live more than five years. Perhaps this doctor had good intentions. There are some who believe that “scaring people straight” will motivate them to change, but anecdotal evidence I have read, and personal experience has convinced me that more often than not, this approach just leaves the recipient feeling more humiliated and ashamed, and a natural response is to turn to comfort food to soothe this shame and humiliation. Eric says he officially hit rock bottom after a particularly humiliating flight home from a business trip when the airplane ran out of seatbelt extenders and had to transfer one from another plane, delaying takeoff by 45 minutes. The man sitting next to him was so angry about this that he turned to Eric, seething, and said out loud, “Great! I’m going to miss my connection because you are so fat.” When he arrived home after this ordeal, he devoured two extra-large meat lovers pizzas from Dominoes and collapsed on the floor, regretting that he did not own a gun, or have any pills strong enough to end his life, and praying to God that He could just end his life that night. But God had other plans.

Eric said he was never particularly religious. The only times he went to church were for the occasional wedding or funeral. But that night, he blacked out, and during this blackout, felt what he could only describe as a sense of God’s presence. The next morning, he was still in physical pain, but had a renewed sense of hope, and felt an urge to order a Bible from Amazon, which he read voraciously from cover to cover when it arrived. To make a long story short, God led him to Dr. Preety, who spent an hour and a half with him, treated him as a whole person, prescribed a plant-based diet, and a shelter dog.

At the shelter, Casaundra, a compassionate adoption counselor said she knew the perfect dog for him, a dog who also had a sad past and was morbidly obese. With the intervention of these compassionate humans, and the unconditional love from Peety, who held Eric accountable in a nonjudgmental way, Eric ultimately turned his life around completely. I first read this man’s story in a 2018 issue of Reader’s Digest, but in a similar fashion as John Rawls’s Veil of Ignorance I discussed last week, this man’s story seemed to randomly come back to mind this week. But it occurred to me that this man’s story could be an allegory—if not an outright case study given that his transformation started with a desperate cry out to God and an urge to read the Bible—for how God intended for us to relate to one another. The long walks required to get from place to place and the lack of places to sit to take off your shoes at the airport, and the narrow airplane seats represents a society that privileges thin people and shows no grace to people who struggle to manage their weight, a metaphor for how some seek to create a society that privileges Christianity and shows no grace to people with different beliefs. The gimmicky diets could be a metaphor for hucksters that promise healing to desperate, vulnerable people if they send money, and when these victims are not healed, they are made to feel like failures, that they just didn’t try hard enough or have enough faith. All the people that stared at Eric in disgust or made a point of avoiding him could be a metaphor for the self-righteous, judgmental hypocrites that are the hallmark of Christian Nationalism. We all have planks we need to take out of our own eyes, just as most Americans are either overweight, or eat unhealthy diets devoid of fruits and vegetables that will catch up with them someday. Just because someone takes a vice to an extreme that I don’t understand does not give me permission to judge them or mistreat them because I am not the picture of perfect health myself, and but for the grace of God, I could have been in Eric’s position. How would I want to be treated if I were Eric?

Lest anyone think I am self-righteous, I should confess I was especially shocked by the cruelty of the man sitting next to Eric on the plane. But then I came to the sobering realization that I hate being inconvenienced too, especially if it is on the flight home. I hate traveling to begin with, and judging by the shameful way I seethed in anger one road trip when we got a flat tire that delayed our arrival home by two hours, I must confess that I cannot claim I wouldn’t have been absolutely irate if I missed my connection waiting for a seat belt extender. I hope I wouldn’t have expressed my anger out loud to the obese passenger responsible for the delay, but I am pretty sure I would have been seething, consumed with thoughts expressing this same sentiment, and Christ taught this is a distinction without a difference (Matthew 5:21-28).

The doctor who tried to scare Eric straight could represent pastors and politicians—some well-intentioned, many not—who spend an inordinate amount of time preaching God’s judgment or eternal punishment if they don’t change their lifestyle, or even if they vote for a pro-choice candidate. This is not to say sin won’t be punished one day, but I think it is dangerous and irresponsible, maybe even blasphemous to make this the starting place for our evangelistic efforts, or to presume we know what God’s verdict for anyone will be, especially given how Jesus says that we will be judged by the same measure we use to judge others (Matthew 7:1-2). Also, when you are young, the prospect of death and eternal punishment someday does not inspire genuine motivation to change, just as when I was a child, warnings of heart failure or diabetes someday—I envisioned myself the age of Grandma and Grandpa—didn’t inspire a genuine motivation to change my habits long-term. I would commit myself to a sort of legalism for a few months, exercising diligently and depriving myself of all my favorite foods. It was nice having concerned loved ones, teachers and doctors off my back, complementing my will-power instead of lecturing me, but changes never stick if that is the only motivation behind them. Though this is not a perfect allegory, I think it is still useful in the sense that the temptation toward fear-mongering and legalism is an unfortunate reality that religion and diet culture have in common with tragic consequences in both cases. The downstream victims of fearmongering pastors and politicians may vote as they are told, sit in church every Sunday, speak out on the latest culture war issues at every family gathering, but the dominant emotions in their lives are anger and anxiety. Or, similar to Eric, who almost gave up on the idea of ever being healthy and resigned himself to an early death until God intervened, they give up on Christianity altogether, having been led to believe that following Christ is like being on an extreme weight-loss plan with strict rules, a demanding exercise regimen, no flavor, no pleasure. Make one mistake, succumb to temptation in a moment of weakness and you are a failure.

The doctors who just threw a prescription Eric’s way could represent the politicians and activists motivated by Christian Nationalism who are looking for a quick fix, a simple solution to a complex situation. This is not the time to get into the weeds of the abortion debate, except to say that I believe passages like Exodus 21:22-23 and Luke 1:41 suggest that abortion should not be approached with a cavalier attitude. However, Jesus never directly discusses abortion—or any of the other current culture war issues for that matter—but he says quite a bit about showing mercy for the poor and marginalized of society, and compassion for the physical and mental well-being of women. If politicians truly wanted to make America more Christian, they would champion wholistic legislation that aligns with the teachings of Christ, rather than just competing to pass the strictest abortion ban for political gain.

I am blessed that regarding both my spiritual health and my physical health, I have not needed to transform my life from a place of extreme desperation like Eric, or the homeless person addicted to drugs for whom Christ was her last hope. But even in my comparatively privileged life, I know the joy of realizing I am lighter on my feet, have more energy, rarely come down sick, when I was persuaded by the positive attitude of new friends and the wonderful smell of healthy recipes cooking, to turn away from the typical American diet and eat a gluten free, mostly plant-based, and very flavorful diet. I was also blessed to meet some friends who did not compartmentalize their faith, and was persuaded by the peace and contentment that seemed to radiate from their countercultural lives. It grieves me to know that Christian Nationalism is depriving many people, some of whom are my own friends and family, of the peace and joy of a relationship with the true Jesus.

So how should Christians apply this allegory? Obviously on an individual level, we should behave like Dr. Preety, Casaundra, and even Peety, and not like the man on the airplane or the doctors who employ scare tactics or quick fixes. But on the societal level, as counter-intuitive as it may seem to some Christians, we need to learn to accept a secular approach to governing that does not privilege Christianity over other religions in the public square. In their book, Jesus and the Powers, N.T. Wright and Michael Bird concede that secularism can be anti-religious. I immediately thought of authoritarian regimes where religion is either strictly prohibited or closely regulated by the state. But in its best form, secularism is a safeguard against theocracy on the one hand—the Taliban came to my mind—and atheist fanatics seeking to eradicate religion. “In a healthy liberal democracy, Christian voices will not be stymied, but neither will non-Christian voices be censored. The purpose of Christian influence is not the pursuit of Christian hegemony, but the giving of faithful Christian witness. Christian hegemony treats Christians as a type of invisible ruling class or an unspoken civil religion that demands public assent. In contrast, Christian witness is offered in a spirit of persuasion, not in a spirit of pursuing raw, public power” (Jesus and the Powers Chapter 4). Unfortunately, I believe the most influential pastors and politicians who champion Christian Nationalism are the wolves in sheep’s clothing Jesus warned us about. They have no interest in faithful Christian witness: they intentionally misappropriate Christianity for worldly political gain. But sadly, many ordinary people downstream of these pastors and politicians—our loved ones at the family reunion—are like vulnerable sheep. They want to be, and often sincerely believe they are giving faithful Christian witness. In their family, and their often homogenous community, they are compassionate people who are the first to respond when anyone needs help or comfort. But the wolves have figured out how to exploit a variety of factors from economic disadvantage, to fear of change, to nostalgia for a Christian nation that never really was, to convince these people that Christian hegemony pleases God. But the Bible states in no uncertain terms that God has no interest in a culturally Christian nation (Matthew 7:22-23, 1 Corinthians 13:1-3). A nation that reduces Christianity to legalistic rules, a faith that goes through the motions of following Christ but shows no love for the marginalized, or for people of different religious beliefs or ethnic backgrounds, is not a Christian nation at all. God desires genuine Christians who will persuade others to follow Christ, not via coercion, self-righteous, judgmental lectures, or scare tactics, but via the sincere, unconditional love, peace and joy that radiates from their lives. And a healthy liberal democracy, where everyone’s religious liberty is protected is the ideal environment for this genuine Christianity to flourish.

That Reminds me of a Song: Whenever I listen to the music of Bill and Gloria Gaither, I think of my maternal Grandma, (Granny), who passed away just after Christmas last year. She was a Quaker, and a beautiful example of someone who quietly lived out her faith, but never self-righteously shoved it down the throats of others. Her memory is likely why, while writing this post, I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say… one of my favorite songs on an Israel Homecoming album she gave me came to mind. The song is based on Matthew 11:28-30 where Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” These words of comfort, combined with a calming melody, and intentional instrumentation that invites the listener to rest, I think this song is a beautiful musical picture for how true Christians are called to live and represent Christ to others.

This theory came to mind when I heard the horrible, baseless story last week that Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio were eating people’s pets. From a Christian perspective, this rhetoric is despicable on so many levels. For one thing, God did not include any qualifiers in the commandment “You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor” (Exodus 20:16), so the fact that some of the same politicians who want the Ten Commandments posted in every public school classroom, can justify this cruel, racist lie for political gain is our first clue that Christian Nationalism is their true religion, a completely different religion from the teachings of Christ. I would also add that I believe that most people possess a basic sense of decency, a component of God’s general revelation, evidenced by the fact that prohibitions against stealing other people’s property, killing or otherwise harming one another, are included in the moral codes of all mainstream religions, both Eastern and Western. Even humanists and Atheists recognize that it is in our best interest to have an orderly society where we don’t have to fear for our safety and where personal property is respected. Of course in practice, the Doctrine of Total Depravity means that all humanity, across every race and religion is susceptible to lust, greed, jealousy, and thus theft and cruelty are not uncommon occurrences. Thus even if pets had been stolen and eaten, the proper Christian response requires recognizing that but for the grace of God, any one of us, put into the right circumstances, is capable of egregious conduct, which is why we can seek restitution, through proper legal channels, from the individual responsible, but ultimately, we must forgive, and attribute our hardship solely to the total depravity of all humanity, not any particular ethnic group.

But as Kaitlyn Schiess insightfully points out in this week’s episode of The Holy Post, this was never even about immigrants causing harm, such as the little boy in Springfield who was killed in a bus accident by one of these Haitian immigrants, nor even about the isolated incidents across the country of undocumented immigrants murdering people. If it were, the politicians could have stayed focused on these stories. But the motive for spreading a baseless claim on social media that Haitian immigrants are eating people’s pets is far more sinister: to argue that these immigrants are fundamentally different from us, subhuman, savages. It should go without saying that God would disagree (Genesis 1:27). Again, there are no qualifiers: all humanity was created in God’s image and are to be treated with dignity. For all the ways we, in our fallen nature have come up with to divide ourselves, the Bible makes it abundantly clear that there are really only two types of people in this world, those who are near to Christ, and those who are far from Christ, whom God calls us to minister to so that they too might draw near to Christ (See especially Ephesians 2). In The Holy Post, Phil Visher also sited a statistic that 47 percent of the world’s migrants are Christian, so our shame should be magnified if we stop and consider that when we dehumanize immigrants, there is a good chance we are dehumanizing many of our own brothers and sisters in Christ. But dehumanizing those who may not be Christian is no less shameful. In fact, it is tragic because our misrepresentation of the true Gospel may be so off-putting that they never trust in Christ.

But I want to return to the idea of the Veil of Ignorance. We are incapable of putting ourselves behind a veil of ignorance, and actually, even if we were, this wouldn’t be the most Christian response to the injustice and inequity of our society. Sure, it could yield excellent earthly outcomes of fairness and equity. But Christ is not interested in merely our external behavior but our motives, and thus if I am crafting social policy that lifts up women, the poor, people of color simply because I might be born into one of these groups and will have to live with the consequences of my policies, I am still acting in my own self-interest, albeit in a roundabout way. True Christianity requires that even affluent white men advocate for policies that lift up the marginalized, even if it costs them wealth, or status or political power, motivated by genuine love and a desire to offer society a foretaste of God’s kingdom where there will be no social stratification.

