If you've spent any time around American Christianity in recent years, you've probably felt the tension.

On one hand, we read about Jesus—the one who blessed the poor, loved his enemies, welcomed outsiders, and refused to seize political power. On the other hand, we see forms of Christianity that seem obsessed with influence, domination, and cultural control. Many people, both inside and outside the church, look at this disconnect and ask a simple question: How did we get here?

Recently, I had a conversation with biblical scholar Ron Herms about apocalyptic literature, empire, Christian nationalism, and the church's relationship to power. One of the most important insights from our discussion was that the Bible gives us answers and clues to these subjects.

The biblical writers understood empire as more than a political system. Empire was the relentless expansion of power—the desire to control, dominate, and impose one's vision on others. Ancient Israel lived under the shadow of Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, Persia, Greece, and Rome. The prophets and apocalyptic writers recognized that these empires often justified themselves with stories, myths, and promises that sounded noble while masking deeper realities.

That is where apocalyptic literature enters the picture.

The word apocalypse does not mean "the end of the world." It means an unveiling. A revealing. Pulling back the curtain to expose what is really happening beneath the surface. Books like Daniel and Revelation were written as resistance literature for communities trying to remain faithful while living under the pressures of empire.

What struck me most was that the biblical response to empire is rarely about seizing power. Instead, apocalyptic writers redefine what faithfulness, victory, and leadership look like.
Victory is not domination. It is faithful witness. Leadership is not control. It is service.

This is where the teachings of Jesus become so important. The Sermon on the Mount does not provide a strategy for conquering enemies. It calls us to love them. The cross is not a symbol of worldly success. It is the ultimate act of self-giving love. That raises an uncomfortable question for many of us: What happens when the church begins to mirror the very systems of power that Jesus challenged?

Throughout American history there have been Christians who modeled another way. The Black church, leaders in the Civil Rights Movement, and many voices from liberation traditions demonstrated that it is possible to resist injustice without embracing violence. They exposed evil, confronted systems of oppression, and remained committed to the way of Jesus.
Perhaps the church's task today is not to gain more power but to recover a different imagination. An apocalyptic imagination.

One that pulls back the curtain on the idols of our age. One that refuses to confuse political influence with faithfulness. One that remembers that the kingdom of God advances not through domination but through love, sacrifice, truth, and hope. In a culture obsessed with winning, Jesus invites us to a different kind of victory.

The issue of doubt shouldn’t be something to avoid; in fact, it should be something we embrace. Think about it, how do we know…anything? A branch of philosophy that is concerned with the nature and limits of knowledge is epistemology. Often referred to as the theory of knowledge, it investigates what distinguishes justified belief from mere opinion and explores how we acquire and validate the things we claim to know.

The concept of truth is fundamental because it reflects statements, beliefs, or propositions that accurately align with objective reality, empirical facts, or what genuinely exists. In today’s culture, truth is a debated concept that ends up being reduced to your opinion of it and mine, and both can exist at the same time. The idea of an objective truth, some say, is something that is reserved for religious people.

So, what is truth? This is a question that has been debated for centuries.

Here are a few famous quotes:

• Aristotle: truth means ‘to say of what is that it is, and of what is not that is not.'
• William James: ‘truth happens to an idea.’ In other words, if an idea is practically useful and beneficial for human action, it is functionally true. 
• Nietzsche: argued that there is no objective, universal truth. Truth is simply the will to power.

It becomes apparent that our culture has adopted many forms of truth. In a postmodern, post-Christian society, truth is whatever works for you. Objective truth is seen as limiting freedom.

Famously, in the New Testament, in John 18:38, Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor in Judea, who was in conversation with Jesus during his arrest, asked, ‘What is truth?’ Responding to Jesus declaring what he had come to do: ‘testify to the truth.’

Today, the question remains: What is truth? Perhaps you are pondering that now. What is your answer?

I have learned that many people are curious about truth, and yet doubts are always close by. At All Saints, we encourage this wrestling. We say we are a community for all who believe, doubt, and seek. Doubt is part of belief and Jesus understands that.

There is a story in the book of Mark where a desperate Dad asks Jesus to help his very sick son. Jesus says, ‘anything is possible for those who believe….in the truth (emphasis mine),’ you would think the man or any parent for that matter would be saying, ‘Yes, I believe. Just help my child.’ But this parent responds in the most honest way possible, ‘I want to believe, help me with my unbelief.’ This response emphasizes that faith, truth, and doubt can coexist. Jesus chose to heal the boy, perhaps recognizing genuine honesty in the man’s response.

It is this kind of sincerity within ourselves that guides us toward the truth. Goethe said,
‘If we do not have the doubts, where then would be joyful certainty?’

What are your doubts? Take these questions and spend some time with them.

1. Which specific part of your faith are you wrestling with right now? (e.g., God's love, the reliability of scripture, or the problem of suffering)
2. Are you struggling with the faith itself, or are you struggling with the actions of people/institutions in the faith?
3. Do you believe it is possible for faith and doubt to exist at the same time?
4. What is one thing about your faith that is still encouraging to you, even in a small way?

I am convinced God isn’t put off by our doubts and questions. The journey isn’t about reaching certainty or perfection. It’s about walking with Christ and learning his rhythms of love and joy in your life. My favorite verse in the Bible is found in Jude 1:22, ‘Have mercy on those who doubt.’
 
Maybe the opposite of faith isn't doubt. Maybe the opposite of faith is pretending. Pretending we have all the answers. Pretending our questions don't exist. Pretending certainty is the same thing as trust. The people Jesus seemed most patient with were the doubters and the seekers; the skeptics and the honest. Faith is not the absence of uncertainty—it is the decision to keep moving toward truth even when the path is unclear. So bring your questions. Bring your disappointments. Bring your doubts. God is not threatened by them. In fact, they may be the very place where a deeper and more authentic faith begins.

Listen to episode 197 of the All Saints Podcast: The Problem Isn't Doubt. It's Certainty.

It feels almost impossible to escape politics right now.

Whether it's social media, cable news, podcasts, family gatherings, or conversations after church, politics has become one of the dominant forces shaping how people see the world—and increasingly, how they see one another.

I've noticed something happening among Christians in particular. Conversations about faith often become conversations about politics. Questions about discipleship quickly turn into questions about parties, candidates, policies, and culture wars. For many people, political identity has become so intertwined with spiritual identity that it's difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins. I've also noticed the exhaustion.

Some followers of Jesus feel pressured to publicly comment on every issue. Others feel silenced because they don't fully align with their side's expectations. Many feel caught in the middle—unable to embrace the certainty of either side yet unwilling to disengage altogether.

Political ads have replaced regular commercials (I miss knowing what's happening at Burger King, Did I get wind of something to do with the Mandalorian and Grogu?).

As a follower of Jesus, I'm keenly aware of the ongoing conversation among people of faith. To be honest, the rhetoric and tone aren't any different from what's seen in other media outlets, social media platforms, and coffee shop debates. I ponder this often. Sometimes I feel angry and embarrassed by what I hear from people in my faith community. Other times, I feel the need to speak up, despite the risks involved.

Recently, I came across an older article by the late Tim Keller published in the New York Times that raised an important question: Is withdrawing from political engagement actually a political act in itself?

‘Those who avoid all political discussions and engagement are essentially casting a vote for the social status quo. American churches in the early 19th century that did not speak out against slavery because that was what we would now call ‘getting political’ were actually supporting slavery by doing so. To not be political is to be political … Nevertheless, while believers can register under a party affiliation and be active in politics, they should not identify the Christian church or faith with a political party as the only Christian one.’ – Timothy Keller

I believe Keller presents a compelling argument for why Christians should refrain from conflating their faith with their political affiliations. His first point highlights the potential danger of misrepresenting Christianity to those who are exploring the faith. By linking Christianity with a specific political party, there's a risk of creating the misconception that complete agreement with the party's platform is a requirement for following Jesus. Keller's second point delves into the complexity of political issues, emphasizing that many of them lack clear guidance in the Bible. This opens the door for sincere and faithful Christians to hold differing views on how to approach these matters, without compromising their faith. Yet I think we face a different danger.

The greatest threat may not be political involvement itself. The greatest threat may be confusing allegiance to Christ with allegiance to a political movement. When Christianity becomes attached to a party, ideology, nation, or candidate, the gospel inevitably becomes smaller than it was intended to be. We begin filtering Jesus through politics instead of filtering politics through Jesus. And that's where things become dangerous.

Jesus consistently refuses the categories that people try to place upon him. He is too compassionate for some and too demanding for others. Too concerned with justice for some and too concerned with personal transformation for others. He challenges every ideology because his kingdom transcends them all.

In our current political climate, many Christians feel pressure to choose between partisan loyalty and faithfulness to Jesus. But perhaps that is a false choice. The church is called to be politically engaged without being politically captured.

We should care about justice, poverty, immigration, racial reconciliation, religious liberty, peacemaking, and human flourishing. These are not partisan issues; they are deeply human issues that matter to God. At the same time, we should be wary whenever a political movement demands the kind of loyalty, trust, hope, or devotion that belongs to Christ alone.

No political party can save us. No election can usher in the Kingdom of God. No candidate can heal what is ultimately broken in the human heart. That doesn't mean politics are unimportant. It means politics are not ultimate.

The early Christians lived under Rome, one of the most powerful political systems in history. Yet their hope was not in Caesar. Their confidence was not in political victory. Their witness came through communities marked by love, generosity, service, reconciliation, and allegiance to another King.
 
Perhaps that's what we need most today. Not less engagement, but deeper discernment. Not withdrawal, but wisdom. Not partisan certainty, but Christ-centered faithfulness. The question isn't whether Christians should care about politics. The question is whether our political commitments are being shaped by Jesus—or whether Jesus is being reshaped by our political commitments.

Question: How are you navigating the tension between faith and politics in this cultural moment?

For more on this topic, listen to Episode 196 of All Saints Podcast: "Stop Asking Jesus to Pick Your Side"

How should Christians think about nationalism, immigration, and power?