Shortly after leaving the Catholic church and joining a nondenominational Protestant church, I was listening to a radio sermon from Pete Briscoe, the son of renowned pastors and missionaries Jill and Stuart Briscoe. He mentioned how as a kid, he asked his parents one day why he lived in comfort, when so many he met on the mission field with his parents lived in extreme poverty. I wasn’t a missionary kid, but as someone who grew up in a stable, loving family in an affluent suburb, I had often wondered the same thing. The response of his parents was one simple word: grace. Growing up Catholic, I understood grace from a theological perspective. We are all sinners who deserve eternal punishment and separation from God. But God graciously sent his Son to atone for our sins so that we may enjoy eternal life. But with this broadened application of grace, so much more of the Bible, and our lives in this world make sense. There was nothing particularly virtuous about anyone in the Old Testament. In fact, it has all the makings for a gripping television drama: deception, betrayal, jealousy, even incest. But God, by his grace, chose flawed people to play a part in his redemption plan, and long before Christ came to dwell among us, even before God gave the Law to Moses, formally prohibiting things like deception and incest, the Bible tells us that Abraham’s faith was credited to him as righteousness (Genesis 15:6, James 2:23). I did absolutely nothing in a previous life or anything to deserve my good fortune, and children born in a war-torn region like Gaza, a slum in India, or even a family or community right here in America plagued by drug addiction or violence certainly did nothing to deserve their hardship. But God did not set Abraham apart for a life of privilege in a vacuum. God told Abraham that “all peoples on earth will be blessed through you” (Genesis 12:3). In other words, while God doesn’t tell us why he chose Abraham for the lineage that would become Israel, or why for that matter, he declared the Israelites his chosen people, God was very clear as to how the Israelites were supposed to respond to this grace: to be a blessing to others. In the same way, God does not tell us why to this day, some of us live in peace and comfort while others are born into war and poverty, but he is clear that he did not endow us with these blessings so that we could hoard them for ourselves, like lighting a lamp and then putting it under a bowl (Matthew 5:15). We too were shown grace so that we might be a blessing to others, like putting our lamp in its stand so that it gives light to everyone in the house (Matthew 5:16).

Such a massive influx of immigrants to one small community is a legitimate logistical concern that needs to be rationally addressed. But to respond to these Haitian immigrants, and all immigrants for that matter, with hateful rhetoric about how they are taking our jobs, or buying up our houses making housing unaffordable, or requiring us to pay higher taxes, is reprehensible because from a Christian perspective, these resources were never ours to begin with. Our financial resources, even the land we occupy, are gifts from God we were given not because of anything virtuous we ever did to deserve them, but by virtue of God’s grace, so that we could be a blessing to those less fortunate, like these Haitian immigrants, who came legally by the way, fleeing extreme poverty and lawlessness in their country.

When I was eighteen years old and trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, I chose to study Political Science because I found political discussions interesting in high school, and being the typical young idealist, I thought maybe if I studied Political Science, I could pursue a career in government and in this way, have the power to make a positive difference for society. I had accepted Christ, but my faith was a compartmentalized faith. I went to church every Sunday and generally tried to be a good person, but I didn’t fully appreciate how the Christian faith is supposed to radically transform our entire outlook on life. But looking back on my studies with the perspective of a much more mature faith, I have come to realize that no political ideology, no silly theory like John Rawls’s Veil of Ignorance has the power to make a genuine, positive difference in the world. The Oxford English Dictionary defines politics as “the activities associated with the governance of a country or other area, especially the debate or conflict among individuals or parties having or hoping to achieve power.” This desire for power means that self-interest is inseparable from governance. Jesus said that no man can serve two masters, and he was right because history proves time and again that when people try to combine Christianity with a political philosophy, Nationalism, the lust for political power inevitably wins out, resulting in supposed Christians misusing the name of the Lord, and twisting Scripture to justify all kinds of evil, including the hoarding of God’s grace for themselves. As discussed above, the Veil of Ignorance thought experiment is impossible to actually carry out, and even if we could stand behind such a veil, we would still be, in an indirect sense, acting out of self-interest. Ideologies like Socialism or Communism are feeble attempts to manufacture fairness and equity without God that do not account for the evil in every human heart. This is not to say Christians should completely disengage from politics: On the contrary, Christians are called to “seek the good of the city” (Jeremiah 29:7) which in our context means praying that the Holy Spirit speaks into our conscience, voting accordingly, and then continuing to speak truth to whomever is elected because every political candidate will fall short of Christ’s righteous standard, including Kamala Harris. In the interest of full transparency though, I have to say here that I believe character matters above all else. Sticking with the immigration context, the Biden/Harris administration has unfortunately succumbed to political pressure to secure the border by denying migrants the chance to request asylum if border arrests rise above 2,500 per day for a week, a policy that is arbitrary and cruel from a Christian perspective, but overall, you can tell by the way they speak that both Joe Biden and Kamala Harris have compassion in their hearts, that they at least recognize the humanity of these migrants, even if they like all politicians, sometimes put political expediency ahead of doing what is right. But I cannot fathom how honest Christians can vote for someone who says that immigrants are poisoning the blood of this country, and who amplified the horrible rumor in Springfield. But ultimately, true Christians recognize there is no political solution to the immigration debate, or any of the other social issues for that matter. Only a truly biblical worldview that recognizes the grace we have been shown, and our mandate to respond to this grace by being a blessing to others has the power to make a genuine, positive difference in this world.

That Reminds Me of a Song: But for the Grace of God, sung by Keith Urban is technically not a song in the Christian music genre. It is a country song expressing gratitude for the love of his wife. I kind of quit listening to country music several years ago when it took on a more pop sound, so I hadn’t heard this song in years, but as I was writing this post, it came back to mind. In the first verse, he sings of the neighbors who are always fighting, and how he has to turn the radio up to drown out the shouting. Then in the second verse, he sings of a man in his neighborhood who is materially rich but spiritually poor. No one calls him or comes to visit, so he wanders through his empty home, surrounded by his things. Meanwhile, the narrator is blessed to have a peaceful life with a wife who loves him, which he correctly credits to the grace of God. In the refrain you can almost imagine him crying as he is clearly aware that but for the grace of God, his life could have turned out very differently. The song doesn’t tell us whether he responds to this recognition of God’s grace by reaching out to these troubled, lonely neighbors, but what if we used this song to imagine a third verse to God’s grace in our own lives?

In her book Nobody’s Mother: Artemis of the Ephesians in Antiquity and the New Testament, Sandra L. Glahn, before diving into the academic focus of the book, shares her personal story. She grew up in a large, traditional family. Her father had a good job with the federal government, and her mother loved being a homemaker and doted on Sandra and her four siblings. Sandra always dreamed of being a mother, and church teaching she was exposed to reenforced this, teaching that motherhood and homemaking was God’s ordained purpose for women. But after multiple miscarriages, an ectopic pregnancy and three failed attempts to adopt, Sandra struggled not only with the emotional and financial toll of infertility treatments and hopes dashed, but also with the question of what God’s purpose was for women like her? It is this question which inspired her to study more carefully the cultural context of ancient Ephesus, the backdrop of 1 Timothy 2:15 in which Paul writes, “But women will be saved through childbearing—if they continue in faith, love and holiness with propriety.” Beth Allison Barr, a Southern Baptist who grew up immersed in complementarian theology, and a history professor who teaches about women in Medieval and early modern church history, was inspired to write her book after her husband, a youth pastor, was fired for challenging the church’s position on women in ministry. Both Sandra Glahn and Beth Allison Barr acknowledge that everyone reads Scripture through the grid of their personal experiences. As I have discussed frequently on this blog, Christian Nationalists also twist Scripture out of context, or cherry-pick passages that support their political agenda, while ignoring others that do not. But what if Beth Allison Barr and Sandra Glahn were doing the same thing? It is true that the extreme positions taken by some evangelicals, or at least the self-righteous, judgmental way biblical principles are applied, is contrary to the teachings of Jesus. But it is also true that God’s ways are higher than our ways, and as such, true Christians can expect that at some point in their study of Scripture, the Holy Spirit will reveal something we don’t want to hear, or that goes against the cultural trends of the day. Put another way, one of our pastors once said that if God always agrees with you in every matter, it could be that you are creating God in your own image. But Sandra Glahn and Beth Allison Barr make a commitment to set their personal experiences aside, and to evaluate, as impartially as is humanly possible, the emerging research of Bible scholars, and archeological discoveries related to the cultural contexts of ancient Ephesus and Corinth. In so doing, these women make a compelling argument that “biblical patriarchy” isn’t really biblical at all.

The concept of biblical patriarchy, as Beth Allison Barr pointed out, goes all the way back to Adam and Eve in Genesis 3:16 when God told Eve, “I will greatly increase your pains in childbearing; with pain you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.” This is after Adam and Eve had disobeyed God and eaten from the forbidden tree. This is Scripture’s first indication that biblical patriarchy was not ordained by God, and not part of God’s original creation but another consequence of the fall. The curse of sin will not be fully reversed until Christ returns, but if Christ called Christians to be salt and light, offering the world a foretaste of God’s kingdom, we should be taking our cues from other passages of Scripture, especially Galatians 3:28, not from the culture around us, or even from church history. Beth Allison Barr notes that “Christians in the past may have used Paul to exclude women from leadership, but this doesn’t mean the subjugation of women is biblical. It just means that Christians today are repeating the same mistake of Christians in the past—modeling our treatment of women after the world around us instead of the world Jesus shows us is possible” (Page 41).

According to Sandra Glahn, it is also worth noting that in Proverbs 31, the Old Testament passage proponents of complementarian theology turn to most, the virtuous woman described does fulfill domestic duties—providing food, sewing garments—and submits to her husband. But she also “sees that her trading is profitable” (31:18), makes and sells linen garments (31:24), and “speaks with wisdom” implying that a virtuous woman could teach (31:26). In other words, a virtuous woman could provide for her family while also earning money outside the home.

In the Gospel accounts, Jesus models a level of respect for women that was radical for his time. In Luke 10:42 for example, Jesus is invited for dinner at the home of Martha and her sister Mary, but Martha is upset that her sister is sitting at Jesus’s feet listening to him teach, rather than helping her with dinner preparation. In response, Jesus says, “Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her,” prompting Sandra Glahn to quip that “The first female seminarian was not feminist Betty Friedan’s idea, but Jesus Christ’s” (Page 10).

People hostile to Christianity love to hate Paul, but this hostility is due to an inadequate understanding of the context of Paul’s letters, perpetuated by prominent pastors like John MacArthur. When framed properly in their cultural contexts, Paul’s letters actually offer the most compelling repudiations of biblical patriarchy. While proponents of complementarian theology, and those hostile to Paul, for different reasons cannot get past Ephesians 5:22—wives, submit to your husbands—the women Paul was speaking to would have focused on Ephesians 5:27—husbands, love your wives and do not be harsh with them—and this would have been revolutionary in a historical context where Roman law viewed women as the property of men, and Pagan husbands frequently beat their wives. According to Beth Allison Barr, Roman civil law required women to submit to their husbands. Paul believed that the credibility of the Gospel of Christ depended on everyone living quiet lives, obeying to the greatest extent possible all the civil laws so as not to cause trouble. But Paul also believed it was possible to simultaneously live quiet lives in obedience to Roman civil law, yet also live subversively as people who recognize they are ultimately citizens of another world.

If God ordained marriage for all women, (1 Timothy 5:14), then why, in 1 Corinthians 7:8 does he tell Corinthian widows it is good to stay unmarried? It is clear that these books of the Bible, which are letters Paul wrote to specific churches to address specific situations that arose based on the unique cultural contexts of each church. Moreover, Paul makes it clear through the use of first-person pronouns—so I counsel other widows—that his words are not a command directly from the Lord as the words of the prophets were, but words of wisdom in his own voice, informed by prayer and study of Scripture no doubt, but still his own words to address specific circumstances, not decrees for all time. And if Paul’s wisdom, informed by the Holy Spirit and study of Scripture held that it is good for some women to remain unmarried, and if the Law, Prophets, and Christ himself were clear that marriage is a necessary prerequisite to childbearing, then Paul could not have been teaching in 1 Timothy 2:15 that childbearing is necessary for a woman’s eternal salvation. The Catholic church I grew up in is extremely patriarchal: only men can become priests, despite the fact that in 1 Corinthians 11:5, Paul presumed that women would prophesy, and on the day of Pentecost, both men and women prophesied. But the Catholic requirement that nuns and priests live celibate lives is a testament to the recognition that while raising children is a beautiful, high calling, so is celibacy, as it allows people to devote their lives to serving the Lord at a level that would not be feasible if they had to juggle marriage and family responsibilities.