Christians face a profound tension: we are citizens of earthly nations, yet our ultimate allegiance lies with the kingdom of God. The real danger emerges when political identity, nationalism, fear, or power overshadow Jesus as our true source of hope. It's striking how many Christians prefer quoting Paul over Jesus; however, it is Jesus’ words that should guide our lives. Jesus addressed concerns related to others, as seen in the Sermon on the Mount. This is the vital area where the line between the Cross and Empire becomes blurred.

Jesus refused a political position.

John 18:36 - “My kingdom is not of this world.” Jesus was clear that his purpose on earth was not to overthrow governments. Yet, the crowds desired a revolution—a figure of power, dominance, and a warrior king. Instead, Jesus entered Jerusalem humbly on a donkey, defying both an oppressive empire and fierce nationalist sentiments. He did not conform to any political label. In modern culture, there is immense pressure on Christians to align strictly with ideological camps—whether left or right, progressive or nationalist, activist or isolationist, liberal or conservative. Yet, Jesus consistently challenges every tribe and ideology, inviting a deeper reflection beyond simple labels.

Christ followers are told to love the other.

Ephesians 2:19 “You are no longer foreigners and strangers…” Throughout Scripture, Israel is reminded that they were once foreigners in Egypt. God consistently urges care for strangers, refugees, and outsiders. While legitimate concerns about borders and social stability are understandable, many Christians have permitted fear to overshadow the inherent dignity of all people. Recognizing this biblical call challenges us to prioritize compassion over apprehension.

Here’s the tension–

As followers of Christ, we must unite our response around essential principles: compassion paired with wisdom, justice alongside mercy, truth complemented by love, and strength balanced with humility. The Christian church has a duty to stand against both the dehumanization of immigrants and naive idealism that overlooks complex realities. While these challenges are not simple to solve, our response must emulate the example set by Jesus. Consider his encounter with the woman caught in adultery in John 8:1-11 as a powerful model for compassionate care and mercy.

Christ followers must understand Power.

Jesus demonstrates how vigilant we must be against unchecked political power. In Luke 4:5-6, Satan tempts Jesus by claiming dominion over all the worldly kingdoms. Revelation 13 further uses vivid symbolism to portray worldly political systems that abuse their authority. Why should Christians heed this warning? Because power often corrupts, fosters fear, demands loyalty, sows division, and turns people into enemies. Does any of this sound familiar? When Christians pursue dominance rather than sacrificial witness, they cease to resemble Jesus. Jesus transformed the world—not through force or political influence, but through sacrifice, love, truth, humility, and unwavering faith.

Christ followers are called to be peacemakers.

Matthew 5:9-16 “Blessed are the peacemakers…salt of the earth” ... Peacemaking is not an act of passivity but a bold, courageous stance in divided spaces. Christians must be distinguished by their refusal to sow hatred, their resistance to propaganda through truth-telling, and their commitment to preserving human dignity and loving enemies. While no nation is the kingdom of God, they should also not claim to be its protector or promoter. The early Christians, living under far more violent empires than many modern democracies, changed the world without confusing Caesar with Christ. When the church becomes enslaved to political power, it loses its prophetic voice. A crucial question arises: “Can Christians love their nation without worshipping it?” Once political loyalty becomes ultimate, Jesus inevitably takes a back seat.

Learn more about what it means to examine ourselves and cultivate "the fruit of the Spirit" in Episode 195 of the All Saints Podcast: "Jesus Didn't Come to Earth to Make People Religious."


If you're interested in diving deeper into this topic, these are some books that I recommend...  

Separation of Church and Hate by, John Fugelsang
Fugelsang critiques the alliance between American Christianity and right-wing political power, arguing that many public expressions of modern Christianity contradict the teachings of Jesus. Through humor, cultural commentary, and biblical references, he contrasts the compassion-centered ethic of Christ with fear-based nationalism, exclusion, and culture-war politics. The book calls readers to recover a faith rooted in mercy, humility, justice, and love rather than ideology and tribalism.

The Violent Take it by Force – Matthew Taylor
This book explores the growing influence of charismatic Christian nationalism and prophetic movements within American evangelicalism, especially those connected to politics, conspiracy culture, and spiritual warfare rhetoric. Taylor traces how segments of independent charismatic Christianity became deeply intertwined with populism, January 6, and apocalyptic political imagination. He argues that these movements are reshaping American religion and democracy by framing political conflict as a cosmic battle between God and evil.

The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory – Tim Alberta
Part memoir, part investigative journalism, this book examines how white evangelicalism in America became increasingly fused with political identity, especially during the Trump era. Alberta writes both as an outsider journalist and as someone raised within evangelical culture, giving the book a deeply personal tone as he documents churches fractured by fear, anger, and partisan loyalty. He argues that many Christian communities traded spiritual integrity for political power, creating a crisis of witness that now threatens the future credibility of the American church.

"I doubt that hell is real. Is it just some construct created to scare people into good behavior and convert them to Christianity? I believe in heaven and hope for it, but just can't muster the same belief (or fear) of hell." - Anonymous

We recently launched The Doubter's Mailbox on our website and in the All Saints App, where anyone can anonymously submit doubts like the one above, that hinder their faith or ability to believe.

Few ideas provoke more fear, skepticism, or confusion than the idea of hell.

For some, hell represents everything they struggle with in Christianity: “How could a loving God send people to eternal punishment?” Others wonder whether hell is even real at all—or whether ancient images of fire and torment were symbolic ways of describing something deeper.

The truth is, throughout Christian history there has never been just one view of hell. Thoughtful Christians, theologians, and philosophers have wrestled with these questions for centuries, all attempting to hold together two convictions:

• God is just.
• God is merciful.

The tension between those two ideas shapes every theological view of hell.

The traditional view, held by much of historic Christianity, teaches that hell is an eternal state of conscious separation from God. In this understanding, human freedom matters deeply. God does not force people into relationship with Him; hell becomes the tragic outcome of rejecting the source of life itself. Supporters of this view argue that evil and injustice must ultimately be answered with judgment.

Others hold to what is called annihilationism or conditional immortality. This perspective teaches that those who reject God are not eternally tormented, but ultimately cease to exist. Judgment is real, but suffering is not endless. Many see this as a way of taking both justice and mercy seriously.

A third perspective, universal reconciliation, argues that God’s love ultimately restores all people. Hell may exist, but not as eternal punishment. Instead, it is understood as a refining or purifying process that eventually leads to healing and reconciliation. Critics question whether this diminishes human freedom or the seriousness of evil, while supporters believe God’s mercy ultimately triumphs over all rebellion.

Still others see hell less as a physical place and more as existential separation from God—a condition of isolation, emptiness, and self-chosen distance from divine life and love.
What becomes clear is that the real debate is not simply whether hell exists, but what judgment means, what God’s justice looks like, and how mercy operates in the face of evil.

At the center of this conversation is a deeper human question: Can love exist without freedom? And if freedom is real, what happens when people reject goodness, truth, and God Himself?

These are not abstract theological puzzles alone. They touch our fears, our hopes, and our understanding of who God is.

Perhaps the deeper question is not merely, “Is there a hell?” But: “What kind of God do we believe stands behind judgment?”

And maybe even more personally: Would we want a universe where evil, cruelty, abuse, and injustice are never ultimately confronted at all?

If you'd like to discuss this topic more in depth, feel free to join me in the Theology Q&A discussion group in the All Saints Community app. Don't have the app yet, download it here. 

We live in a world that is loud, hurried, and opinionated. Voices compete for our attention—on screens, in conversations, and even in our own heads. Yet the Bible consistently calls us to a countercultural posture: the sacred art of listening. Listening is not passive; it is an intentional act that shapes our wisdom, relationships, and faith. It is paramount in obtaining the guidance we need for wise decision making.

Here are five ways the Scripture highlights why listening matters so deeply:

1. Listening leads to wisdom. Proverbs 1:5 tells us, “Let the wise listen and add to their learning, and let the discerning get guidance.” The path to wisdom begins not with speaking, but with listening—listening to God, to mentors, and to those whose life experiences can guide us. When we pause to truly hear, we position ourselves to gain understanding.
2. Listening deepens our relationship with God. Jesus said in John 10:27, “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” The Christian life is built on recognizing and responding to the voice of the Shepherd. Listening to God through prayer, Scripture, and the prompting of the Spirit is essential for knowing His will and walking closely with Him.
3. Listening honors others. James 1:19 urges us: “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” Listening is an act of love. It shows others that their stories, struggles, and perspectives matter. In a divided world, few things are as powerful—or as healing—as offering someone your full attention.
4. Listening helps us avoid foolishness. Proverbs 18:13 cautions, “To answer before listening—that is folly and shame.” How often do misunderstandings and conflicts arise because we speak before we’ve truly heard? Careful listening prevents hasty words, fosters wise decision-making, and protects us from unnecessary strife.
5. Listening fuels growth and faith. Romans 10:17 reminds us, “Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.” Our spiritual growth is rooted in listening—listening to God’s Word preached, taught, and shared in community. Every time we hear and receive truth, our faith deepens and matures.

And finally, listening as peacemaking. 

At its heart, listening is about more than acquiring wisdom or avoiding conflict. It is about becoming people of peace. In our fractured society, listening creates space for reconciliation and understanding. As followers of Jesus, we are called to listen not only to God but also to one another—even, and perhaps especially, to those who see the world differently than we do.

Listening is both our joy and our responsibility. When we listen, we imitate Christ, who leaned in to hear the cries of the broken, the questions of the curious, and the prayers of the desperate.

So this week, slow down. Put away distractions. Be quick to listen. You may just find that in listening—really listening—you encounter not only others but also the voice of God Himself.

We’ve been taught to fear anger. Some of us were raised to suppress it—told that good people don’t get angry. Others were taught to express it freely—to vent, to react to “keep it real.” But both approaches miss something deeper, something more unsettling: Anger isn’t the opposite of love. Indifference is.