Artemis has long been thought to be a fertility goddess, but archeological evidence disputes this, as literary, epigraphic and architectural artifacts have revealed that Artemis was a virgin, though she indirectly contributed to fertility as a midwife whom the Ephesians believed could deliver women safely through childbirth, a perilous experience that killed many women before modern medicine, or if the woman must die, kill her quickly and painlessly. Paul would have understood how newly converted Ephesian women might have been tempted, due to social pressure and internal anxiety, to cover all their bases, praying to Jesus while also, secretly if necessary, going to the temple and offering a sacrifice to Artemis. Thus, Sandra Glahn makes the compelling argument that Paul received assurance from the Holy Spirit, and was passing this assurance on to Timothy, that during this foundational period for the church when the influence of false deities was still powerful, women in Timothy’s pastoral care would not die in childbirth so long as they fully trusted in the true Savior and deliverer.

This is not an exhaustive overview of all the biblical passages that repudiate complementarian theology. An exhaustive overview would have turned this blog post into a novel. But I hope it is enough to soften the hearts of people hostile to Christianity, and to comfort others who may be like me. You see, the brain tumor that caused my blindness also damaged my pituitary gland, so it would be risky, if not impossible for me to have children. Furthermore, I haven’t yet met a life partner anyway, not that I am really looking for one. After observing friends and coworkers using online dating apps that encourage superficiality, and after reading articles about how abusive, controlling men sometimes seek out women with disabilities, I have decided not to force things. If God wants me to marry someday, he will put me in contact with the right guy who may join my choir, or be out walking his dog at the same time I am walking mine. Until then, I am content to be a single, childless cat lady, and it is comforting to be assured through Scripture, the Holy Spirit, and the scholarly research presented in the books I have mentioned, that there is nothing wrong with that. Of course, I do need to be mindful that my love for my cat doesn’t cross the line into idolatry. Like maybe I shouldn’t have spent $17 on a fancy laser toy for him on Chewy last week. That money could have gone to mission work. But in all seriousness, if you are reading this as a woman who has found a life partner and you have been  blessed with the joy of holding a baby in your lap, you are fulfilling a beautiful, high calling in raising the next generation. But if you are reading this as a woman who has not found a life partner, does not feel called to raise children, or you are unable to have children, and you spend your evenings watching television with a purring cat in your lap, your life is no less virtuous or beautiful. It may be that God has blessed you with an equally beautiful, high calling, to devote your life fully to serving the Lord. Don’t listen to insecure male pastors or politicians who twist Scripture to convince you otherwise. And if you grew up going to church, but you left because of complementarian theology, I pray you might come back, and give Christianity another chance because complementarian theology is a byproduct of Christian Nationalism, not true Christianity.

That Reminds me of a Song: Every Sunday morning for several years, I listened to Rick Jackson’s Country Hall of Fame on the radio, which featured older country songs no longer played regularly on the radio. Easter Sunday featured one of my favorite episodes of the year, as the theme was gospel music. That is where I first heard He’s Alive, sung by Dolly Parton. It is told from Peter’s point of view, but it tells the story of how women were the first to discover that Jesus’s body was no longer in the tomb. A pastor once explained that in the Roman world, if someone committed a crime and 100 women witnessed it, but no men had witnessed it, the court would not find their testimony credible, and the alleged criminal would likely go free. But the testimony of one man would be taken seriously. Knowing this, it is easy to understand how Peter could not believe Mary at first, until he saw Jesus for himself. This is a thrilling song, and one I make sure to play every Easter, even though Rick Jackson’s Country Hall of Fame is no longer on the air. But what I love about this song as it relates to this blog, is how it pierces the soul as only music can, not only with the liberating power of Christ’s resurrection itself, but also the fact that the incredible privilege of being the first to see the empty tomb, and spread this most important testimony in human history was given to women. That ought to be enough to repudiate complementarian theology once and for all.

Though I strive to keep this blog focused on Christ rather than partisan politics, I have been fully transparent regarding my rebuke of Donald Trump. Jesus was neither a democrat nor a republican, and all elected officials will fall short of God’s righteous standards. But Donald Trump’s conduct is particularly egregious, made worse by the fact that many of his supporters misuse the name of God to condone it. But this does not, by any means justify the assassination attempt on him. Political violence of any kind is inexcusable, not only because it is a threat to the values of liberal democracy, but also because it is unbiblical. Satan is clever in his ability to convince us that political violence can be righteous. Peter no doubt thought he was doing the right thing, defending Jesus by striking Malchus, the servant of the high priest who came to arrest Jesus, with his sword cutting off a piece of his ear. But in addition to Jesus’s rebuke of Peter because his crucifixion had to happen in order for Scripture to be fulfilled, Jesus also said, “Put your sword back in its place, for all who draw the sword will die by the sword” (Matthew 26:52). In other words, Jesus understood that in sinful human hands, violence only leads to more violence, or put another way, anarchy. Our God is a god of law and order—and not in the coded racism sense of the phrase. No one, regardless of ethnicity or socioeconomic status is above the law, and in fact Jesus teaches that those blessed with societal privilege are held to an even higher standard (Mark 12:41-44). We don’t yet know the motive of Thomas Matthew Crooks, the young man who attempted to assassinate Donald Trump, but it wouldn’t surprise me if we find out, consistent with past perpetrators of political violence, that his dislike of Donald Trump was so intense he irrationally believed he was justified in attempting to kill him. The problem is that because of the evil in every human heart, if we start tolerating political violence against anyone, it starts a dangerous cycle of continuous retribution, which carried out to its logical conclusion, can trigger civil war. That is why Jesus insists that until his return and final redemption of Creation, we must submit to the earthly governments of our respective countries, trusting that God will judge justly. Jesus himself could have called on his Father who would have sent “more than twelve legions of angels” to save him, but while on earth, even he submitted to the governing authorities—paying his taxes, and not resisting when he was arrested and ultimately crucified.

That being said, we have a unique privilege that was unheard of in biblical times, the privilege of having some say in who governs us. Thus in our context, wouldn’t loving God with all of our heart, mind, soul and strength involve stewarding this privilege for God’s glory by voting for the candidate whose life shows evidence of good fruit? Couldn’t ministering to “the least of these” in our context include voting for the candidate more likely to take “the least of these” into consideration when enacting policy, rather than thinking only of our own interests?

This past week, Milwaukee hosted the Republican National Convention. We live in a suburb just a short drive from the convention site. My parents and I decided not to venture downtown, but I couldn’t resist watching it every night on television after work. If not for the events of last Saturday, the convention would have been difficult enough to watch, what with speaker after speaker riling up the delegates with alternative facts about the success of Donald Trump’s first term, and downplaying what a second term would mean for “the least of these.” But in light of last Saturday’s tragedy, I have found something especially offensive about the way proponents of Christian Nationalism like Franklin Graham gushed that God saved Trump’s life for a reason. Again, for the record, I’m glad Donald Trump didn’t lose his life last Saturday. Jesus and the apostle Paul both rebuked those who sought to resolve political differences with violence, and if Donald Trump had lost his life, I shutter to think of the anger, the calls for retribution, and societal instability that might have ensued. It is also unbiblical to demonize political opponents as the devil incarnate when they, like us are bearers of God’s image whom we are called to love and pray for, and we are just as capable of the pride and narcissism we criticize in them. And just on a human level, when Donald Trump Jr.’s daughter Kai spoke about how her grandpa gives the grandkids candy and soda when their parents aren’t looking and loved to hear how they were doing in school, it softened my heart a little, not enough to believe he should be our next president, but enough to realize that while most of us only know him from a distance, to some he is Dad or Grandpa, and I cannot imagine how difficult it would have been to have to grieve the loss of your dad or Grandpa with the whole world watching, and a few on social media no doubt taking partisan politics way too far by celebrating his death. I wouldn’t wish this kind of trauma on any family, especially innocent grandchildren like Kai. But to say that God spared Donald Trump for a reason is unbiblical.

Due to his common grace, God allows sun to shine, and rain to fall, on righteous and unrighteous alike (Matthew 5:45). In our context, you could say God allows cancer, car accidents, gun violence to befall righteous and unrighteous alike, and therefore according to Philip Yancey, we should never presume anything about the righteousness of the people involved when say, an earthquake in South America kills a lower percentage of Christians compared to the rest of the population. Given this theological reality, the statement that God spared Donald Trump for a reason is incredibly offensive in its disrespect and dismissiveness toward Corey Comperatore’s grieving family.

But this argument is also flawed because in reality, there is no one righteous, not even one (Romans 3:10). In the context of Matthew 5:45, Jesus is referring to those who have accepted Him as righteous, which theologically speaking, they are because we are saved by faith alone. But sanctification is a lifelong process, and thus, I don’t know about you, but I am always grateful when I am given one more day to try and do better, be a little kinder to my parents, a little more patient with difficult situations at work, a little less envious of other people’s lives. But if my acceptance of Christ could serve as a sort of vaccine that would forever prevent hardship from befalling me in this life, this sanctification would be stunted. I would become complacent, take life for granted, become entitled in the sense that I would see no higher purpose to life than pursuing comfort and pleasure and ultimately, decide I can get along just fine without God. That is why God does not interfere with the laws of nature, or human free will, thus allowing suffering to impact righteous and unrighteous alike (Luke 13:1-5). Put another way, catastrophe “joins together victim and bystander in a call to repentance, by abruptly reminding us of the brevity of life” (Where is God When It Hurts, Philip Yancey page 84). As a baby, I survived a brain tumor which damaged my optic nerve, which is why I am blind. The tumor also damaged my pituitary and this means that occasionally, my electrolytes get off-balance, especially if I catch a stomach bug. Of course, I don’t remember the three surgeries required to treat the tumor itself, or the touch-and-go recovery process after each. But this experience brought the fragility of life into sharper focus for my parents. Then during my 20s, I had to go to the emergency room 3 separate times for aforementioned electrolyte imbalances, which brought the fragility of life into my awareness, and into sharper focus for my parents again. After each of these incidents, I came away with renewed gratitude and appreciation for the little things, like gathering around the dinner table with my parents, savoring the smell of fresh Spring air, or singing along to a beautiful song. The scariest of these experiences was the seizure in 2017 due to low sodium. When I came home from the hospital after that experience, I had what I can only describe as a sort of born-again sensation. A sense of contentment and peace seemed to surround me as I went about my work, and certain things that used to upset me like office drama, I realized just don’t ultimately matter. Instead of getting emotionally invested in the drama, I found I could just smile and go about my work, letting the office drama just swirl around me like meaningless background noise.

The whole nation has been a bystander to the assassination attempt against Donald Trump last Saturday, and many did recognize it as a call to repentance, a recognition that united we stand, divided and polarized we fall, and therefore we need to tone down the rhetoric. Christianity is all about redemption and second chances, and as such, I, like Skye Jethani, a host of The Holy Post podcast, hoped that this incident would serve as a “road to Damascus” moment for Donald Trump, where he, similar to the apostle Paul, might repent for his contribution to the violent rhetoric that led to the incident, take responsibility for the crimes he has committed and make amends to the people he has hurt over his lifetime from the women he sexually assaulted, to the people he cheated in his real estate deals, to the children separated from their parents at the border to the whole country with the “big lie” and the insurrection on January 6, 2021. But judging by his abandonment of the unity speech on the teleprompter in favor of his usual hate-filled tangents, and his ungracious response to Biden’s wrenching decision to withdraw from the race, it is becoming painfully evident that the assassination attempt against him didn’t change him at all. I will grant that with the passage of time, the vividness of God’s grace in keeping you alive can fade, and with it, the appreciation for the fragility of life. In the years since my seizure, I have gotten into a couple bitter arguments with my parents, ironically, over their anxiety about letting me stay home alone because had I been home alone on the occasions my electrolytes got off-balance, I might not have survived. We have come to a compromise where they will let me stay home alone when they occasionally go out of town as long as I promise to keep my phone with me at all times, answer it when they call, and consent to a Ring “spy camera” in the kitchen so they can monitor from a distance if I don’t look well. But my distaste for gossip and drama, as well as shallow television shows that have no socially redeeming value, has stuck with me to this day. So the absence of any noticeable spiritual fruit even in the immediate afterglow of realizing he survived an assassination attempt, is chilling to me.

Donald Trump and proponents of Christian Nationalism did make one theologically correct statement. It is by the grace of God that Donald Trump survived. But sadly, both have a warped understanding of what grace actually means. Since God does not interfere with the laws of nature or human free will, allowing suffering to impact righteous and unrighteous alike, any time someone survives an incident that took the lives of others, it is a blessing that is undeserved, the very definition of grace. But instead of being humbled by this grace from God, it has made Donald Trump, and the proponents of Christian Nationalism who support him more arrogant. If proponents of Christian Nationalism were sincerely interested in true Christianity, they would have viewed Donald Trump’s survival as an opportunity to administer much-needed spiritual care, helping him turn toward God and repent for the behavior that led to this incident, and our country’s polarization in general. Instead, they have reinforced the arrogant notion that God saved Donald Trump for a reason: God is on America’s side, and He has ordained Donald Trump to “make America great again!” And in this way, it would seem human nature hasn’t progressed at all from the Ancient Near East, the cultural context in which the Old Testament was written, when kings were allowed to believe they were God.

That Reminds me of a Song: Just a few days after the hospitalization for my seizure in 2017, I was watching Last Man Standing—a cute sitcom that is no longer on the air—with my parents. In this particular episode, there was a church scene, and in the background, they played Put Your Hand in the Hand, by Ocean. It has a definite 1970s sound, like something that might have been performed at Woodstock. Something about this song struck my born-again brain as particularly beautiful, and I couldn’t stop singing it for days. I didn’t fully realize it then, but looking back, I think it resonated with me because it is all about the importance of humility, and appreciating the peace and grace Christ offers when we put our hand in His hand. In these tumultuous times, that is what we all need to do.

But for the sake of argument, let’s imagine that the motives for Louisiana’s law are pure, and proponents of Louisiana’s law are truly motivated by nothing more than a genuine desire to ensure that in today’s tumultuous world, America’s children have a strong moral foundation. Just as with religious persuasion, moral education is also primarily the responsibility of parents, but given that children generally spend around seven hours a day, five days a week, nine months of the year in school, schools also have a significant influence on the moral education of children. Let us also imagine just for argument’s sake that you also had a genuine desire to make sure every child is exposed to the good news of the gospel, not to make them fully American, but because Jesus is the way, the truth and the life, and you worry if they aren’t exposed to God’s word in school, they never will be and thus they will wander in darkness their whole lives. Other religions, including Humanism, share moral principles in common with Christianity—charity to those in need, compassion and humility—because these basic moral principles are a component of God’s general revelation to all of humanity. But only Christianity offers the hope of eternal salvation. I would still argue there are more appropriate passages to accomplish these purposes than the Ten Commandments. For an example of what I mean, let’s look at Exodus 20:4: “You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below.” Lifelong Christians like David French and myself might not think anything of this commandment on the poster because we are part of the privileged majority and we understand what it really means for our day. While in the Old Testament, people worshipped gold statues of animals that were referred to as idols, every sermon I have heard on Exodus 20:4 agrees that when this principal is carried over to the New Testament, an idol is anything that we prioritize before God in our lives which could include, our career, pleasure, money or power. But for a child from a Hindu family who just sees this poster and doesn’t have the full context of the New Testament, they might go home and feel confused or ashamed by the statues of other gods in their home and depending on the culture where they live, they may even be bullied about this by classmates, even teachers who embrace Christian Nationalism. This is definitely not how Jesus intended for the good news of the gospel to be shared. In fact, this self-righteous, legalistic way of sharing the gospel feels ominously comparable to the behavior of the Pharisees whom Jesus rebuked sharply.

What if, instead, the poster on every classroom wall read, “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs” (1 Corinthians 13:4-5)? It is not overtly religious so as to confuse or shame children of other faiths, or no religion at all. The longing to be loved unconditionally, to be treated with dignity and respect, is a longing planted in the hearts of all humans according to God’s general revelation. Thus, if you insist on having a poster with Scripture in every classroom, at least 1 Corinthians 13:4-5 starts from a place where we can all agree, and these verses have more potential than the Ten Commandments to open doors for the Holy Spirit to prompt a child to tell a Muslim friend about Jesus on the playground, or a Christian parent to reach out to the parents of their child’s Hindu or Atheist friend.

But I think the apostle Paul would say that regardless of the Scripture printed on the poster, Scripture is “only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal” (1 Corinthians 13:1) if the words aren’t lived out in the overall culture of the school. It is also important to remember again that while 1 Corinthians 13:4-5 seems like it would be a mutually acceptable passage for people of all faiths or none at all, my perception may be clouded by the fact that I am part of the privileged Christian majority, and people of other faiths may see even this verse as unwelcome, indirect proselytism in the same category as sacred choral music. Given all of these realities, how about we live at peace with everyone, and honor Christ more appropriately by decorating classroom walls with cheerful artwork, and devote our energy instead to the lived out culture of the school. After all, Jesus taught that the Law and the Prophets can be summed up with one simple principal: “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you” (Matthew 7:12). This is not “chasing God out of the schools.” God is almighty. Nowhere in the universe is beyond His reach. “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast” (Psalm 139:7-10). I think we can safely infer from this beautiful psalm that to fear that the absence of superficial expressions of religion in public schools such as formal prayer time and posters with the Ten Commandments amounts to locking God out reveals a tragic lack of genuine faith.

That Reminds me of a Song: My Catholic education in childhood gave me an excellent Christian moral foundation, but one thing I missed out on was learning fun Sunday School songs. That wasn’t really part of the Catholic tradition. But my mom who was raised in the Quaker tradition, taught some of these songs to me, and as I was writing this, “They’ll Know We Are Christians” came to mind. It has an upbeat melody that would be fun for children to sing. The song is all about seeking unity, honoring each person’s dignity and living in peace. The refrain states, “They’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love. They will know we are Christians by our love.” My mom remembers her parents saying on numerous occasions that if someone has to tell you they are Christian, you should be wary of them. It should be obvious by the fruit of their lives. Thus, in the spirit of this song, true Christians should be wary of proponents of Christian Nationalism who want the Ten Commandments in public school classrooms, while their policies demonstrate contempt for the poor, the orphan, the widow and the refugee, and their rhetoric inspires hate and divisiveness.

And speaking of choir, Christianity inspired such an extensive and rich tradition of choral music that when I attended concerts at other high schools in our area, which we were required to do each semester, the difference in the beauty and sophistication of the music chosen by schools that excluded religious texts was noticeable, and honestly sad. Some schools sang romantic, and sometimes challenging madrigals, but more often than not, the concert was full of choral renditions of silly pop songs. But one year in high school, someone—not the parents of the Muslim boys—complained that the songs our choral director had selected amounted to the unconstitutional promotion of religion in public school. As a high school student, I wasn’t privy to every detail of this situation the choral director had to deal with, but with the hindsight of adulthood, I speculate that my choir director, whose passion for quality choral music was deep, had likely been to such concerts too, and she wasn’t going to let this happen at our school. That is why, I suspect, she abruptly switched from preparing us for a Christmas concert full of sacred English texts, culminating with the Hallelujah Chorus, to a classic Latin requiem. That way, she could argue that songs were chosen strictly for their artistic and educational value, and not for their religious message since no one speaks Latin these days. The position of choir director would be tailor-made for someone who did wish to illegally proselytize in a public school, by giving sermons on the theological significance of the texts we were singing, or having students read the Bible passages that inspired the songs. But my choir director never did anything like that. Thus I am confident that the original English pieces she selected were chosen strictly for their artistic and educational value, but singing Latin music gave additional credibility to this argument. Of course, I acknowledge that my perception could be colored by the fact that I belong to the privileged majority religion, and if I put myself in the shoes of someone from a minority religion or no religion at all, I can appreciate how they might feel as though indirect proselytism was taking place even if this wasn’t the choir director’s intention at all. To be fair, one could argue there is room for ambiguity regarding whether Louisiana’s law requiring a poster with the Ten Commandments in every public school classroom also qualifies as proselytism. It is just a poster after all, and David French, who grew up in Kentucky when the Ten Commandments were posted in every classroom until the Supreme Court deemed Kentucky’s law unconstitutional remarked that “There is a real belief that the Ten Commandments have a form of spiritual power over the hearts and minds of students, and that posting the displays can change their lives.” But he does not believe that documents, in and of themselves radiate powers of personal virtue. As such, these “faded posters” on the wall had no impact on the lives of him or his classmates. It is true that sometimes, adults make a bigger deal of things than they should. But I would still argue that requiring posters of the Ten Commandments in public school classrooms is a threat to religious liberty and a dangerous misrepresentation of Christianity that should be regarded warily by true Christians.

Proponents of Louisiana’s law argue that The Ten Commandments had a profound influence on the founders of this country, and so they view these posters as a historical document to inspire children when they look up at them. It is true that the Bible had a significant influence on our founders. As I was brushing up on my U.S. history for this post, I was struck anew by the number of references to the Bible and God’s laws in the oratory of Thomas Jefferson, James Madison and Patrick Henry. Louisiana state representative Dodie Horton also argued, “The measure allows for our children to look up and see what God says is right, and what he says is wrong. It doesn’t preach a certain religion, but it definitely shows what a moral code we all should live by is.” Our country’s founders should not be idolized or mythologized. We should not let the inspiring biblical references in their oratory cloud the reality that they, like all of us lived lives that fell far short of God’s righteous standards, evidenced by their hypocrisy in speaking inspiring rhetoric about creating a nation free of tyranny when they owned slaves. But they were right about the importance of complete religious liberty, to allow both the nation, and genuine religious expression to flourish. This is not to say that even in the aftermath of the American Revolution, there wasn’t a temptation to declare America a Christian nation. According to the website of the Colonial Williamsburg museum, historians debate whether Patrick Henry, the first governor of Virginia following the Declaration of Independence, actually said “Give me liberty or give me death!” He never wrote out his speeches in advance, so they have been reconstructed based on accounts of other people. But if he did say these words, I find it ironic that he did not make the connection that complete religious liberty is a crucial component of overall liberty. In The Religious History of America, Edwin Gaustad and Leigh Schmidt lay out how, before the Revolution, the only officially recognized religion was the Anglican church of England. All other forms of religious expression, including other Christian denominations, faced persecution. After the Revolution, everyone recognized that some degree of disassociation with the tyranny imposed by the church of England was necessary, but some feared that abandoning all governmental alliance with religion would turn “all history and society upside down” (The Religious History of America Page 124). To that end, Patrick Henry and the legislature of Virginia were tempted to compromise by not establishing any particular church or sect, but Christianity itself as the official religion. Patrick Henry argued that this compromise would not discriminate against (Christian) dissenters yet it would “help safeguard the social and moral order that a new state needed even more than before” (Page 124). Of course in practice, we have always fallen short of our founders ideal of complete religious liberty. The cruel attempt to erase Native American culture by requiring Native American Children to attend abusive boarding schools, a practice that persisted through the 1970s, is a sad testament to this, as is the Islamophobia and antisemitism that persist to this day. But in theory, the arguments for full religious liberty ultimately won out. In a Memorial and Remonstrance written in opposition to Patrick Henry’s bill, James Madison argued that “legislators simply do not have the right, much less the wisdom, to set themselves up as judges of religious truth” (Page 125). Only “the Supreme Lawgiver of the Universe” is truly qualified to make laws pertaining to religion, and He chose to give humankind freedom of conscience. In 1789, the first paragraph of the Virginia Statute for Religious freedom, composed by Thomas Jefferson declared that, “Whereas Almighty God hath created the mind free; that all attempts to influence it by temporal punishment, or burthens, or by civil incapacitations, tend only to beget habits of hypocrisy and meanness, and are a departure from the plan of the Holy author of our religion, who being Lord both of body and mind, yet chose not to propagate it by coercions on either, as was his Almighty power to do.”

Furthermore, James Madison argued that if Virginia could establish Christianity to the exclusion of all other religions today, what would stop them from establishing a particular denomination of Christianity tomorrow, putting Virginia right back where they started before fighting a Revolution to end tyranny. After all, as Boston Minister Jonathan Mayhew (1720-1766) pointed out, “People are not generally deprived of their liberties all at once, but gradually, by one encroachment after another, as it is found they are disposed to bear them” (Page 123). Thus, I would argue that if we truly wanted to honor the legacy of our founders, we would keep all blatant references to religion—“you shall have no other Gods before me” (Exodus 20:3)—out of public schools. I speculate that Thomas Jefferson and James Madison, if they were alive today, would oppose Louisiana’s law, arguing that religious persuasion should be the sole responsibility of parents until children are old enough to think for themselves. I also speculate that Jonathan Mayhew would join ranks with people like Catherine Stewart, author of The Power Worshippers, who has shown that small victories like Louisiana’s law should not be dismissed as isolated incidents, but as part of a larger war to chip away at public education so that the prosperity and privilege that comes with a high quality education is accessible only to (predominantly white) children of the right religious persuasion. Thus, the Ten Commandments law is in reality closely related to the seemingly unrelated and separate battles over book bans, Bible study clubs inside public schools, and vouchers to give parents “choice.” I would also say the volatility of school board meetings surrounding these battles in recent years are the definition of hypocrisy and meanness, as is Governor Landry’s comment “I can’t wait to be sued.” This is definitely at odds with the teachings of Jesus: “Blessed are the peacemakers (Matthew 5:9). And how does he know he will be sued? Because the decision to pass this law demonstrates a willful disregard for Supreme Court precedent, and the teaching of the apostle Paul: “Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established” (Romans 13:1).