If you never get angry, it may not be because you’re peaceful—it may be because you’ve
stopped caring.

At its core, anger is not a defect in your humanity. It’s a signal. Anger is what happens when
something you love is threatened. Think about it, we get angry when someone we love is
mistreated. We get angry when injustice prevails.

The real question isn’t “Why am I angry?” It’s “What am I defending?” If we follow our anger
far enough, it will always lead us to our sacred loves. Our deepest attachments. Our most
guarded values. And sometimes—that’s where things get uncomfortable. Because not
everything we defend is worth defending.

Anger can expose beauty—but it can also expose distortion. We may think we’re defending
truth…But we’re defending ego. We may believe we’re standing for justice, but we’re most
likely protecting an image. This is why anger is so powerful—and so dangerous. It reveals what we love. But it doesn’t guarantee that what we love is rightly ordered.

This is where following Christ cuts against both modern instincts. On one side, our culture
often celebrates anger: “Speak your truth,” “Let it out,” “Don’t hold it in. On the other side,
more traditional cultures suppress it: “Stay composed,” “Don’t make a scene, ” “Anger is
weakness.” But Scripture refuses both extremes. It doesn’t say: “Express all anger,” and it
doesn’t say: “Eliminate all anger” It says something far more demanding: “Be angry—but do not sin.”

In other words: Don’t suppress it. Don’t unleash it. Transform it!

Jesus is perfect love, real anger. If we want to understand anger rightly, look at Jesus.
He is described as perfect—yet He gets angry. He overturns tables in the temple when worship is corrupted (John 2), He confronts religious leaders when they weaponize truth (Mark 3), He stands at Lazarus’ tomb and burns with anger at death itself (John 11), Why? Because He loves perfectly. His anger is never about protecting himself. It is always about
restoring others. That’s the difference.

So here’s the paradox: Anger is both a sign of love and a source of destruction. Therefore, it
can reveal what matters most and/or ruin what matters most. That’s why wisdom doesn’t
eliminate anger—it slows it down. Because when anger is rushed, it becomes reactive.

When anger is slowed, it becomes discerning.

Finally, instead of asking: “Is anger good or bad?” Ask this: “Is my anger aligned with love—or
distorted by self?” Because anger is never neutral. It is always moving in one of two directions: Toward restoration or toward destruction.

The goal is not to become a person without anger. The goal is to become a person whose anger has been healed, examined, and rightly ordered by love. Because in the end, the most dangerous person is not the angry one… It’s the one who no longer cares at all.

For more on this topic and a deeper look into how the Bible looks at anger, listen to All Saints Podcast episode 192 – "What Do I Do With Anger?"

The following is a transcript from an episode of the All Saints Podcast, titled "Is Doubt Ok?" You can listen to the full episode here.

Introduction: Finding Stability in Skepticism
Hello, and welcome to All Saints. We are looking today at the book of John, chapter 20, specifically the resurrection story of Jesus. I think the thing that's really important here is how doubt lived in the minds of those wondering what was going on.

The disciples had just been with Jesus; he had been crucified, and they were hiding. Then there is Mary, who sees Jesus after his resurrection, and all of her doubts are scattered. In an age of skepticism and the questioning of what is true, we need something we can rely on for stability and security.

“Belief is everything. Jesus had made belief and doubt matters of philosophical and religious importance by challenging people to believe by fiat, to have faith.” — Jennifer Hecht, Doubt

Is it intellectual suicide to believe purely on divine authority? Or is that the very essence of faith in God? I want to propose that doubt can serve us well, or it can paralyze us. As we mature, we can lean into our doubts as part of our faith journey and deal with them confidently.

Unmasking the "Faith System" of Doubt
Behind every doorway of understanding lies a common element: doubt and belief. As a Christ-follower, there is a constant tension. There are periods when you are full of joy, hope, and confidence—then the storms happen. You begin to lose hope. You begin to doubt. But we have to understand that every doubt is actually a faith system. It’s not "supernaturalism versus naturalism"; it’s faith versus faith, belief versus belief. Everyone, whether you believe in God or not, is a person of faith. Don't just take your doubts at face value. Unmask them.

What is the Compass of Your Soul?
Richard Dawkins once said that everyone is living their life on some sort of assumption about an ultimate reality. Is God there or not? What is He like? Does He care how I live? The answers to those questions reveal that faith is not some abstract thing—it is the compass of our soul.
We base our decisions—how we spend money, who we marry, our morality—on what our faith system says. Ultimately, it doesn't matter how strong or weak your faith is; what matters is what you are putting your faith in.
If you’re going into surgery, you can research the doctor all you want, but eventually, you go under anesthesia and your life is in their hands. It doesn't matter if you are bold or timid in that moment; it matters if the surgeon is capable. Where have you placed your trust?

The Lord of the Tomb
In John 20:13, Mary’s reaction to the empty tomb is: "They have taken my Lord." Not my teacher, not my friend—my Lord.
Mary had bet her life on him. When she got to the tomb and he was gone, the bottom fell out. We all have a "Lord." We all have something we believe will give us ultimate hope and peace—be it money, a job, family, or grades. But I’ll say this: the weakest faith in Jesus will be far more liberating than the strongest faith in anything else.
Doubling Down: Doubting Your Doubts
In Matthew 14, Peter jumps out of a boat to walk on water. When the storm comes, he begins to sink. Jesus asks him, "Why did you doubt?" For Peter, the reality of the storm was greater than the reality of who Jesus is. When we go through storms—money issues, health issues, relationship struggles—we need to doubt our doubts. Is Jesus the one we can rely on? Is He true to His word?

Faith is not primarily a function of how you feel. Faith is living out and believing what the truth is despite how you feel.

Moving from the Head to the Heart
You can believe in the death and resurrection of Jesus intellectually and still not be a Christ-follower. If it hasn't gone from the head to the heart, you will give up when the storms come because the love of Jesus won't feel real.
If Jesus went to the horror of the cross for you, don't you think you can trust Him with your money, your kids, and your future?
Perhaps the fundamental reason we struggle with doubt is that the Gospel is simply too good to be true. The world tells us that Snow White never wakes up and the prince remains a frog. But when Jesus says, "Mary," the hope of the world becomes true.
Closing: Seek and You Shall Find
Don't just stay in your doubts. Don't leave them as intellectual questions. Act on them. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened.

Prayer: Jesus, thank you for being a reality we can hold on to. I pray for everyone listening, that this would be an awakening in their soul, mind, and heart. In Jesus' name, Amen.

The book of Proverbs gives us a powerful insight: The human spirit can endure in sickness, but a crushed spirit who can bear? – Provervs 18:14

A strong body can still feel empty inside. But if the inner life is strong, we can endure almost anything. Our culture tells us happiness comes from the outside:

• Health
• Money
• Success
• Approval

But Scripture flips that entirely. Our life is not shaped primarily by our circumstances—
but by our inner condition. 

A crushed spirit isn’t simple. It’s layered.

• Physical - Your body and mind are connected. Lack of sleep, poor health, or chemical imbalance can affect your emotions.
• Emotional/Relational - Sometimes you don’t need answers—you need presence. Love. Kindness. Someone who stays.
• Moral - Guilt distorts how you see yourself. It doesn’t just say “I did something wrong.”
• It says, “Something is wrong with me.” God doesn’t guilt us; He will convict us. Conviction is a reminder to our conscience that causes us to pause and question an action or motive.
• Existential - You can laugh and still feel empty. Deep down, we all sense that even our best moments don’t last.
• Spiritual (Core Commitments) - Your heart is shaped by what you place your hope in. When that hope fails—your spirit collapses.

There’s a hard truth we don’t like to admit: No one fully understands you. No one can walk with you through every thought, every fear, every moment. And that realization can feel crushing. But it also points to something deeper: You were never meant to carry your inner life alone.

We long for something we’ve never fully experienced. We chase it in relationships, success, experiences…but nothing quite delivers. Eventually, one of three things happens:

• We keep chasing (“Maybe the next thing will work”)
• We blame ourselves (“Something must be wrong with me”)
• We grow cynical (“This is as good as it gets”)

All three lead to the same place: a crushed spirit.

The Scripture gives a surprising answer. ‘Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.’ – Proverbs 13:12

Healing doesn’t come from reducing your struggle to one category. You are not just:

• a physical problem
• an emotional problem
• a moral problem

You are a whole person. And real healing happens when your deepest hope is restored.
Not in circumstances. Not in people. But in a relationship with the One who fully knows you—and doesn’t turn away. If a crushed spirit is multi-layered, then healing must be intentional.

Here are five grounded ways to begin:

1. Take inventory of your inner world. Ask yourself honestly: Where am I most depleted—physically, emotionally, morally, or spiritually?
2. Care for your body like it matters (because it does). Sleep. Nutrition. Movement. Ignoring your physical state will quietly erode your inner strength.
3. Let someone in—even partially. You don’t need to be fully understood to be supported. Don’t isolate.
4. Address guilt truthfully. Don’t ignore it—and don’t let it define you. Bring it into the light rather than letting it distort your identity.
5. Re-anchor your hope daily. What you place your ultimate hope in will either stabilize you—or crush you. Return, again and again, to the truth that you are fully known and fully loved in Christ.

Are you investing more in your external life—or your inner one? Because in the end, your inner life is what determines the Fruit of the Spirit being present and practiced in your life.

For more on this topic, listen or watch "Inner Peace in an Unhinged World"

We are living in a moment where volume often matters more than truth.
Confidence is mistaken for competence. Outrage is confused with insight.
And the loudest voice in the room often wins—even when it’s wrong.
Scroll your feed for five minutes and you’ll see it: Opinions masquerading as facts. Emotion replacing evidence. Certainty without depth. And right now, that confusion isn’t just theoretical—it’s shaping the world we live in.

The ongoing conflict in the Middle East has triggered one of the largest global energy shocks in decades, disrupting economies, driving inflation, and creating instability across nations.