In the Old Testament, God commands the Israelites to wage war, using the Israelites to manifest his justice by punishing wicked nations. In the New Testament, neither Jesus nor the apostles directly discuss whether war is justified, and the Pacifists and the proponents of Just War theory can both find verses in the New Testament that compellingly support their positions. So perhaps like many aspects of the Christian life, this is a matter where Christians have freedom of conscience. Perhaps God calls some to be a godly influence on the battlefield, helping to ensure that war is conducted with sobriety, seeking as far as is humanly possible to distinguish true, hard-hearted perpetrators of evil from innocent civilians, or even enemy combatants conscripted or violently coerced to fight for a wicked cause they don’t really believe in, and may not even understand as conscripts are often poor, uneducated victims of government propaganda. Other Christians, God may call to serve in vocations that seek to prevent war. According to Myles Werntz, the position of the true pacifist is not one of naïve optimism, but simply a recognition that while war may resolve a particular conflict in the short-term, it often “creates the conditions and fractures that will lead to and justify the next war” (War, Peace and Violence, Page 69). I fear the Israel Hamas War proves this point. Two things can be simultaneously true. It is true that what Hamas did on October 7 was horrific and inexcusable, and that they intentionally use civilians as human shields so that the world would turn against Israel. But it is also true that Israel has been oppressing the Palestinian people for decades, driving them from their land and relegating them to Gaza, which I have heard described as a ghetto, and that the right-wing administration of Netanyahu has crossed the line from precisely targeting Hamas infrastructure, into a war of vengeance, just as we did after 9/11. And I fear this lack of concern for civilians in Gaza may mean that as we speak seeds of hatred are being sown in the hearts of Palestinian children whose lives have been torn apart by the war, and they will grow up to be the next generation of terrorists, continuing the cycle of violence. Thus I believe the world needs the voices of committed Christians who have an accurate understanding of the Just War position and the Pacifist position because “just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others” (Romans 12:4-5).

However if you carefully apply the biblical principles laid out by proponents of the Just War theory, I would argue that with the possible exception of World War II, the United States has never fought a just war. I say “possible exception” because while a compelling biblical argument could be made to support the position that we had a duty to assist Europe in the defeat of Hitler whom C. S. Lewis was right to call a homicidal maniac, the United States also had its fair share of antisemitism, and Hitler drew inspiration for Germany’s eugenics laws from the American eugenics movement. We should also keep in mind that Russia was one of our allies during World War II, yet Stalin was also a homicidal maniac who murdered millions of people. As for Japan, a compelling argument could be made that we had to respond to the attack on Pearl Harbor which killed 2,400 Americans. Japan attacked Pearl Harbor because they wanted to modernize by becoming a colonial power, and fearing American retaliation if they expanded into the Philippines, Japan hoped that attacking Pearl Harbor would weaken our military. But we should not forget that we were also a colonial power who unjustly acquired territory in the Pacific via conquest, and to this day, we have yet to fully acknowledge and repent for our subjugation of indigenous people in these territories. True Christianity cannot dismiss the reality that “there is no one righteous, not even one” (Romans 3:10). Even if our involvement in World War II was just, we frequently violated biblical principles for fighting a just war. On a personal note, our involvement on the Pacific front during World War II is particularly complicated because my maternal grandfather (Papaw) served in the Philippines, so it is possible that if we hadn’t dropped the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the war would have dragged on much longer, my Papaw could have been killed and I wouldn’t be here. But in college, I read the book Hiroshima by John Hersey. In this book, Hersey documents the lives of 6 survivors of the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima, and the magnitude of suffering, both in the immediate aftermath of the bomb, and the long-term effects of radiation sickness was chilling. After reading Hiroshima, anyone with any humanity in them should seriously contemplate whether the staggering loss of life—100,000 in Hiroshima—and the suffering innocent civilians had to endure was out of proportion to the attack on Pearl Harbor. Committed Christians are free to hold different positions on whether war is permissible, but Genesis 1:26 is non-negotiable. If all humans were created in God’s image, then a Christian discussion of war cannot place greater value on American lives than on Japanese civilians.

I just finished reading The Power Worshippers by Catherine Stewart. The documentary God and Country was actually based on this book, which shows how numerous organizations which much of the American public thinks are grassroots Christian organizations, are actually part of a well-funded, interconnected network that is threatening religious liberty, democracy, and I would argue, the true teachings of Jesus. One of the prominent figures in the Christian Nationalism movement that Catherine Stewart profiled was Ralph Drollinger, who founded Capitol Ministries, an organization that creates Bible studies for members of Congress that were also attended by many in President Trump’s cabinet. These Bible studies are also available for free to the public, so for research purposes, I downloaded Drollinger’s two-part Bible study titled The Bible on When War is Justifiable.

I have often written here that Christian Nationalism is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and this Bible study is a prime example of this. It is not that this study is complete heresy, a misrepresentation of biblical teaching. Its advocacy of Just War theory is biblically sound. But there are two problems with this study that jumped out at me, problems that pose a threat to the credibility of Christianity for a watching, secular world, but subtle enough to lead vulnerable sheep astray. First, although this Bible study accurately presents the biblical argument for the Just War theory, it gives credence to this position only. It inaccurately presents the Pacifist position as a naïve optimism, and calls it unbiblical and irresponsible. Sincere commitment to teaching biblical principles requires accurately and impartially presenting arguments for both of these positions. Second, this Bible study bares false witness when it comes to applying Just War principles to our country’s history. In Part 2 of this Bible study, after summarizing the four principles for fighting a just war, Drollinger states, “Fortunately and historically, America’s culture of war has largely been informed by these principles, and our nation has demonstrated these values in its use of force.” The truth is that from our use of the atomic bomb in World War II, to the devastating consequences of Agent Orange in Vietnam, to our indefinite detention without a trial, and torture of people at Guantanamo Bay, our history is full of violations of the biblical principles for fighting a just war. In Part 1, Drollinger accurately teaches that “To in any way invade, usurp or colonize another nation is the wrong objective for the use of war,” but then inaccurately proclaims, “Thank God that this Genesis 11:8 idea is deeply, unwaveringly embedded in our nation’s fabric.” The truth is that deeply, and unwaveringly embedded in our fabric, from the genocide of Native Americans and our theft and plunder of lands they stewarded beautifully for thousands of years, to our usurpation of Vietnam’s desire for independence from the French, is a history of colonization and usurpation of the sovereignty of other nations. Taken together, these two problems reveal figures like Ralph Drollinger to be dangerous wolves leading vulnerable sheep astray by teaching American idolatry, but disguising it well in biblical clothing.

Christian Nationalism is an ideology with a spectrum, and fortunately, I would say my church is on the mild end of the spectrum. It does not sing patriotic songs, meddle in partisan politics, or have an American flag on the pulpit. It is overall a wonderful church with pastors committed to sound biblical teaching. But to some extent, Christian Nationalism is woven into our country’s  history such that it is as ubiquitous and unavoidable as the air we breathe. The Sunday before Memorial Day, a Vietnam veteran began the service with a prayer. Please understand that what I am about to say next is not intended to imply any disrespect toward this veteran who likely mourns the loss of dear comrades every Memorial Day. I can understand how it might be too painful, even disrespectful on the solemn occasion of Memorial Day, after witnessing firsthand the brutality of war, to give voice to the truth that our government’s rationale for subjecting him and his comrades to this trauma was unjust. Overall, it was a very nice prayer. It first gave glory to God, and then he prayed for the day when wars would cease and peace would prevail, and asked God to comfort the families of fallen soldiers. But in words so reflexive I used to utter them without a second thought, he thanked God for the soldiers who died so that we could be free. The thing is, Craig Watts, in his book Bowing Toward Babylon, points out that religious freedom was never at stake in a single American war. Most of our wars were wars of colonial conquest, or wars to usurp the sovereignty of “weak” nations, wars that had nothing to do with defending freedom or punishing evil.

I do not write all of this because I hate America. This past Sunday’s episode of 60 Minutes featured an Iranian national who sought asylum in America because her government wanted to kill her for her involvement in protests against the oppression of women in Iran. But it turned out that Iran secretly hired a hit man in America to spy on her, and kill her when he got the opportunity. Our government alerted her to this plot and is providing protection for her. Through tears she said, “my home country is trying to kill me, but my adopted country is protecting me.” This about made me cry too, and I sensed the Holy Spirit convicting me, reminding me that despite all of our country’s problems, it is not sinful to acknowledge when we have been a force for good. But American idolatry is not an expression of genuine love. It is a superficial love, similar to the love parents think they are showing when they believe their belligerent child can do no wrong and thus never disciplines him, which ultimately hurts the child long-term. In fact, love of God and genuine love of country go hand in hand in the sense that we show our love for God by being careful stewards of the sphere of influence he has given us in this life. So it is out of genuine love that I feel called to speak truth, and the truth is that the common thread among friends and family that no longer want to call themselves Christian is not feminism, or science, or liberal college professors. It is Christian Nationalism. Our watching pluralistic society is longing for the authentic Christianity Jesus preached, which does not glorify literal war, or worship worldly power, but stands against these dark forces with the belt of truth buckled around our waists, the breastplate of righteousness in place, our feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the Gospel of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit which is the word of God (Ephesians 6:14-17).

That Reminds Me of a Song: Please forgive me for sharing a Christmas song in June, but this song perfectly encompasses the sentiments I have tried to express here. Belleau Wood, sung by Garth Brooks, tells the story of what became known as the Christmas truce of 1914, when German and British soldiers came out of their trenches and sang Silent Night together. Two lines of this song are especially poignant to me. First, the narrator notices a German soldier standing beside him smiling as if to say, “Here’s hoping we might live to see us find a better way.” Then, sadly but predictably, the song ends with “the devil’s clock” striking midnight and the war raging once again, but in that brief, heavenly moment, it became so clear to the narrator that “Heaven’s not beyond the clouds. It’s just beyond the fear.” In that moment, God gave those soldiers a glimpse of how his creation was supposed to be. Christian Nationalism is an ideology fueled by fear of increasing secularism and the collapse of American culture, and I suspect this ideology’s glorification of war, its unwillingness to acknowledge our country’s history of unjust wars, is a manifestation of this fear. I am actually planning another post to unpack this more, but for now, I pray this song might remind us that while God doesn’t forbid war as a means of justice in this fallen world, it wasn’t supposed to be this way. Here’s hoping for a revival of an authentic Christianity willing to repent of our history, cast aside ungodly fear so that we might not have to wait until Christ’s return to see us find a better way.

But I had heard that in the Western manifestation of Socialism in countries like Norway, Denmark and France where all workers receive six weeks of paid vacation a year and the government provides free college tuition, universal healthcare and affordable childcare, people are happier. I was fortunate that I could live with my parents, so I didn’t have the stress of trying to make ends meet every month, but like my coworkers, I was starting to experience symptoms of burnout and depression with only five days of PTO per year. One day when Bernie Sanders came to Milwaukee, a contingent of them went to his rally together after work. I didn’t feel like going to a rally, but I was excited to vote for him. I didn’t think he had a chance—just like I thought Donald Trump didn’t have a chance—but in my mind, and in the minds of a lot of young people I interacted with, maybe a little France or Denmark-style Socialism was what this country needed to straighten out the corporate greed and our terrible health and happiness statistics compared with other Western countries. I didn’t know anything about Bernie Sanders’s religious background at the time—I recently found out he is Jewish—but I suspected that the Christian faith right-wing candidates talked about on the campaign trail wasn’t always genuine, and Bernie Sanders’s righteous anger about corporate greed reminded me of Jesus’s righteous anger when he overturned the money tables in the temple.

But with maturity, I have come to understand that my idolization of Socialism was misguided: indeed the idolization of any political ideology is misguided. Because of our fallen state, every form of earthly government we institute will fall short of God’s righteous standard. In Jesus and the Powers, N.T. Wright and Michael Bird explain that as compelling as Marxist ideology sounds in theory, with its concern for the poor, and its commitment to social justice, virtues that Christians would agree with, Communism falls woefully short because it articulates “a vision of Messianic justice, but without God” (Chapter 6). It tries to bring heavenly justice to earth by violent revolution, and tries to manufacture the conditions where the last will be first and the first will be last, when as Christians, we know that true prosperity and justice will only come when hearts are changed. Communism also falls short in that it lacks the doctrine of total depravity, meaning that it calls Capitalism, the bourgeois and factory owners evil, but fails to recognize that evil runs through every human heart. Proponents of Communism have cited Acts 4:32 to argue that the Bible endorses Communism. This verse reads “All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they shared everything they had.” But what the church in Acts 4:32 displayed was not actually Communism. Communism is like cake batter with the eggs left out. It cannot hold together long because the sharing of possessions and the common ownership of everything is compelled by force, whereas the church in Acts 4:32—a foretaste of God’s eternal kingdom—had the underappreciated but essential eggs of the Holy Spirit, who transformed their hearts such that this radical lifestyle was voluntary, genuine and lived out with joy.