At the same time, AI-generated misinformation is flooding social media—fake war footage, manipulated images, and viral falsehoods spreading faster than truth can catch up. In one recent case, even political leaders were misled by an AI-generated image during a breaking news moment.

Let that sink in.

We are not just living in an age of information. We are living in an age where reality itself feels unstable. And if we’re honest—it’s not just “out there.” It’s in here too. We’ve all had moments where we chose what was easy over what was true. Where we resisted correction. Where we preferred being affirmed over being formed. Foolishness isn’t just a cultural problem—it’s a human one.

Our modern world has removed the friction that used to slow foolishness down.

You no longer have to study deeply to speak loudly.
You don’t have to understand something to comment on it.
You don’t even have to verify something to share it.
And the result? A culture where: speed outruns truth, emotion outruns reflection, and confidence outruns competence

But reality doesn’t bend to our noise.
You can believe something sincerely and still be wrong.
You can feel something deeply and still be deceived.
You can follow what’s popular and still be headed toward destruction.

Are we stuck in the noise, or is there a better way? To dive deeper into what scripture says about modern folly, listen to 'The Algorithm of a Fool' (Episode 190) on the All Saints Podcast."

Palm Sunday is a pivotal day for Christians around the world. It marks the start of Holy Week. In John 12:12-19, we read the account where Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a donkey. The people are singing, ‘Hosanna’, waving palm branches and excited to receive Jesus into the city. In Zechariah 9:9 (‘…your king is coming, seated on a donkey’s colt’), is the prophecy being fulfilled when the Messiah triumphantly enters the city. What is interesting to realize is that  
the people wanted an insurrectionist to topple Rome. Jesus did come to defeat an enemy, but not the one they had in mind. Instead, He came to defeat the enemies of sin, death, and evil.

Jesus did not enter the city to lead a revolt. He did not gather an army. He did not challenge Rome with force. His mission was deeper and broader than the crowd could have imagined. His kingship was not rooted in political dominance; it was rooted in spiritual redemption. I believe our focus as Christ followers should be on the significance of this day. Too many ‘Christians’ seek political dominance rather than humble service, a culture of morality and law rather than a culture of acceptance and peace. Palm Sunday highlights this contrast clearly. The cheers of celebration would later shift into cries of rejection within the same week. The same city that welcomed Him would soon turn against Him. The shift exposes how easily expectations can shape perception. It rings true for us today.

Why Palm Sunday Matters Today

I like this quote from Adrianna Silva: ‘Palm Sunday invites reflection on what kind of king we are looking for. It challenges assumptions about how deliverance should appear. It reminds us that God’s methods may not align with our immediate preferences.’ She makes a powerful point here. We are witnessing a reaction to the kind of King we are seeking with these massive ‘No Kings’ protests. Are we in the same predicament as these 1st Century crowds were seeking? In some ways, yes. They wanted to overthrow an oppressive government that was causing political instability, ruled by emperors who wielded varying degrees of tolerance and brutality. There was social unrest; the population was divided into different groups, leading to riots and rebellions. And religious conflict, with the Roman state’s strict adherence to the imperial cult and its intolerance towards Jewish monotheism.

The parallels are striking. It would seem that the Christian Church in America has an opportunity. We can foster an environment for the arrival of the true King of Kings by living as the people of Jesus and manifesting our faith. Alternatively, like the people in the 1st century, we might cheer for Jesus until he does not act according to our wishes. The movement of the Christian faith does not require a political figure or government to pave the way for the coming King.
 
Finally, Palm Sunday sets the stage for the rest of Holy Week. Without Palm Sunday, the movement toward Good Friday and Easter would lack context. It marks the public acknowledgement of Jesus’ identity before the unfolding of sacrifice and resurrection. It is both a celebration and a foreshadowing.
 
A Palm Sunday Prayer
King Jesus, We welcome you as you are—not the king we expect, but the King we need.
Forgive us for seeking power over humility, control over surrender, and kingdoms of this world over Yours.
Jesus—save us. Save us from misplaced hopes and teach us to trust Your way of peace.
Form us into people who reflect Your love, who serve rather than strive, and who remain faithful when You don’t meet our expectations. As we enter Holy Week, lead us from celebration to surrender, and from surrender to new life. - Amen

For more on this topic listen to the All Saints Podcast: The King We Wanted Vs The King We Needed

We are living in a moment where political identities are becoming spiritual identities.

Increasingly, people are not just voting their convictions, they are discipled by them. On one side, Christian Nationalism wraps the cross in a flag. On the other hand, Progressivism often reshapes faith in line with cultural trends. Both claim moral urgency. Both promise a better world. And both, in their own ways, fall short of the transforming power of the gospel, the good news of Jesus Christ. This is not a call to disengage from society. It’s a call to discern what is ultimate and what is not.

Christian Nationalism confuses the kingdom of God with the kingdoms of this world. It seeks to preserve moral order, but often through power, control, and cultural dominance rather than sacrificial love. At its core is a subtle but dangerous shift: Jesus becomes a means to an end: national strength, cultural stability, or political victory. But the way of Jesus looks nothing like this. Jesus refused political power when offered (Matthew 4). He declared His kingdom “not of this world” (John 18:36). He conquered not through force, but through the cross.

When Christianity becomes fused with nationalism, it loses its prophetic voice. It can no longer challenge injustice if that injustice serves its preferred power structure. The result is a distorted gospel – one that baptizes power instead of crucifying it.
 
Progressivism often begins with a sincere desire for justice, inclusion, and compassion – values deeply rooted in the heart of God. But it can drift into something else: a redefinition of truth based on cultural consensus rather than divine revelation. Here, the danger is different but equally serious. Instead of using power to control, it reshapes truth to affirm. Sin becomes rebranded as self-expression, repentance becomes unnecessary, the authority of Scripture becomes negotiable.

In this framework, Jesus is no longer Savior and Lord, but primarily a moral teacher or social reformer (John 14:5 – ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life). The offense of the gospel—the call to die to self—is softened or removed entirely (Luke 9:23 – whoever wants to be my disciples must deny themselves, and follow me). But a gospel without repentance is not good news. It offers affirmation without transformation.

Though they appear opposed, Christian Nationalism and Progressivism share a deeper similarity: Both attempt to use Jesus to advance a vision of the world, rather than submitting to Jesus as Lord of all. One prioritizes power and order, the other prioritizes freedom and affirmation.

But the gospel transcends both.

The kingdom of God is not built by seizing control, nor by reshaping truth to fit culture. It is built through surrender to a crucified King who redefines both power and freedom.
The gospel does something neither ideology can do: It changes people from the inside out.
Political systems can legislate behavior. Cultural movements can influence norms.
But only the gospel can transform the human heart. And that is where the real crisis lies.
Our deepest problems are not merely political—they are spiritual. Pride, Greed, Fear, Tribalism, and the need for control or validation.

No policy can eradicate these. No movement can fully heal them. But the gospel speaks directly to them. Through Jesus, power is redefined as servanthood; justice is fulfilled through mercy and truth; identity is received, not constructed; enemies are not defeated but loved. This is not a weakness; it is the only power capable of lasting change.

If the church is to be faithful in this moment, it must resist the temptation to be co-opted by either extreme. This means, in my opinion, refusing to equate the kingdom of God with any nation or political agenda, refusing to dilute the truth of the gospel to align with cultural pressures, remaining rooted in Scripture, centered on Jesus, and led by the Spirit

The church does not exist to take power or to mirror culture. It exists to embody an entirely different way of being human. A way marked by humility instead of dominance, truth instead of relativism, love instead of fear, and faithfulness instead of cultural approval. In a world fractured by ideology, the gospel offers something radically different—not a middle ground, but a higher one. Not compromise, but clarity. Not balance, but surrender. The question is not whether we care about the world’s problems—we should. The question is whether we believe the way of Jesus is sufficient to address them. Because if it is, then our allegiance cannot be divided.

We don’t need a politicized gospel. We don’t need a culturally adapted gospel. We need the gospel of Jesus Christ—unchanged, unfiltered, and unashamed.

And it is enough.

Check out the latest All Saints podcast: Designer Jesus vs. The Real One

If you follow the news for even a few minutes, it’s easy to feel like the world is unravelling. Tensions in the Middle East continue to rise as conflict involving Iran threatens to widen and destabilize an already fragile region. The language of war (retaliation, escalation, deterrence) fills our headlines. Meanwhile, here in America, many people feel a different kind of anxiety simmering just beneath the surface. Economic uncertainty, rising costs, political division, and fears about the future leave many wondering what comes next.

It can feel like we’re living in a moment where the ground itself is shifting. And when the ground shifts, people instinctively start looking for something solid to stand on.
Historically, human beings have tried to anchor themselves in power, in wealth, in political leaders, or in national strength. When the world feels dangerous, we want strong armies, strong economies, strong borders, and strong leaders. Strength promises safety. Control promises stability.

But the strange and unsettling message of Jesus is that the kingdom of God doesn’t operate on those terms. Jesus once said something that feels almost absurd in a world defined by power and uncertainty: ‘Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.’ (Mark 10:15)

Think about that for a moment. In a world dominated by empire, military might, and economic control, Jesus points to a child as the model of how God’s kingdom works. Children don’t control their environment. They don’t command armies. They don’t manipulate markets or political systems. They receive. They trust. They depend.

That doesn’t mean children are naïve about danger or pain, but their posture toward life is fundamentally different from the posture of anxious adults trying to hold everything together.
And that’s exactly where the tension lies for us today.

When war looms in places like Iran and economic uncertainty creeps into everyday life here at home, our instinct is to tighten our grip, to secure ourselves, to control outcomes, and to protect our future. But Jesus points us in another direction. He suggests that the kingdom of God is not entered through control, but through trust.

That doesn’t mean Christians ignore the realities of war or economics. The Bible never asks us to pretend that the world isn’t dangerous. Scripture is full of stories of exile, empire, famine, and conflict. But what the gospel does challenge is where we ultimately locate our security.

Is our hope rooted in geopolitical stability?
In the strength of the American economy?
In military dominance or political power?
Or is it rooted somewhere deeper?

The early Christians lived in a far more unstable world than most of us can imagine. The Roman Empire ruled through military force. Economic systems were fragile and exploitative. Persecution was a constant possibility.

And yet, those early followers of Jesus didn’t build their identity on the stability of Rome.
They believed something else was already happening in the world.
They believed that through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, a different kingdom had begun breaking into history, a kingdom not built on domination, but on reconciliation; not built on violence, but on sacrificial love.

That kind of belief changes how you live in uncertain times. It allows you to acknowledge fear without being ruled by it. It allows you to care deeply about the suffering of the world without collapsing into despair. And it frees you from the illusion that everything depends on your ability to control the future. The posture of childlike faith that Jesus describes is not childish ignorance. It is a radical act of trust in a world that feels unstable.

It is the quiet confidence that even when empires clash and economies shake, God’s kingdom is still moving beneath the surface of history. That’s hard for many of us to accept because we’ve spent our lives learning to depend on our own ability to manage risk and secure our lives. We build systems, plans, savings accounts, policies, and strategies – all good and responsible things. But at the deepest level, Jesus asks us a difficult question: What happens when the systems we trust start to tremble?

War reminds us how fragile peace really is. Economic anxiety reminds us how quickly financial security can shift. And moments like this reveal something about the human condition: we want control, but we rarely have as much as we think we do. That’s why Jesus points us toward a child. Because children know something adults forget. They know how to receive.
They know how to trust. And in a world constantly reminding us of our lack of control, Jesus invites us to rediscover that posture. Not as an escape from reality, but as a deeper way to engage with it.

Take a few moments to reflect on these questions (feel free to answer in the comments):

1. When you think about global conflict or economic uncertainty, what fears surface most quickly for you? What do those fears reveal about where you look for security?
2. In what ways might Jesus’ invitation to receive the kingdom “like a child” challenge the way you normally respond to uncertainty or instability?
3. What would it look like this week to practice trust in God in a practical way: through prayer, generosity, peace-making, or refusing to live in constant anxiety?

For more on this topic, listen to The Scandal of Childlike Faith - Episode 186 of the All Saints Podcast

Lent is a season that invites us to slow down and reflect on the meaning of Jesus’ life and death. It is not simply a tradition on the church calendar, it is an opportunity to listen again to the words of Jesus and allow them to expose what is really happening in our hearts.

One of the most striking moments in the Gospels happens in Gospel of Matthew 21:28–32.

Jesus tells a short but unsettling story often called the Parable of the Two Sons. A father asks his first son to go work in the vineyard. The son responds bluntly: “No.” It’s
disrespectful and shocking in that culture. But later, he changes his mind and goes.

The father then asks the second son. This one answers politely: “Yes, sir.” He says all the right things. But he never actually goes. Jesus then asks a simple question: Which one did the father’s will?

The answer is obvious: the first son. But Jesus doesn’t stop there. He delivers a line that must have stunned the religious leaders listening: “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you.”

To understand how provocative this was, we need to see who Jesus was talking to. In the
surrounding passages, he is addressing the religious leadership (people who were respected, disciplined, and morally serious). These were the people who knew the scriptures, followed the rules, and saw themselves as faithful. And yet Jesus says that the people they looked down on (the morally compromised, the socially rejected) were entering God’s kingdom before them. Why? Because of repentance. The first son initially refused his father. But later, he changed his mind.

The phrase Matthew uses literally means he repented. The second son sounded obedient. He had the language, the posture, the appearance of faith. But nothing changed in his life.
The problem Jesus exposes is not simply bad behavior. The deeper problem is a heart that
resists grace.

Many of us hear the word repentance and immediately think of obvious moral failures: exploiting people, lying, cheating, abusing power. Of course those things require repentance. But Jesus is pushing deeper than that. There are many people who can honestly say, “I try to be a good person. I don’t take advantage of people. I work hard. I try to do the right thing.” And yet Jesus still calls for repentance. Why? Because the fundamental issue is not simply moral behavior. The deeper issue is our resistance
to grace.

We are comfortable with Jesus as a teacher.
We are comfortable with Jesus as an example.
We are comfortable with Jesus as someone who inspires us to live better lives.
But it is far more unsettling to see him as a Savior.

Grace forces us to admit something we would rather avoid: our lives are not self-made. We are not the authors of our own redemption. We are people who have been given life at great cost.

Wisdom begins the day we realize we are living a life that was given, not earned.
This is what the parable exposes. It is less about moralism and more about the heart. It
functions like a spiritual X-ray. One son talked back but repented. The other son talked right but disobeyed. God sees beyond the words we say about faith.

As 1 Samuel 16:7 reminds us, “People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” And the parable also asks something uncomfortable of the Church: Have we become like the second son? Do we say the right things about faith, grace, and obedience, but quietly resist the deeper transformation God is inviting us into?

The good news of this story is that repentance is always possible. The first son begins badly but ends well. The story reminds us that it is not how we begin that ultimately matters most–it is where we end up.

Lent draws us back to the heart of the gospel. God did not remain distant. He was willing to
empty himself, to become vulnerable, to step into suffering in order to reach us. God was willing to give his greatest treasure to bring us home.

If that is true, then the most honest response we can make is trust.

Questions for Reflection

1. Which son do you most identify with right now, the one who said “no” but laterchanged, or the one who said “yes” but didn’t follow through?
2. Where might pride, self-sufficiency, or moral comparison be keeping your heart closed to grace?
3. What would repentance actually look like in your life—not just in words, but in action?

A Simple Lent Practice
The Honest Prayer. Each day during Lent, take five quiet minutes and ask two simple questions:

1. Where did I resist grace today?
2. Where is God inviting me to change my mind and trust him?
3. Write down whatever comes to mind. Don’t edit or justify it. Just be honest.
4. End with a short prayer: “God, soften my heart. Help me not just to say yes to you, but to follow you.”

Lent is not about proving ourselves worthy. It is about becoming honest enough to receive grace.

Listen to Episode 185 Why the Good Christians Might Be Missing the Point

I had a counsellor described anxiety to me like this: It means continually living your life “on edge.” In limbo. From worry to worry. Fear to fear. Panic to panic. The guard is constantly up. Terrified of letting anyone in. Petrified of opening yourself to new and uncomfortable
experiences and situations. Always waiting for the next “what-if” to come
to fruition.

Many people suffer from anxiety/worry, or a form of it. It seems like an epidemic
in the US, so many people worrying about things beyond their control, waiting for
an outcome that may never happen.

Jesus knew we needed to hear this; he constantly reminded his hearers: ‘Do not
worry,’ ‘Do not be afraid.’ And yet, we ignore this counsel and allow our blood
pressure to rise, and our hearts to beat out of our chests.

The Apostle Paul exhorts us to realize the peace of God in spite of our
circumstances.

In Philippians 4:6-7 he says: ⁶Do not be anxious about anything. Instead, in every situation, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, tell your requests to God. ⁷And the
peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and
minds [a]  in Christ Jesus.

Here are three encouragements to get the peace we need:

Third, (4:6), Here is where Paul gets practical. This command is negative, but it has a positive twist: “Do not be anxious about anything.” This is not unfamiliar to Paul. Possibly, he heard Jesus speak about anxiety in the Sermon on the Mount (Matt 6:25–34), where Jesus gives a list of the most common things that give us anxiety in this life. They are: physical (v. 27); clothing (v. 28); food and drink (v. 31); and the future (v. 34). It’s unfortunate that even those capable of obtaining these things still experience worry and anxiety. However, Paul encourages that worry and anxiety can be eased: “but in everything by prayer,” prayer alleviates anxiety. The key point of the verse is crucial: prayer should be offered “with thanksgiving.” An attitude of gratitude is the stance we adopt when approaching the Father for anything and everything.

Finally, (4:7) The answer to anxiety and worry is the peace of God. This is a divine peace.; it is not dependent on circumstance or merit, It is a peace that is given to all who believe. Next, it “transcends all understanding.” How appropriate for all of us to realize the limits of knowledge. And Paul, the scholar, tells us that peace exceeds knowledge. All of us can describe times when knowledge wasn’t enough; it couldn’t explain “why.” And sometimes those explanations come up short. It is peace that is ALWAYS enough to meet the needs of the heart.
This peace will “guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” I like
how scholars describe this verse: “’Guard’ is a military term, implying that peace
stands on duty to keep out anything that brings care and anxiety.”

It would then seem right to say that prayerful people are peaceful people.

Listen to Episode 184 - The Freedom of I Don't Know
 
Reflective Questions:

1. When anxiety rises in you, what are you most trying to control — yourfuture, your reputation, your security, or something else?
2. How might gratitude change the tone of your prayers this week?
3. What would it look like for you to live as if God’s peace were actively guarding your heart today?
4. What bible verse or quote do you turn to for peace?

Can prayer really change anything?

It’s one of the most honest questions we can ask. Does prayer make a dent in the world? Does it influence God? Or does it simply comfort us when life feels beyond our control?

In Episode 183 of the All Saints Podcast, Bill Berger explores prayer not as a formula for outcomes, but as an act of surrender.

Prayer Begins Where Self-Sufficiency Ends

Alan Lewis once wrote: “To pray is to confess not the abundance, but the exhaustion of one's verbal, intellectual, and spiritual resources. It is surrender.”

Prayer isn’t a display of strength. It’s the admission that we are out of words, out of answers, and out of control. And yet Jesus says something that feels almost too bold: “You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.” — John 14:14

Anything?

Interpreting “Ask Anything”

Historically, this verse has been misunderstood. It has been used to imply that if you pray hard enough, believe strongly enough, or eliminate all doubt, God must answer. But that shifts power into the hands of the person praying.

Jesus isn’t giving us a mechanism to control heaven. He is inviting us into trust. To pray “in Jesus’ name” means to align with His character, His mission, and His glory—not merely our preferences. Prayer releases the work of Jesus into the world. But not always in the way we expect.