Proponents of capitalism meanwhile site Matthew 25:14-30, the Parable of the Talents, to argue that Jesus endorses capitalism. But according to Morgan Guyton, this passage is neither an endorsement, nor a condemnation of capitalism itself, but rather an illustration contrasting two different kinds of fear. The first two servants, given the equivalent of $2 million and $800,000 respectively, displayed a healthy kind of fear, a reverent fear of the Lord, which allowed them to be entrepreneurs, fearlessly stewarding the money given to them without the worldly fear that they would lose it all or be punished. By contrast, the third servant exhibited a cowardly, worldly fear of punishment, viewing his master as a hard man who harvests where he did not sow. This kind of fear exhibited by the third servant is what led to the price gouging of pilgrims to Jerusalem when they had to exchange Caesar’s currency for Tyrian currency and buy animal sacrifices from the temple vendors. And this kind of fear is what leads the moneychangers of our day to exploit loopholes in the market to siphon money, living in constant fear of scarcity, no matter how much money they have. Though God’s image in us was damaged by the fall, God’s purpose for humanity, to rule over Creation for his glory, has not been rescinded, and an economic system is an important component for bringing order to human societies. So money itself is not evil, nor is it sinful for a person gifted with entrepreneurial skills or an innovative idea to acquire tremendous wealth in a capitalist society. In fact, in his book The Spirit of the Disciplines, Dallas Willard points out that “possession and direction of the forces of wealth are as legitimate an expression of the redemptive rule of God in human life as is Bible teaching or a prayer meeting” and the poor would actually benefit more from the godly controlling the goods of this world than from Christians performing a “pious handwashing”, potentially relinquishing their wealth to people who do not honor God (Page 214). It really is the love of money, the worship of and trust in money over God, that is the root of all kinds of evil (1 Timothy 6:10).

When Paul wrote Romans 13:1-2, which states that Christians must submit themselves to the governing authorities because all government authorities have been established by God, the concept of a liberal democracy where the people elect political representatives, was unheard of. For most of human history, monarchies were the norm, and during his lifetime, kings were especially brutal in their persecution of the early Christian church. But perhaps what Paul was trying to teach was first and foremost, that by His resurrection, Christ had already ultimately won victory over the dark powers of the world, but also that the persecution he was experiencing, and the persecution Scripture foretold would persist until Christ returned, could persist under any and every human political experiment, or God could be glorified under any political system because the problem is not with the type of government itself, or whether the elected leader is a Democrat or a Republican. The problem is that just as cowardly fear leading to the love of and trust in money is possible in any economic system, so cowardly fear leading to the love of and trust in power or status is a temptation under any and every political system. Overthrowing the government would accomplish nothing in terms of improving the circumstances of the oppressed, nor in terms of “taking America back for God.” It is a rebellion against God because it trusts in worldly trappings to address problems that only reverent fear of God can address. You can stage a coup and install a new king. You can replace monarchy with democracy. But if the reverent fear of God is absent, the oppression will simply continue under a new name. Today, because of our dark history of colonization, we associate monarchies with tyranny, but this tyranny is not caused by the concept of a monarchy itself. It is caused by the king’s lack of reverence for God. Everyone in society could prosper under a benevolent king who recognized that his responsibility is to “defend the afflicted among the people and save the children of the needy” and “crush the oppressor” (Psalm 72:4). In theory, everyone should prosper under a government of the people, by the people and for the people, but we know all too well that even with our Constitution with its checks and balances, corruption, lust for power, and the cowardly fear of persecution or cultural irrelevance—stand in the way of government truly working for all people.

Of course, given that evil runs through every human heart, it should come as no surprise that you will find corruption and a lust for power on both sides of the political aisle. But the Christian Nationalism ideology that has pervaded the Republican Party is particularly dangerous in my view because it is an attempt to manufacture a Christian nation without Christ. According to Michael Bird and N.T. Wright, “Christian Nationalism is impoverished as it seeks a kingdom without a cross. It pursues a victory without mercy. It acclaims the love of God’s power rather than the power of God’s love” (Chapter 6). And it confuses and repels the very secular society Christ called us to witness to.

But by imploring Christians to reject Christian Nationalism, I am not at all implying that Christians should “opt for an escapist piety in the present and a distant heaven in the future, leaving the present world untouched lest they get embroiled in its messy ways” (Jesus and the Powers Chapter 3). But neither should they opt for the candidate who panders to Christians with the promise of fighting culture wars on their behalf but whose fruit of the spirit, if he possesses any at all is “not hanging low enough to be picked” (Tim Alberta, The Kingdom, The Power and the Glory Page 24), over the candidate who generally speaking, has demonstrated genuine compassion for the marginalized of our society. We are called to speak truth to power, carrying on the tradition of the prophets of ancient Israel, and the early Christian church. This means focusing less on who is in power or how they acquired their power, and more on whether, now that they have acquired power, they are exercising their authority with Psalm 72:4 at the forefront of their mind, a standard which by the way is part of God’s general revelation, the conscience he created in every human being and that every human even if they profess to have no religion at all, can freely choose to obey or disregard (Romans 2:14-15). As such, it is possible for the marginalized to prosper with a professed humanist or Atheist for president who rules in reverent fear of the Lord—even though they wouldn’t call it that—by governing with a conscience. And time and again, history has proven that tyranny is the result when government is controlled by “Pharisees” whose rule is based on religious hegemony and enforced legalism, with no interest in mercy, who love God’s power more than the power of God’s love.

Regardless of who wins the election in November, I will respect Romans 13:1-2 and John 19:11 where even Jesus acknowledges that the Father has given governing authority to humans. I will not participate in or condone an insurrection. We will have to speak truth to power no matter who wins the election because all earthly government falls short of God’s righteous standard. At the same time, we should not take for granted that we have a privilege unimaginable in Jesus and Paul’s day, the privilege of having a say in who acquires power. What if we as Christians redefined what it means to “take America back for God” and use this historically unprecedented privilege to vote with a reverent fear of the Lord, with Psalm 72:4—not the latest culture war—at the forefront of our minds, rather than succumbing to the cowardly fear of persecution or cultural irrelevance?

That Reminds me of a Song: As I was writing this, The Wanderer, a collaboration of Johnny Cash and U2 came to my mind. It is an abstract song, so abstract that I consulted Wikipedia for its backstory. The song was written by U2, a modern take on the Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes, where the Preacher wanders through a post-apocalyptic world to find meaning and experience everything a man can before he repents. But Bono, the lead singer for U2 said the song had to be sung by Johnny Cash because he had the voice and the life story that this song required. Even before learning the backstory of this song, it always struck me that Christian Nationalism was referenced in this bleak world the narrator wandered through. The line that always gives me chills is, “I stopped outside a church house, where the citizens like to sit. They say they want the kingdom, but they don’t want God in it.” This reminded me of the churches Tim Alberta profiled where the American flag or partisan politics took precedence over Christ. Later Johnny Cash sings, “I went walking, with a Bible and a gun. The word of God lay heavy on my heart. I was sure I was the one” which I interpret as a reference to the self-righteous attitude of some on the far right who think they are honoring God when in fact they are conflating Christianity with American culture and a toxic masculinity that bares no resemblance to Christ. These lyrics, combined with dystopian and at times haunting background music poignantly portrays a bleak, post-apocalyptic world without a soul, where Christian Nationalism seems to be a feature. Let’s do our part to make sure the bleak world portrayed in this song doesn’t come to be.

It just so happens that in God’s perfect timing, the day after my parents and I saw God and Country in the theater, the sermon in church was on Daniel 9. In Daniel 9, Daniel who was a teenager when first kidnapped by Nebuchadnezzar, is now an elderly man, and he is offering a prayer of corporate repentance. He is confessing that God is righteous and just, and his people deserved his judgment against them for their collective sin. But for the sake of God’s reputation in a watching Pagan world, Daniel pleas with God for God’s mercy and forgiveness.

When I first wrote about our church’s study of Daniel in January, I mentioned that I felt frustrated because there were so many opportunities for application of the book of Daniel to the American church’s epidemic of Christian Nationalism that I felt our church was tiptoeing around. I was relatively confident the church leadership wasn’t actively promoting this counterfeit religion. They do honor military service which bothers me slightly, but they have never endorsed a political candidate or invited political operatives into the church. But was my church complicit in the sense of ignoring the giant elephant in the room, similar to the Christian playground ethic that if you witness someone being bullied but stand by doing nothing, you are complicit even if you didn’t actively participate in the bullying? Or was my church merely treading lightly, using tact and wisdom to speak the truth, but subtly so as not to alienate people with different perspectives? This I could understand. As satisfying as it would be for the pastor to affirm the hypocrisy of Christians getting behind Donald Trump, it is a slippery slope between speaking this truth, and implying that Jesus would be a Democrat, a mistake some churches make on the other extreme. Not only would sliding down this slippery slope alienate people, but it is also unbiblical. Sure, you could argue that Democrats are more committed to social justice and equality right now, but Jesus would rebuke the behavior of both Democrats and Republicans if he returned today, just as he rebuked Caesar’s government and the religious leaders during his earthly ministry. Jesus had no partisan loyalties, and neither should we. Sadly, these days, I cannot help but view all Christian media and pastors with suspicion, listening for the subtle code words to discern where they stand before I can fully trust them. So I was so delighted by the sermon on Daniel 9, given by our church’s pastor of Missions, that I e-mailed him a note of encouragement. First, he remarked that the American church also needs to pray a prayer of corporate repentance, and for God’s reputation to be restored for his sake, not so we can “get the right person into the white house so that we can have things our way again.” Then a few minutes later, he made a connection between Daniel 9 and Matthew 5:13, using as an example the fact that him and his wife made the decision to send their children to public school because Christians cannot be salt and light to the world if we isolate ourselves from it.

In other words, whether we want to be or not, God calls us all to be influencers, but instead of persuading people to spend money on a silly cup or fashion item, we have the privilege, and responsibility of leading  people to Christ and eternal life. In a sermon on Matthew 5:13, John MacArthur quoted Elihu Burritt, a humanitarian activist (1810-1879) who described our responsibility as influencers in a sobering way: “Thousands of my fellow beings will yearly enter eternity with characters differing from those they would have carried thither had I never lived.” But at the root of Christian Nationalism is a misguided understanding of how Christians ought to influence the broader society. Only God knows what is in anyone’s heart, but I suspect that some politicians, pastors and high-level political operatives do not have a genuine personal relationship with Christ but are using Christians to gain political power. But as I was reading The Kingdom, The Power and the Glory, I could tell by the way Tim Alberta depicted some of the political operatives and pastors promoting Christian Nationalism that they have charismatic personalities that draw in ordinary people who could be my friends, relatives and neighbors. Just as a charismatic salesman can cause even educated people to fall for a scam, so I believe charismatic pastors and political operatives have persuaded good people who have a genuine personal relationship with Christ and want to do what is right to buy into what I have called counterfeit Christianity, a scam with potentially eternal consequences.

This became especially apparent to me in Chapter 8 when Tim Alberta discussed how Matthew 5:13 has been twisted by proponents of Christian Nationalism. Chad Conelly, a political operative Tim Alberta met in Ohio, had a compelling Christian testimony and a charismatic personality. Nonetheless, he declared to an audience gathered in the atrium of the Ohio state Capitol building, a stop on the American Restoration Tour, “If Christians who outnumber all the whiners and complainers and God-haters in America, if Christians would just be the salt and light Jesus asked us to be, we wouldn’t have this mess” (Page 164). There is so much biblically wrong with this statement, it would be laughable if the ramifications for all the evangelicals people like Conelly were leading astray weren’t so serious. First, Jesus never used immature, demeaning language—whiners and complainers—to characterize anyone. He certainly got angry on a couple occasions and rebuked self-righteous hypocrites. But even his rebukes were spoken in a spirit of love, calling all to repent of their wicked ways and follow him, and he would forgive them and reward them with eternal life. Second, and just as important, Jesus taught that we are sent into the world, but we were never supposed to love the world (John 17:14-16). By pursuing political power and privilege, aren’t we allowing ourselves to become too comfortable in the world? I love reading about the early church, who understood that being the salt of the earth meant being rubbed into the world like salt rubbed into meat to preserve it, and yet being distinct from it, caring for the sick that the Pagan world wouldn’t touch, adopting babies that the Pagan world abandoned.

Jim Wright, an audience member Tim Alberta interviewed after another stop of the American Restoration Tour, a church, said, “Some Christians say we should stay out of politics, that we don’t have to worry about any of this because this isn’t our home. But it is our home right now. And the persecution that’s all around the world is coming for us” (Page 174). Therefore, Jim Wright believed Christians were justified in pursuing partisan victories to keep this persecution at bay. The first half of Wright’s statement has a grain of truth in it. In the prophet Jeremiah’s day, when God allowed the Israelites to be carried off to Babylon as judgment for their sins, false prophets were spreading alternative facts, giving people false hope that this exile would be so brief it wasn’t worth settling down in Babylon. God gave Jeremiah the responsibility of speaking the truth, that this exile would last 70 years, so they should build houses, settle down, marry, have children. And they should also “seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper” (Jeremiah 29:7). We too should think of ourselves as exiles in a Pagan world, but while faith alone is all that is necessary for salvation, if our faith is genuine, it should render us unable to ignore the injustice in the world. Moreover, in his Great Commission, Jesus did not command his disciples to hunker down in a monastery and pray. He commanded them to go out into the world, spreading the gospel and that is what we are supposed to do too. Of course, most of us in this day and age are not called to be itinerant preachers, but we can still “preach the gospel at all times, and when necessary, use words” (Saint Francis of Assisi).