The Role of Doubt

In Mark 9, a father cries out to Jesus: “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” That is faith. Not certainty. Not perfection. Not spiritual bravado. Faith is bringing our uncertainty to God.

We don’t clean up our doubts before we pray. We bring them with us.

Why Some Prayers Go Unanswered

If God answered every prayer exactly as requested, prayer would be terrifying. It would be like handing a nine-year-old the keys to a car. God may answer according to what we would ask if we knew what He knows. Some unanswered prayers are mercy. Some “no’s” are protection. Some “waits” are love.

This doesn’t make suffering easy. It doesn’t solve every question. But it reframes prayer as relational trust rather than transactional leverage.

Four Principles of Prayer:

1. Pray from surrender, not control. Prayer is not a strategy to manage God. It is surrendering our agenda to His.
2. Pray with honest faith—even with doubt. Faith is not the absence of questions. It is bringing those questions to God.
3. Pray for God’s glory, not just our outcomes. We ask boldly—but we trust His wisdom.
4. Pray as a way of life, not just a lifeline.

We pray in joy and sorrow, gratitude and confusion, abundance and need. Prayer isn’t a last resort. It’s participation in what God is doing in the world. Prayer may not always change circumstances the way we want. But it always changes the one who prays.

Reflection for Lent

• What would it look like to pray not to control outcomes, but to surrender control?
• What would change if you trusted that every yes, no, and wait was governed by love?

Study Questions for Personal Reflection:

1. When you think about prayer, do you see it more as a request, a surrender, or a strategy
2. Have you experienced an unanswered prayer? How did it shape your faith?
3. What does “praying in Jesus’ name” mean to you?
4. Where are you currently tempted to control rather than surrender?
5. Do you pray only in crisis—or also in joy and gratitude?
6. How comfortable are you bringing doubt into prayer?

What Is Lent?
What is Lent—and why do millions of Christians around the world observe it every year?
Lent is a 40-day season leading up to Easter. It’s a time of reflection, repentance, prayer, and renewal. It begins on Ash Wednesday and prepares us for the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. But Lent isn’t about religious guilt or spiritual performance. It’s about slowing down long enough to remember who we are—and whose we are.

What Does Lent Mean?
The word “Lent” comes from an old English word meaning “spring”—a season of lengthening days and new life.
Spiritually, that’s the idea: clearing away what is dead so something new can grow.
The 40 days mirror Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness—where He fasted, faced temptation, and prepared for His public ministry.
Lent invites us into our own wilderness—not to get lost, but to be transformed.

What Do People Do During Lent?
Traditionally, Christians practice three things:
1. Prayer – Making space to listen to God.
2. Fasting – Giving something up to create spiritual focus.
3. Generosity – Turning outward in love toward others.
Some people give up sugar, alcohol, social media, or distractions.
Others add something—daily Scripture reading, silence, or acts of mercy.
The point isn’t self-improvement.
It’s reorientation.
Lent exposes what controls us—and invites God to reshape our desires.

Frequently Asked Questions

Is Lent just for Catholics?
No. While it’s rooted in ancient church tradition, many Protestant and Orthodox Christians observe Lent as well.

Why 40 days?
In the Bible, 40 often represents testing and preparation—Israel in the wilderness, Moses on Sinai, Jesus in the desert.

Is it biblical to “give something up”?
Fasting is biblical. But Lent practices are tools, not commands. They’re meant to help, not burden.

What if I mess up?
You will. That’s part of it. Lent isn’t about perfection—it’s about returning. Again and again.

Why Lent Still Matters?
We live in a culture of speed, noise, and instant gratification. Lent pushes back.
It teaches us that transformation doesn’t come through control—but through surrender.
It reminds us that before there is resurrection, there is reflection.
Before celebration, there is surrender.
And in the quiet work of these 40 days, grace does what striving never could.

We’ve cleaned the Christmas story up so much that it’s almost unrecognizable. In our imaginations, it’s warm lighting, cute animals, and sentimental songs.
But the real scene?
Cold. Unsanitary.
A scared young couple improvising in the dark.
A feeding trough because no one would make space for them.

Jesus wasn’t just born into homelessness—He carried it His entire life.
He began life in borrowed space.
He ended life in borrowed space.
And in between, He said, “I have no place to lay my head.”
Why?

Because the only way to bring us home was to step into our homelessness Himself.
Advent tells us that God does not shout at us from across eternity. He comes close enough to feel the drafts in the room, close enough to experience rejection, close enough to enter into the disorientation we often hide from ourselves.

If Christmas is only inspirational, it changes nothing.
If it’s true—if God became homeless to bring us home—it changes everything.

So How Do We Come Home? Four Advent Practices

1. Naming Our Displacement
Repentance isn’t spiritual shame—it’s clarity.
It’s finally admitting:
“The way I’ve been building my life doesn’t match who I was made to be.”
It’s the moment you stop trying to pitch a tent on sinking sand. It is not self-hate—it’s surgery. Yes, it’s uncomfortable, but it’s also the only way healing happens.

2. Accepting That Following Jesus Isn’t Always Applauded
Jesus experienced rejection long before the cross.
So will we.
Not because we’re odd or moralistic, but because we’ve shifted our allegiance. When God becomes home, the world’s approval becomes less essential. And strangely enough, that creates freedom—not isolation.

3. Moving Toward Those the World Pushes Away
Jesus did not save from a distance.
He moved into the neighborhood.
He shared the conditions of the poor, the margins, the outsiders.
Advent calls us to the same posture:
to step toward the lonely, the immigrant, the hurting, the overlooked, the difficult.
To create home for those who don’t feel they have one.

4. Putting God Back at the Center
Good things turn into destructive things when we ask them to be ultimate.
Careers buckle.
Families strain.
Relationships implode.
Our souls feel thin.
Advent invites us to re-center our lives on the only One who can actually bear the weight of our longing.

The Good News of Advent
Isaiah’s vision ends with music—songs of people coming home with joy that will never be taken from them. That’s not fantasy. That’s a promise woven through the entire story of Scripture.

A day is coming when deserts bloom, sorrows flee, and joy overwhelms everything that once overwhelmed us.
But even now—even before that day fully arrives—Jesus is already building a home in us and for us.

He became homeless so we could finally belong.
He entered darkness so we could walk in light.
He tasted loneliness so we would never be alone again.
This is why Christmas matters.

This is why we wait with hope.
This is why Advent is good news for the spiritually displaced.

Home will be arriving.
And His name is Jesus.
Merry Christmas.

It doesn't take much searching to find social media accounts and personalities discussing deconstructing Christianity. Some are helpful, some contribute to the cynicism, and some are reacting to painful experiences. However, Followers of Jesus are not immune to spiritual crisis. This is typically brought on by suffering, an extended period of waiting, family dysfunction, toxic behaviour by a trusted leader, or the hypocrisy of another Christian. Experiences like these can cause you to question not only the presence of God but some of the beliefs you’ve learned and practised about God.

Deconstruction is a term first used by Jacques Derrida. It is a complex term, but essentially it is a method of literary criticism that says you can’t understand something about absolute truth by reading an author's words, since truth is something that is conceived by the individual.  In the Christian world, it is to question traditional beliefs critically, and refuse to recognise as authorities those who occupy privileged positions who supposedly speak for God.’

It is particularly used by those who emphasise belief over practice. Depending on your disposition, deconstruction is either met with empathy and understanding or fear and hostility. Deconstruction refers to the times when we critically evaluate the system or accumulation of doctrines and beliefs about God that we’ve believed throughout our history with God.

Numerous examples of deconstruction occur in scripture and then throughout church history. Abraham, Moses, and David each had their faith stripped down and rebuilt. Jesus not only permitted but encouraged deconstruction by way of his frequent preface to ethical teaching: “You’ve heard it said, but I say to you.”

During the massive disruptions we are currently undergoing, large numbers of Christians are undergoing deconstruction due to various pressures, political divisiveness, and the unsettling of church leaders by scandal or theological diversion.

I want to consider some tools that enable us to wisely and lovingly navigate deconstruction (which can result in leaving or disregarding the faith) by reconstructing something better. Here are five guiding practices so that we might learn how to deconstruct faithfully:

Don’t do it alone.

One of the strongest tendencies during a crisis of faith is to withdraw and isolate ourselves from trusting others. Especially when the event that triggered this experience was the betrayal or mistreatment by another Christian, the natural tendency is to sever ties from the community as a whole.
At times, it is healthier to create boundaries and put distance between oneself and other Christians when there has been hurt or disappointment. However, avoid becoming alone on an island. Christianity is a communal faith because we need each other. We need each other’s gifts to make the most significant impact on the world. Additionally, we need each other’s perspectives to arrive at a complete, holistic picture of God. Without others to trust, our reconstruction will be partial and incomplete.
It is normal (and healthy) to take a break from organised religion for a time. Try to find a trusted spiritual director, mentor, or teacher to walk with you in this process.  

Establish your foundation early.

As easy as it is to begin with what you don’t believe or won’t practice, start by identifying what you DO believe. Write it down. Think of it as the beginning of a personal statement of faith. Even if there are only one or two things you are willing to build your life on, identify what they are. Otherwise, this process of change will become destructive deconstruction instead of constructive deconstruction.

I really like Kate Bowler’s perspective on the cliché: “everything happens for a reason.” She talks about how, she had endured enough death, loss, and suffering until it became increasingly uncomfortable with God being the cause of everything happening to her. At first, there was an urge to overreact and overcorrect her beliefs. However, amid all the mysteries surrounding divine intervention, one thing she knew for sure was that Jesus was a God of redemption. From scripture and her own experience, she knew Jesus redeems our pain and loss. He turns death into life—crucifixion into resurrection. By clinging to this foundation, she was able to reconstruct a view of God’s sovereignty where God was no longer the cause but the redeemer of all things.

Start from the outside and work your way in.