But the second half of Jim Wright’s statement is misguided. After all, immediately preceding Matthew 5:13 is Matthew 5:11-12 which reads, “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” We are not being persecuted. Sure, some states could have handled pandemic restrictions more tactfully. Christians who argue that bars and stores should not have been open while churches were required to shut down have a valid point. But a building with people packed close together in pews is not necessary for worship. People could still gather for worship outdoors, and the government did not block the websites of churches who livestreamed worship every Sunday. To say even then that Christians were persecuted, I think is an insult to parts of the world where Christians have to worship in whispers, and could be arrested, tortured or killed for worshipping Jesus. True persecution may be our reality someday. In fact, one pastor at my church pointed out that Jesus does not say “blessed are you if people persecute you.” He believed Jesus’s use of the word “when” is intentional. Persecution is a reality of our fallen world where the Bible, on numerous occasions prophesies that most people will reject Jesus, and hate those who follow him. The level of religious freedom we have in the United States is an anomaly, not the historic norm, and while I am grateful and hope that doesn’t change, Jim Wright may be half-correct that persecution is coming for us. But given that the Bible prophesies that persecution is an entrenched reality of this fallen world, pledging allegiance to either political party with the hope of keeping persecution at bay is like building your house on sinking sand (Matthew 7:26-27). It is foolish to think that mortal, fallen human politicians will be able to keep at bay what Jesus prophesied is entrenched in our fallen world, and because politics is a product of “the world” and it is apparent that most politicians are motivated by accruing power, not a genuine faith, both parties would be capable of perpetrating persecution. We are not being the salt of the earth by working for partisan victories. In fact, the hateful rhetoric that always accompanies these partisan efforts renders Christianity as repulsive as the smell of rotting meat to a watching world. We are the salt of the earth when we behave as the early church did, showing compassion for the poor, the sick, the oppressed, when the fruits of the spirit are evident in the way we treat our family, coworkers, neighbors, people that aggravate us. I am not looking forward to the day when real persecution may come for us, but I would rather endure it as the early church did and show I am Christian by my love then potentially forfeit eternal life by pledging allegiance to a political party whose power is fleeting and who ultimately will not be able to keep persecution at bay.

That Reminds me of a Song: I grew up Catholic, and while I wasn’t fond of some of the songs we sang in church—they felt like dirges—I loved one particular song we sang on occasion, and it came back to my memory as I wrote this blog. Bring Forth the Kingdom begins by referencing Matthew 5:13, “You are salt of the earth oh people, salt for the kingdom of God.” The refrain admonishes Christians to “Bring forth the kingdom of mercy, bring forth the kingdom of peace, bring forth the kingdom of justice, bring forth the city of God.” The sermons in the Catholic church were not as bible-focused as the sermons at the church I attend today, so back then I didn’t fully understand the concept of God’s kingdom and how we are to offer the world a foretaste of this eternal kingdom here and now. But this song had the right theology, and when I think of it, it makes me smile and strive to preach the gospel with the same lively spirit as conveyed by this song.

It was an excellent movie that I would highly recommend seeing if you haven’t already. I especially appreciated how the movie didn’t just address this movement’s threat to Democracy, but its threat to the reputation of Christianity itself in secular society, an important element that I believe Christian scholars have an obligation to address. To that end, the quote that stood out to me the most from this movie was spoken by a black man who represented Repairer’s of the Breach. (His name flashed on the screen for the sighted people, but I didn’t catch it.) He remarked that a hallmark of Christian Nationalism is that it is very loud regarding issues Jesus says very little about—abortion, same-sex marriage—and silent on issues Jesus spoke a lot about, like compassion for the poor.

During my blogging hiatus, I also read The Kingdom The Power and the Glory, written by Tim Alberta, a reporter for The Atlantic, as well as a committed Christian whose father was a pastor. In 2019, shortly after the launch of American Carnage, a book Tim Alberta wrote that was critical of Donald Trump and his alliance with Evangelicals, his father died unexpectedly of a heart attack. When he returned home for the funeral, he and his wife were shocked by horrible things that were said to him about this work by church elders he had known most of his life, on the occasion of his father’s funeral. This, along with the last conversation with his father that now haunted him, inspired him to turn away from political reporting and embark on this project, which he viewed as a project of eternal significance, an investigation of his Evangelical tradition and its abandonment of the Gospel for imperial citizenship and earthly power. Each chapter began with a quote from Jesus, and then the chapter would illustrate how people in the Christian Nationalism movement would twist Jesus’s words out of context, or misinterpret them. We have all at some point in our lives been hurt by someone who misinterprets something we said, or twists something we said out of context, but as much as these human misunderstandings upset us, how much more must it upset Jesus to have his words twisted, or exploited for temporal, worldly power?

While I work my remote call center job, I love to listen to Family Radio. For the first half of my typical shift, this station plays beautiful hymns, and then the second half is devoted to biblical teaching from several different pastors. I reveal this information not to sound holier than thou. I am not against people listening to secular music while they work, and I have done so myself. But while I am extremely grateful for this job with a company committed to the employment of blind people, where I have a level of support I don’t think I would find anywhere else, like any job in this fallen world, it causes me to grumble sometimes. It can get tedious, and sometimes takes me out of my comfort zone. I found that this station sooths me in a way that secular stations could not. The beautiful music for the first half of my shift is calming and has soothed my anxiety on a few occasions, and the Bible teaching of the second half is intellectually stimulating, alleviating some of the tedium. If a sermon is interrupted by a call, all of the programs are available as podcasts which I can give my undivided attention after work, but there is often three or four minutes of downtime between calls, long enough to hear most of the sermon and get the gist of it.

One of these programs is Grace to You, the ministry of John MacArthur. Now, I must include a disclaimer here. I don’t fully condone all the teachings of John MacArthur. He is a complementarian—a view which espouses that there are significant differences between men and women—to the extreme. Of course, there are biological differences between men and women. Only women can give birth to babies or nurse babies, and because men produce testosterone, my dad has the physical strength to do certain chores that Mom and I do not have. But some of MacArthur’s teachings imply that women are less intelligent, less capable of living morally, which make me want to scream at him through the radio sometimes. In Jesus and John Wayne, Kristin Kobes Du Mez writes about how as president of Masters Seminary, John MacArthur failed to comply with the Violence Against Women Act, which I speculate is probably because he doesn’t believe women should be in college, the purpose of which is to prepare people for careers outside the home, to begin with. Their place is in the home. Of course, God’s ways are higher than our ways, and so it is true that when we have a visceral negative reaction to a pastor’s teaching, we need to pray and reflect on whether the teaching really disagrees with Scripture, or merely our culture. But still, I think, based on other sermons and commentaries I have read over the years, some of the implications for the role of women drawn from Paul’s writings are specific to the culture and circumstances of particular churches, and at some point, I am going to take him to task. But people are complex, and his teaching on other matters is spot-on. In a recent sermon discussing how Christians need to prioritize eternal life over this world, he said something that made me cheer. He had recently spoken to a prominent man in Washington who told him, “Everything that Christians do to put pressure to put their agenda through is counterproductive to the gospel because the people here see them as just another political pressure group with a temporal earthly agenda. They succumb to pressure because of money, but when the money and pressure run out, they revert to the way they used to be, only now they have a deep resentment for these people who pressured them to conduct themselves in a manner contrary to their own convictions.”

In 2005, Bart Ehrman, a former Evangelical who became an agnostic, wrote a book called Misquoting Jesus. The book argues that the Bible cannot be trusted because we do not have the original manuscript, and scribes tasked with copying the Bible before the printing press sometimes intentionally made additions or changes to the Bible. For the record, of the 400,000 variants in the Bible manuscripts, the vast majority are insignificant discrepancies in spelling, grammar, punctuation and word order that do not affect the meaning of the passages. Less than 1 percent—around 400 words—are actually significant. Scholars are transparent about these discrepancies in footnotes and even these variants do not change the overarching cohesiveness of the Bible. But Jesus had compassion for people with doubts, questions. What really angered Jesus were hypocrites, and those who caused his children to stumble (Matthew 18:6). Almost all of my posts here have incorporated Scripture that is misrepresented or ignored by Christian Nationalism, and while I don’t fear the upcoming election because God is in control, I think it is time to start an ongoing series which I am titling “Misrepresenting Jesus” in which I will focus on a particular passage of Scripture and try to remind us all, myself as much as anyone what Jesus was really trying to say, and how we must resist the loud voices of shepherds with evil intentions, and trust only in the words of the Good Shepherd.

That Reminds me of a Song: I realize this post was more of an update than a substantive reflection, but I thought you might enjoy a particularly soothing hymn played on Family Radio. I first heard This Is My Father’s World performed by Fernando Ortega, and it is beautiful in its own right. But I recently heard another version, performed by Michael O’Brien that is especially beautiful because he is accompanied by Timmy O’Brien—I bet that is his brother—and their lyrics, combined with the harmony thrills my heart. I hope you all enjoy the beauty of this song as well, and if I am not able to get another post together before Easter, I wish you a blessed Holy Week and Easter. Remember, He is risen, and because of this, we have nothing to fear from the political nonsense going on right now!

This is such a beautiful letter I had a difficult time selecting just one quote from it. I encourage you to read it in its entirety. This letter came to mind because I think that this editor’s explanation to Virginia O’Hanlon is similar to what God is trying to explain to us through the Scriptures, the key difference of course being that I believe Scripture’s literal promise of eternal life will come to fruition. God’s promises are no mere figment of human imagination, but in our day and age, when a scientific worldview is predominant in our culture, it is difficult for even the most committed Christians not to feel the influence of this skeptical age. Yet the Bible is clear that “faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” (Hebrews 11:1). In Mark 10:15, Jesus says, “I tell you the truth, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” In sermons I have heard on this passage over the years, the pastor explains that we must receive the kingdom of God with a spirit of humility. In Jesus’s day, children were not valued, and had very little social status in Roman society, and yet they approached Jesus with sincerity, whereas some people of high social status mistakenly thought their high position in this world would grant them entrance into God’s kingdom. But I also wonder if in this verse, Jesus is also trying to teach us that we must anticipate his kingdom with the same innocence, the same unvarnished joy as children anticipating the arrival of Santa Claus.

When Adam and Eve disobeyed God and ate from the forbidden tree allowing sin to enter the world, their sin separated them and us from God, and cursed all of creation. God longs to redeem us, and reverse the curse of sin, which is why he sent his son to atone for our sins, yet he revealed himself in such a way that no one would find him through intellect alone. “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise; the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate” (Isaiah 29:14, 1 Corinthians 1:19). Jesus also wasn’t fooled by the multitudes who followed him just to witness the miracles he was performing when their hearts were hard and he knew they had no interest in surrendering their lives to him. This is why he taught in parables, so that those sincerely seeking him would understand, but the eyes of those with hard hearts would be metaphorically blinded, unable to understand Christ’s message or receive the kingdom of God. Sadly, for all of our advances in scientific knowledge and technology, human nature hasn’t changed at all in two thousand years. Today, just as in Jesus’s day, there are people who refuse to accept Christ employing either scientific analysis to try and prove that God does not exist, or textual criticism to argue that the Bible is a “Big lie.” And even worse, there are grifters, people who pretend to believe, but exploit religion for purposes of wealth or political power. While I pray that God might soften the hearts of these people, I do not want to argue with these people today. There are apologists far more qualified than I am who argue the case far more eloquently than I could, and if they cannot change the hearts of these people—heck, if Jesus couldn’t change the hearts of many of the people in his day—I certainly won’t have any impact in this area. And no matter what I say, skeptics will cry that I am biased because I already presume God’s promises in the Bible are true. But in response, I ask, aren’t you also biased if you have already decided that God doesn’t exist? There is no such thing in this world as a completely impartial, unbiased person. We all have unique life experiences that inevitably shape our thoughts and attitudes.

I am not qualified to give an answer to every scientific objection or textual criticism. All I know is when I sing sacred texts with my choir, I often find the music is so beautiful I cry. When I sit on the porch swing in Spring and hear the majestic call of the sandhill crane, or hear black-capped chickadees literally sing in coordinated harmony, or when my parents and I go for a walk or drive slowly with the windows rolled down and a warm breeze carries the aroma of lilacs in bloom I am filled with a sense of awe and wonder words cannot explain. In these moments, as John Eldredge eloquently describes in his book All Things New: Heaven, Earth and the Restoration of Everything You Love, I find that my heart also whispers, “This is what we were meant for” (Page 38). But when I visited my grandma in a stinky nursing home and Mom helped her eat gross pureed food—and when she passed away the day after Christmas—when I am incapacitated for the day with a migraine, when people I love make me irrationally angry and I quarrel with them, when I watch the news full of stories of war, petty partisan politics and environmental devastation, I have a nagging sense that it wasn’t supposed to be this way. As Blaise Pascal rhetorically asked in 1670, “What else does this craving, and this helplessness proclaim but that there was once in man a true happiness, of which all that now remains is the empty print and trace?”

But while I consider myself a committed Christian, I must confess that sometimes, I can identify with Virginia. I want to believe, to trust fully in God’s promises, but it is so hard sometimes not to be discouraged by the skepticism of our secular society and its view that this life is all there is. And while I can only speak for myself, I have a feeling I am not alone here. But I am convinced that if we committed Christians had a more tangible understanding of what being a citizen of Heaven will mean, and if we truly believed, fully trusted in these promises, we would sin less, realizing how short-sighted, silly and ridiculous all of our sin, from misguided Christian Nationalism, to my impatience and self-centered idolatry of worldly comfort and independence really is compared to God’s incredible eternal promises.

So what will being a citizen of Heaven mean? If you remember nothing else from this post good Christian brothers and sisters, when Scripture speaks of eternal life, this does not mean some vague heaven where we sit on clouds and play harps. In fact, in his book Heaven, Randy Alcorn argues that this misconception is why even many committed Christians fear death. This kind of eternal life is boring, no life at all, and has no basis in Scripture. Randy Alcorn argues that the reason many Christians have this misconception about eternal life is because seminary schools where pastors are trained devote little if any attention to this subject, and the reason for this is because “Satan is determined to rob us of the joy we’d have if we believed what God tells us about the magnificent world to come” (Page 12). He does this by causing our weak minds to succumb to naturalism, the idea that what we cannot see isn’t real, or by convincing us that Heaven is a place of boring, unearthly existence so that we will focus on this life rather than the next, and be unmotivated to share our faith. “The blind must take by faith that there are stars in the sky. If they depend on their ability to see, they will conclude there are no stars” (Page 13). I take it by faith from my parents when they describe how beautiful the sky is some nights. And I also take it by faith that one day, I will get to see the sky for myself because Jesus spoke confidently of a coming renewal of all things (Matthew 19:28), and Peter, an original apostle who sat at Christ’s feet recognized that Jesus was the fulfillment of God’s promise to restore all things “as he promised long ago through his Holy prophets” (Acts 3:21). Isaiah 35:5-6 declares “Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then the lame will leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy. Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert.” Whenever I hear of oppression or injustice in the news, or even if I am just having a discouraging day at work, I rejoice in Isaiah 65:21-22 which promises that “They—the people of the new Jerusalem—will build houses and dwell in them; they will plant vineyards and eat their fruit. No longer will they build houses and others live in them, or plant and others eat. For as the days of a tree, so will be the days of my people; my chosen ones will long enjoy the works of their hands.” This passage suggests that all oppression will cease, and that we will be doing work familiar to us, but this work will be free from the curse of sin. I also like to think that given other passages that describe gladness and singing in the New Jerusalem, and the fact that the purpose for our work will be glorifying God rather than meeting company quotas, there will be plenty of time for singing, probably even the freedom to sing while I work. And as much as I enjoy sitting on the porch swing and listening for the sandhill cranes and black-capped chickadees, I know I will be thrilled on that day when I get to witness the wolf living with the lamb, the leopard lying down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling feeding together, and a little child leading them” (Isaiah 11:6). I wonder if at first, we will freak out if we see an infant playing near the hole of a cobra, or a young child putting his hand into a viper’s nest (Isaiah 11:8) but we will soon realize we have nothing to fear because “they will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea” (Isaiah 11:9). There are so many other beautiful passages I could reference, but I don’t want this post to turn into a novel. But you can bet I will be referencing more passages in the future whenever context allows.

Some of my inspiration for this post I owe to a couple years of joyful Saturday conversations with my friends who were Jehovah’s Witnesses. I wrote about them last summer, and while I did not convert because many of their beliefs are theologically inaccurate, their belief that one day those who accept Christ will live on a paradise earth is correct, and they were not afraid to talk about it in literal terms. One of my friends mentioned a woman in their congregation who is autistic and nonverbal, and she loves to imagine the day when this woman will be able to talk to her heart’s content, and I mentioned how I cannot wait for the day when I can run, both arms swinging at my side without needing a cane, dog or sighted person to keep me safe, and gaze at the sky for myself. Conversations like this were a much-needed well of hope and joy in a difficult season for me, and I believe this kind of talk was why my friends aren’t rattled by current events like the rest of us are. When I brought this up to a friend at our church, she expressed the fear that too much talk of eternal life would cause us to be so heavenly minded that we are of no earthly good. But Randy Alcorn points to C. S. Lewis who noted that history shows that Christians who contributed the most to the present world were those who thought most of the next. “We need a generation of heavenly minded people who see human beings and the earth itself not simply as they are, but as God intends them to be” (Page 21).

Imagine that you were a diehard Taylor Swift fan and you managed to score tickets to one of her concerts. (I am not a Taylor Swift fan for the record, just trying to use a culturally relevant analogy). You would be so excited for the upcoming show that you would be humming her songs as you went about your days, and it would be difficult to resist telling your friends, neighbors, coworkers, anyone who will listen how awesome she is. You might be so excited you don’t wait until concert night to wear your friendship bracelets. We should anticipate God’s promises regarding our eternal heavenly citizenship with an even greater degree of excitement. We should “talk about them when you sit at home, and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up” (Deuteronomy 6:7). And all this talk should have us so excited we cannot wait to give the world a little foretaste of God’s kingdom via our treatment of the poor, minorities and asylum-seekers via our unconditional love even toward those we disagree with, via our priorities when we vote here and now.

That Reminds me of a Song: While I was writing this, Brooks & Dunn’s song Believe, was playing in my head. The narrator of the song is a young man reflecting back on a couple summers he spent on the porch swing talking to an old man in his neighborhood. The old man had a lot of tragedy in his life, including the loss of his wife and child, but he knew he would see them in just a little while because he was confident in the “words written in red”, meaning the words Jesus spoke, which are written in red in the NIV bible. When the young man went off to college, and his mother called to tell him the old man died, the young man “didn’t know whether to cry or laugh” and this old man’s faith made such an impression on the young man that he too became convinced that it does not end with a slow ride in a hearse, that this world cannot be all there is. I don’t think this song would bring a tear to my eye if our God wasn’t real.

This may shock some of you, but I hate going on vacation. Packing, especially having to plan out every outfit, is a tedious pain in the neck in my opinion. Once we arrive at our vacation destination, it isn’t long before I am homesick: homesick for familiar surroundings where I can flit about confidently, rather than having to learn my way around cautiously like a fish out of water; homesick for the independence of preparing my food in a familiar kitchen complete with tactile dots on the microwave rather than having to depend on family for help; homesick for a good night’s sleep free from the snoring or coughing of other family members or loud refrigerator or air conditioner units; homesick for peace and quiet to recover from the wicked migraines I often wake up with due to the change in climate or aforementioned lack of sleep; homesick for just the ability to retreat to my bedroom sanctuary to write or enjoy a good book as opposed to organized—or disorganized—family activities. I have felt this way since my teenage years, when children naturally start craving independence, but my hatred of vacations intensified when I was diagnosed with Celiac Disease in 2012, requiring me to eat a strict, gluten free diet. Now in addition to being homesick for independence, each trip also riddled me with anxiety, as some places we visited had limited gluten free options. I understand that travel is necessary on occasion, as is going to the dentist, but while the rest of the family views the vacation as a treat to savor for as long as possible with late checkout if possible, scenic routes or side trips, I just wish this vacation would end already and we could just get home! But as my church is studying the book of Daniel, it is starting to occur to me that the reason I hate going on vacation is that vacations are God’s way of testing my character. When my life is just humming along independently at home, it is easy to fool myself into thinking I am a righteous person. But nothing exposes my ugly shortcomings, my pride, my self-centered attitude like a few days in unfamiliar surroundings where I have to depend on others to cook my oatmeal. And unlike Daniel, I usually fail these character tests. I am a little better than I used to be. I used to have full meltdowns into tears, especially if I was tired and hungry and we were having a difficult time finding gluten free options. These days, we have gotten better about researching and planning, so the Celiac anxiety is less now, but I don’t think I have yet gotten through a trip without lashing out at a family member over something, or fuming in the backseat because I was unsuccessful talking my parents out of a side trip that was delaying our arrival home by several hours. When we finally do get home and I have had a good night’s sleep, and a bowl of oatmeal cooked properly, I am crushed by a guilty conscience and apologize for being a jerk, but then the next trip comes and once again “what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing” (Romans 7:19).

At this point, I need to interrupt this blog for an example of comical/sad irony. The previous paragraph was written Saturday night, and I am coming back to write on Sunday night. I have to work starting at 2:00 most Sunday afternoons, but Mom and I still have plenty of time to go to the 10:45 church service and get home in time for a leisurely lunch. Usually, we come straight home, and are home by around 12:20, giving me time for a leisurely lunch plus about 40 minutes to read or listen to a podcast before work. But today, Mom was craving a fancy coffee from Panera Bread. I tried to convince her to take me home and go back for it because fancy coffees seem to take an eternity to prepare, but she chastised me, rightly in retrospect that this would be a silly waste of gas because Panera Bread was on the way home. So grudgingly, I waited in the car for what seemed like an eternity while she went in to get the coffee. I had just started to cool down when I noticed we had to stop for a train, and the train too seemed to take an eternity. If Mom didn’t insist on stopping for that stupid coffee, we wouldn’t be stuck behind this stupid train! When the train finally passed and we were moving, I just started to calm down when we had to stop for like three long red lights. To make a long story short, we finally made it home at 12:46. I had plenty of time to eat lunch, but didn’t really have spare time to do anything else before I had to start working, which made me mad. But then while listening to Christian hymns as I waited for phone calls, the comical irony hit me. I was angry, and acted out sinfully because I didn’t get home in time to get as much writing done as I had hoped, on the blog post lamenting my sin!

I have no desire for a political position, or even a position as the CEO of a large corporation. Sure, such a position would offer power, status and potentially a lot of money, but such positions also come with a lot of stress and responsibility that does not appeal to me as a highly sensitive person who almost lost her mind with anxiety in a previous paralegal position over relatively small mistakes. But as the “baby” of the family, as well as a person with a disability, I sometimes lust after a different kind of power, a power motivated by envy of my siblings and peers who live independently. But due to various circumstances, I still live with my parents. I know I should be content, especially because my parents have given me the best of everything. They respect my privacy, and only ask me to pay for my medical insurance costs—which don’t come out to very much—so I don’t have to struggle, living paycheck to paycheck like many of my peers. I also recognize that if I lived on my own, I would have to work full-time to afford rent, and would be solely responsible for housekeeping, grocery shopping and cooking, likely leaving little time to pursue the mission of this blog. And during the pandemic, I came to a deeper appreciation for the companionship of my parents which still endures today. Most of the day, we are three adults doing our own things, but we always manage to sit around the table together for one or two meals each day, and although this may seem like a small thing, as I watched friends who live alone spiral into depression and anxiety, I came to appreciate what a blessing companionship is. And yet when my siblings come home, like the older son in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, I sometimes resent how excited my parents get, how they roll out the red carpet for them, staying up late into the night to catch up with them, buying special food. And while I am sure this is not my siblings’ intention, and I am probably reading things into innocent statements that are unfair, sometimes my siblings say things that convince me they don’t see me as an autonomous adult, and sometimes my anger about this is so intense, I retreat to my room and wonder if this needs to be the year I throw caution to the wind and get a place of my own. Maybe then, I will finally be recognized as an adult. As an added bonus, depending on how far away I move from my parents, I could make my own travel arrangements for family vacations. I hate the fact that I have these thoughts, but it is as if the person I want to be has been hijacked.

And worst of all, I am so full of pride that I never pray to God to help me overcome these sins, which is probably why I usually fail. “I just need to try harder,” I tell myself, forgetting that “our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Ephesians 6:12). On our own, none of us stands a chance against these forces. Thank you Lord for inspiring me to write this post, and thank you for giving me the ability and the opportunity to speak out against Christian Nationalism. But I pray that in this endeavor, you will keep me humble, reveal my own shortcomings, make sure I never forget that even if Christian Nationalism can be eradicated, there will still be a lot wrong with this world until Christ returns because of impatient, self-centered, ungrateful, prideful sinners like me.

That Reminds me of a Song: I have been listening to a lot of music from Bill and Gloria Gaither and the Gaither Vocal Band this month. My maternal grandma (Granny) passed away the day after Christmas, and she loved the Gaithers. She bought VHS tapes of their concerts, and introduced me to them in high school when I made the personal decision to commit my life to Christ. We enjoyed listening to Gaither videos together when I came to visit, so this music reminds me of her. And as I was writing this, Recovering Pharisee was playing in my mind. I love southern gospel songs like this, complete with banjo and fiddle, for their power to convey profound truths in a winsome, memorable way, and this song echoes the sentiment of this post brilliantly. I too am a recovering pharisee.