Another way of thinking about a system of belief is a set of concentric circles. In the centre are core convictions. These are the things that serve as the foundations and essentials of your faith. Some examples include convictions about the resurrection of Jesus or the forgiveness of others, as I have been forgiven. The centre circle holds my non-negotiables.

Then, as you move outward, the particular subject in question becomes more and more negotiable. Put differently, the subjects in the outer rings are grey areas. For example, some may not hold my views about end times (how, when, etc.) in the same way they hold their view on the divinity of Jesus. One, a person may stake their life on, while the other contains a list of things that cannot be predicted.
Whenever engaging in theological deconstruction that seems to unravel your trust, start from the outside and work your way in. Ask whether what you are debating, inside or out, is something the Church holds as “negotiable” within the Christian faith. Does the topic have many different (and valid) opinions and viewpoints? If so, it’s fine to use discernment with those topics, but do so trusting that one day “God will make it plain” (Phil 3:15).

Try to differentiate between belief and behaviour.

Again, a common cause for spiritual crisis is the mistreatment or hypocrisy of another leader or a fellow believer. It’s painful to experience harmful behaviour from another Christ follower. You might begin to question the common faith you both share. How is it possible that you believe the same things and act so differently? Conflict can sometimes stem from divergent beliefs. However, many church wounds are not due to differences in beliefs but rather to lapses in behaviour. For example, two Christians can agree with Jesus’s statement to love our enemy; however, for reasons not always perceived, the other person failed to embody that conviction that day.
So here are two reminders. First, be careful not to judge, because odds are you’ve failed too. Each time I am hurt by another church member, part of my reconciliation process is reminding myself that I am not perfect either. I fail to embody my beliefs on a regular basis. Secondly, whenever a conflict leads me to question the validity of the Church as a whole or of Christianity in general, I try to remind myself that there is usually a gap between belief and behaviour. Though someone’s behaviour is harmful, it doesn’t mean their trust in Christ is invalid. I certainly need the grace and mercy of others when I fail to practice what I preach each week.

Choose to do this work with God, not to God.

Invite God with you into this work of constructive deconstruction. If you are questioning an aspect of faith that eventually doesn’t align with the teachings of Jesus, then you are still engaged in something holy. In John 8:32, Jesus says that “you will know the truth and the truth will set you free.” I fully believe that Jesus not only wants to free us from sin and death but from dangerous theological misconceptions that are harming both us and our neighbours.
Try turning your critical questions into prayers.

God, I am really struggling to believe in ___________. Will you please give me clarity?
God, I really don’t know what to think about ___________. Please reveal your truth to me.

It might be a week, a month, a year or decades before you get any answer. However, the story of Jacob reminds us that the answers come to those who are willing to struggle for them. For those willing to wrestle with it. For those who dare to say to God, “I won’t let go until you bless me.” This is where truth is found.
So, as we seek to extend the grace of Christ to ourselves, and to someone experiencing deconstruction — however passively or actively, however privately or publicly — it will be important to carefully ask clarifying questions, and listen well, to inform how we do or do not respond, so that our love may “abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment” (Philippians 1:9).

Join us on our app (download it here: believedoubtseek.org). We welcome the discussion and want to help navigate these questions.

Let’s be honest: much of what passes for “Christian politics” in America today has little to do with Jesus. We’ve hijacked His name to prop up our platforms, draped Him in party colors, and acted as if He came to secure our votes instead of our souls. But the Jesus of Scripture refuses to be weaponized. His kingdom doesn’t fit our categories, and His politics will offend everyone who tries to make Him their mascot. If your Jesus always agrees with your politics, it’s not Him you’re worshipping—it’s yourself.

If Jesus were to engage with Christian Nationalists, he would say:
“My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place.” (John 18:36, NIV)

This wasn’t a rejection of justice or civic life but a declaration of purpose. Jesus didn’t come to reform governments; He came to transform hearts. His politics were not rooted in power, conquest, or control but in love, humility, and sacrifice.

Consider how Jesus interacted with political groups of His day. The Pharisees wanted religious law enforced. The Zealots sought violent revolution against Roman rule. The Sadducees cooperated with the empire for personal gain. Yet Jesus didn’t align Himself with any of them. He challenged corruption and injustice wherever He saw it, but refused to let His mission be reduced to a political campaign.

Jesus' politics prioritised the marginalised. He healed the sick, touched the untouchable, and uplifted the poor. He told His followers to love their enemies, bless those who curse them, and turn the other cheek. These teachings weren’t politically expedient; they were revolutionary. They still are, even though many ‘Christians’ in America seem to disagree.

The Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5–7) could be called Jesus' political manifesto. In it, Jesus blessed the poor in spirit, the meek, the merciful, and the peacemakers—not the powerful, the rich, or the aggressive. He wasn’t pushing for votes; He was building a new humanity.
So, what do Jesus' politics mean for us today? It means followers of Jesus are called to live as citizens of a higher kingdom, marked not by who we vote for, but by how we love. It means engaging in the world without becoming enslaved by it. It means speaking truth to power but never trading the cross for a throne.

Jesus’ politics are radical, subversive, and full of grace. They invite us not to take sides but to take up our cross and follow him…everywhere and to everyone.

Four ways to apply Jesus’ kingdom politics to everyday life

1. Refuse to Let Politics Define Your Identity
Our deepest belonging is not to a party or ideology but to Christ. Paul reminds us: “But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ” (Philippians 3:20). Let your faith shape your identity more than cultural or political labels.

2. Practice Enemy-Love in a Polarized World
Jesus said, “But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). This doesn’t mean avoiding hard truths, but it does mean refusing to mirror the hostility and contempt that dominate our public square.

3. Prioritize the Marginalized
Kingdom politics turns our attention to the vulnerable. Jesus declared: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor… freedom for the oppressed” (Luke 4:18). Following Him means choosing compassion and advocacy over indifference and self-interest.

4. Live the Sermon on the Mount in Small Ways
Jesus’ “political manifesto” begins with: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God” (Matthew 5:9). In daily life, we reflect His kingdom by seeking reconciliation, practicing mercy, and embodying humility wherever we are planted.

These practices don’t withdraw us from the world—they immerse us in it with a different allegiance. We live as citizens of Christ’s kingdom, marked by love, truth, and grace.
Jesus’ politics aren’t about seizing power but laying it down. They aren’t about winning elections but about winning hearts through sacrificial love. To follow Jesus is to resist the temptation to baptize our politics with divine authority. Instead, we live as ambassadors of a kingdom that transcends human systems.

In the end, Jesus’ words guide us: “Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well” (Matthew 6:33). To live this way is to engage deeply in the world, but with a posture that says: Christ is Lord, and no political ideology can take His place.

We live in a world that is loud, hurried, and opinionated. Voices compete for our attention—on screens, in conversations, and even in our own heads. Yet the Bible consistently calls us to a posture that is countercultural: the sacred art of listening. Listening is not passive; it is an intentional act that shapes our wisdom, relationships, and faith.

Here are five ways Scripture highlights why listening matters so deeply:

1. Listening Leads to Wisdom
Proverbs 1:5 tells us, “Let the wise listen and add to their learning, and let the discerning get guidance.” The path to wisdom begins not with speaking, but with listening—listening to God, to mentors, and to those whose life experiences can guide us. When we pause to truly hear, we position ourselves to gain understanding.

2. Listening Deepens Our Relationship with God
Jesus said in John 10:27, “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” The Christian life is built on recognizing and responding to the voice of the Shepherd. Listening to God through prayer, Scripture, and the prompting of the Spirit is essential for knowing His will and walking closely with Him.

3. Listening Honors Others
James 1:19 urges us: “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” Listening is an act of love. It shows others that their stories, struggles, and perspectives matter. In a divided world, few things are as powerful—or as healing—as offering someone your full attention.

4. Listening Helps Us Avoid Foolishness
Proverbs 18:13 cautions, “To answer before listening—that is folly and shame.” How often do misunderstandings and conflicts arise because we speak before we’ve truly heard? Careful listening prevents hasty words, fosters wise decision-making, and protects us from unnecessary strife.

5. Listening Fuels Growth and Faith
Romans 10:17 reminds us, “Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.” Our spiritual growth is rooted in listening—listening to God’s Word preached, taught, and shared in community. Every time we hear and receive truth, our faith deepens and matures.
 
Listening as Peacemaking
At its heart, listening is about more than acquiring wisdom or avoiding conflict. It is about becoming people of peace. In our fractured society, listening creates space for reconciliation and understanding. As followers of Jesus, we are called to listen not only to God but also to one another—even, and perhaps especially, to those who see the world differently than we do.

Listening is both our joy and our responsibility. When we listen, we imitate Christ, who leaned in to hear the cries of the broken, the questions of the curious, and the prayers of the desperate.

So this week, slow down. Put away distractions. Be quick to listen. You may just find that in listening—really listening—you encounter not only others but also the voice of God Himself.

Allow me to nerd out on this post.

I have been researching the book of Acts, examining the early church as a model of a rhizome. This is a valuable framework for understanding the concept of the ‘rhizome’ introduced by philosopher Gilles Deleuze. He defines a rhizome as a structure where ‘any point… can be connected to anything other and must be.’ The ongoing debates about what constitutes ‘church’ within both modernist and postmodernist discussions reveal a structural and organizational bias rooted in hierarchical and binary thinking. I believe a conversation around the meaning of ‘church’ is essential for the Church in the United States today.

We often find ourselves debating whether churches are too large or too small. Ultimately, it's not just about the size but also about what Deleuze describes as ‘lines of flight’—the dynamics of movement and growth that matter. We oscillate between the megachurches that resemble entertaining theaters—the ‘Jesus show’—and the house churches that can become stagnant in their domesticity. But what if we explored the concept of a rhizome church? It's important to recognize that Deleuze and Guattari emphasized decentralization and dispossession. I use the term ‘rhizome church’ to describe a vibrant and evolving network that is interconnected and transformative, operating on a global scale.

The rhizome church embodies an incarnational approach, enabling the transformative presence of Christ to ‘indigenize’ in relational contexts, without solely focusing on traditional ‘Christian’ activities. The rhizomatic idea of ‘where two or three are gathered together’ becomes increasingly relevant in this context.

Deleuze introduced the notion of the ‘rhizome’ to encourage a ‘new image of thought,’ particularly in relation to signs, concepts, and our understanding of history and interpretation. As Geoff Holsclaw aptly notes, ‘because we live in a global world, we inhabit an ever-configuring space of rhizomatic processes.’ We truly need a fresh perspective in ecclesiology today, and he is absolutely right.

There have been so many instances of foolishness in the news lately. I don’t intend to go into detail what those might be. I am not exempt from foolishness. Therefore, I’d rather have the wisdom to identify and avoid foolishness. It takes a fool to display foolishness. So, let me highlight a few examples of the kinds of fools there are.

Fools come in many varieties; recognizing these differences is crucial for our well-being. When you hear the word “fool,” it’s easy to picture someone else, someone not like me. However, the Bible speaks of various kinds of fools, each profoundly disconnected from reality. You must first understand these types to protect yourself from their detrimental influence. Awareness is the first step towards safeguarding your life from foolishness. Identifying and distancing yourself from these influences empowers you to lead a wiser and more fulfilling life. Don’t let their foolishness undermine your potential; take action now to protect your peace of mind!

Proverbs 1:22 mentions these kinds of fools.
Let’s begin with a simple fool – (Proverbs 14:15) A simple fool is so intellectually uninformed that they can’t discern between good and bad ideas. They often struggle to recognize good and bad leaders or companions.  A simple fool is easily led, too easily influenced, and lacks commitment to their pursuits. They are drawn to the spectacular and appreciate dramatic, sensational experiences.

A stubborn fool – (Proverbs 15:5) The essence of being a fool is an inability to accept criticism; they think they know everything and how things will turn out.  The simple fool believes everyone, while the stubborn fool trusts no one but themselves. The simple fool is paralyzed by criticism, whereas the stubborn fool shrugs it off, resulting in a lack of flexibility.

A ruthless fool – While simple fools are devastated by criticism, Stubborn fools, shrug off criticism, and ruthless fools pay you back for criticism. They will pay you back for ever having done it.

Fools are driven by pride (Proverbs 21:24). On the surface, they appear savvy and astute regarding money and relationships. However, they can be exploitative and, in many cases, abusive. When you believe you have a relationship with a fool, and then your relationship ceases to benefit them, they drop you.

When fools get exposed, they ridicule, scorn, and act ruthlessly. All of these types are out of touch with reality, and as a result, they ruin and devastate the lives around them.

I had a great conversation today with some friends about the state of the world and the church's role in the United States. We found some areas of agreement and some areas of disagreement. Ultimately, we realized that we want the same things, but we see them from a different perspective and a different way to get there. A part of our conversation was about the rise of Christian Nationalism. I want to define Christian Nationalism and explain how it differs from the faith of Christianity.

What is Christian nationalism?

Christian nationalism is the belief that America is defined by Christianity and that the government should support this idea. Supporters say that America must stay a "Christian nation." They view this not just as an observation of history but as a guiding principle for the future. Scholars like Samuel Huntington also argue that American identity comes from its "Anglo-Protestant" roots, warning that we might lose our identity and freedom if we do not preserve this heritage.

Christian nationalists do not reject the First Amendment or want a theocracy, but they believe Christianity should have a special role in public life. The term "Christian nationalism" is relatively new, and many who support this idea do not call themselves by this name. However, it accurately describes those who think American identity is closely linked to Christianity.
What do Christian nationalists want that is different from normal Christian engagement in politics?
 
Christian nationalists want to define America as a Christian nation and have the government promote a specific culture as the official culture of the country. Some have suggested changing the Constitution to recognize America’s Christian heritage, while others want to bring prayer back into public schools. Some are working to include a Christian nationalist view of American history in school classes, claiming that America has a special relationship with God or is "chosen" to carry out a unique mission on Earth. Others support immigration limits to prevent changes in American religious and ethnic backgrounds or culture. Some also want the government to take stronger actions against behavior they see as immoral.

Christian nationalism often shows itself not just through politics but also through a particular attitude. This attitude includes a belief that Christians should have a special place in public life because they see themselves as the true representatives of American culture. They feel entitled to define what America means, viewing themselves as its original builders and main citizens.

How is this dangerous for the United States?

Christian nationalism often treats other Americans as less important. If it were fully implemented, it would not protect everyone's religious freedom. Allowing the government to pass laws that control people's behavior carries risks. These include the possibility of overreach, setting negative examples, and creating powers that could one day be used against Christians.

Additionally, Christian nationalism is predominantly an ideology held by white Americans, which may exacerbate racial and ethnic divisions. In recent years, this movement has increasingly been defined by a sense of fear and a belief among its proponents that Christians are victims of persecution. Some are beginning to argue that American Christians need to prepare to fight physically to preserve America’s identity, an argument that played into the January 6 riot.

How is Christian nationalism dangerous to the church?

Christian nationalism uses Christ’s name to promote a political agenda, claiming it represents the views of all true believers. This is concerning because it supports unjust causes, linking Christian nationalism with illiberalism. In this way, it calls evil good and good evil. Christian nationalism takes Christ’s name to push its political goals, treating Jesus’ message as a tool for propaganda and viewing the church as a supporter of the state.

Christianity defined

Christianity focuses on Jesus Christ and His teachings, as described in the Christian Scriptures and the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds. It brings together people from many nations, tribes, and languages to worship Jesus (Rev. 7:9). This faith unites Jews, Greeks, Americans, and non-Americans.

Christianity also has political aspects. Followers believe their faith can challenge and influence their loyalty to worldly matters. While there are different opinions about the political implications of the Christian faith, key teachings include paying taxes, loving your neighbors, and seeking justice.

Christian nationalism is a political belief that focuses on America's national identity. It includes a specific view of the country's history and government that is not based on the Bible. Many historians and political scientists disagree with this view. Significantly, Christian nationalism suggests specific policies that it claims are based on the Bible. However, these policies are often just interpretations of biblical principles or, in some cases, entirely oppose them.

What is the response? I believe the first is prayer. Second, listen to understand. Third, read and research. Know what the issues are. Look at history. Search the scriptures. Finally, humility. None of us have the market on certainty; let’s be the first to admit that.

Resources:
-The Religion of American Greatness by Paul Miller
-The Kingdom, the power, and the glory by Tim Alberda
-Money, Lies, and God by Katherine Stewart

It was GK Chesterton who famously said, "The coziness between church and state is good for the state and bad for the church." This insightful remark touches on the complex relationship between religion and politics, a dynamic that has played a significant role in shaping societies throughout history. In the United States today, we see this dynamic unfolding in unexpected ways, particularly in the political support that religious groups lend to certain politicians. One of the most striking examples of this is Donald Trump’s relationship with Evangelical Christians, a group that overwhelmingly supported him during the 2016, 2020 and 2024 elections. In fact, a remarkable 81% of Evangelicals voted for Trump, according to the Public Religion Research Institute (PRRI). This statistic is all the more surprising given Trump’s personal history and his often controversial rhetoric.

To understand why such a high percentage of Evangelicals supported a man who seemed an unlikely candidate for their endorsement, we need to look at the broader historical context of the relationship between church and politics in the U.S. Over the past 60 years, Evangelical Christians have been a powerful political force, particularly in the Southern and Midwestern states; and, they have often allied with political leaders who champion their conservative values. For many Evangelicals, issues like opposition to abortion, support for traditional marriage, and religious freedom are paramount. Donald Trump, despite his personal flaws, was able to position himself as a defender of these values. His administration appointed numerous conservative judges, including three Supreme Court justices, and took a strong stance against abortion. His rhetoric and policies aligned with many of the concerns of the Evangelical community, and in this regard, he earned their loyalty.

However, this "coziness" between the church and the state, as Chesterton warned, is not without its dangers. While the alignment between political power and the church can provide short-term gains for the church, it can also have significant long-term consequences. The Church risks losing its spiritual authority and moral clarity when it becomes too closely tied to political power. Rather than serving as a voice of conscience, the church can become an instrument of political agendas, vulnerable to the whims of the political party with which it is presently aligned.

This is particularly problematic when the political leader in question does not embody the ethical or moral values that the church purports to uphold. Donald Trump’s personal life, including his divorces, inflammatory rhetoric, and often divisive actions, stands in starkly contrast with the teachings of humility, forgiveness, and love that are central to the Christian faith. This is where the tension between Chesterton's warning and reality becomes evident. In supporting Trump, many Evangelicals may have gained political victories, but they risked losing the very moral clarity that religious conviction can provide.

Moreover, the alliance between Evangelical Christianity and political power has further polarized the American public. The "culture wars" that have come to define much of U.S. politics are deeply entwined with religious beliefs, and the close relationship between Evangelicals and Trump only amplified these divisions. Rather than being a unifying force, Evangelical influencers became a tool for deepening partisan divides; with similarly committed progressive Christian voices also seeking influence, each side uses the language of faith to justify their political positions.

The consequences of this cozy relationship between church and state extend beyond just Evangelicals. As religious identity becomes more politicized, it alienates individuals who may not share the same beliefs or who feel that their faith has been hijacked for political purposes. This diminishes the church’s ability to be a force for moral guidance and social good as its influence becomes tied to the ebb and flow of political fortunes.

Chesterton’s warning about the coziness between church and state remains as relevant today as ever. While it may benefit the state (and the church in the short term), it is ultimately bad for the church, which risks losing its independence, moral authority, and universal appeal. The strong support that the Republican party received from Evangelicals illustrates the dangers of this entanglement, and the ongoing political influence of religious groups in America raises important questions about the future role of faith in public life. If the Evangelical church is to retain its spiritual integrity, it must resist the temptation to align too closely with any political figure or party, no matter how advantageous the alliance may seem.