Navigating Faith In A Dark Age, Part 2
The shadows are lengthening across our cultural landscape. We find ourselves in what many are calling a new dark age—an era marked by polarization, spiritual confusion, and the weaponization of faith itself. In this turbulent time, how do we maintain authentic spiritual grounding while witnessing the distortion of sacred principles into tools of division?
The question confronting us is not whether darkness exists—it manifestly does—but how we choose to respond to it. Do we retreat into religious fortresses, hurling theological stones at perceived enemies? Or do we seek something deeper, more enduring, in the sacred domain that transcends human constructs?
This exploration requires courage. It demands we examine not only the failures of others but the potential for corruption within our own hearts. Most challenging of all, it asks us to distinguish between genuine spiritual awakening and its many counterfeits.
True spiritual life rests upon three pillars that have withstood every dark age in human history: love for the Divine, love for our neighbors, and love for ourselves. These are not mere philosophical abstractions but living principles that transform how we engage with our world.
Love for God—however we understand the sacred—calls us beyond the narrow confines of sectarian thinking. It invites us into mystery, humility, and recognition that the Divine transcends our theological categories. This love prevents us from claiming exclusive ownership of truth or wielding faith as a weapon against those who see differently.
Love for our neighbors extends beyond those who share our beliefs, our politics, or our cultural background. It encompasses the stranger, the opponent, even those we believe to be deeply misguided. This radical inclusivity becomes our litmus test for authentic spiritual practice.
Perhaps most challenging is love for ourselves—not the narcissistic self-absorption that characterizes much of contemporary culture, but the deep acceptance of our own humanity, complete with its shadows and limitations. Without this self-compassion, we project our unresolved darkness onto others, creating the very divisions that tear apart the fabric of spiritual community.
We witness disturbing examples of faith being transformed into an instrument of division. Consider figures like Charlie Kirk, who began with seemingly genuine intentions to engage young people in meaningful dialogue about faith and culture. Yet somewhere along the journey, the message became distorted, transformed into something that serves not the sacred but the machinery of political and cultural warfare.
This transformation represents one of the great tragedies of our time. Individuals with genuine spiritual insights become unwitting agents of what can only be described as an anti-Christ spirit—not in the apocalyptic sense, but in the very real sense of opposing the fundamental message of divine love and reconciliation.
The tragedy deepens when we recognize that such figures often remain unaware of this transformation. They believe they are serving God while actually serving the forces that divide and destroy. This blindness is perhaps the most insidious aspect of our current dark age—the inability to distinguish between authentic spiritual authority and its sophisticated counterfeits.
The danger lies not just in obvious extremism but in the subtle ways that fear, anger, and the desire for power corrupt even well-intentioned spiritual movements. When faith communities become echo chambers that reinforce prejudice rather than challenge it, when religious language is used to justify cruelty rather than promote compassion, we know that something essential has been lost.
Physical violence against our fellow human beings represents an obvious betrayal of spiritual principles. Most faith traditions explicitly condemn such actions, recognizing them as antithetical to the sacred nature of human life. Yet we must expand our understanding of violence to include its more subtle but equally destructive forms.
Philosophical violence—the systematic attempt to dehumanize those who hold different beliefs—has become endemic in our discourse. We see it in the way political opponents are portrayed not merely as wrong but as evil, in the reduction of complex human beings to caricatures worthy only of contempt.
Pseudo-religious violence may be even more insidious. This involves the use of sacred language and concepts to justify hatred, exclusion, and cruelty. When scripture is cherry-picked to support prejudice, when divine authority is claimed for human opinions, when the name of God is invoked to sanctify division—this represents a profound violation of the sacred.
These forms of violence are particularly dangerous because they often masquerade as righteousness. They allow us to feel virtuous while engaging in the very behaviors that authentic spirituality seeks to heal. They transform houses of worship into recruiting stations for cultural warfare and turn sacred texts into ammunition for ideological battles.
The antidote to such violence is not passive acceptance of all ideas—some concepts truly are harmful and must be challenged—but rather the cultivation of what we might call sacred discernment. This involves the ability to oppose harmful ideas while maintaining love and respect for the persons who hold them.
The only sustainable response to our current crisis lies in what can be called the sacred domain—that realm of spiritual reality that exists beyond all human religious and philosophical constructs. This is not a place of theological relativism where all beliefs are equally valid, but rather a recognition that ultimate truth transcends our capacity to fully capture it in words or systems.
This domain is characterized by direct experience of the Divine rather than mere intellectual assent to doctrines. It involves what mystics across traditions have described as union with ultimate reality—a state of consciousness that naturally produces love, compassion, and wisdom rather than division and conflict.
Accessing this sacred domain requires what spiritual traditions call “kenosis”—a emptying of the self that makes room for divine presence. This means releasing our attachment to being right, our need to control others’ beliefs, and our tendency to identify the sacred with our particular understanding of it.
Those who touch this domain consistently report similar experiences: the dissolution of artificial barriers between self and other, a profound sense of connection with all life, and an understanding that love is not merely a human emotion but the fundamental fabric of reality itself.
Yet we must be honest about our limitations. None of us inhabit this sacred domain consistently while embodied in human form. We catch glimpses of it, have moments of genuine spiritual awakening, but inevitably return to the challenges of navigating ordinary consciousness with its fears, desires, and illusions.
Our current dark age may be a necessary prelude to genuine spiritual awakening. Throughout history, periods of greatest spiritual breakthrough have often been preceded by times of confusion, conflict, and apparent spiritual bankruptcy. The darkness forces us to question assumptions we have taken for granted and seek deeper sources of meaning and connection.
The challenge is maintaining faith during this transitional period without falling into either despair or false certainty. We must learn to hold paradox—acknowledging the reality of darkness while maintaining trust in the ultimate triumph of light, recognizing human limitations while remaining open to divine possibility.
This requires what might be called “faith in faith itself”—trust in the spiritual process even when we cannot see its ultimate destination. It means continuing to love even when love appears futile, continuing to hope even when hope seems naive, continuing to seek truth even when truth appears relative.
The path forward requires both individual transformation and collective awakening. We must begin with ourselves, examining our own capacity for spiritual violence, our own tendency to weaponize sacred concepts for ego gratification, our own resistance to the radical love that genuine faith demands.
This self-examination is not self-indulgent navel-gazing but the essential foundation for authentic spiritual authority. Only those who have honestly confronted their own shadows can help others navigate theirs. Only those who have experienced genuine spiritual transformation can distinguish it from its counterfeits.
Yet individual awakening alone is insufficient. We must also work to create communities and institutions that embody these sacred principles. This means fostering spaces where difficult questions can be explored without fear, where diverse perspectives can be held in loving tension, where the sacred can be encountered in its fullness rather than reduced to ideological talking points.
The work is both urgent and eternal. Each generation faces the choice between serving the forces of division or the power of love. Each individual must decide whether to contribute to the darkness or become a beacon of light. The outcome of our current dark age depends on how many of us choose the path of authentic spiritual engagement over the seductive alternatives of religious fundamentalism and secular cynicism.
Was Charlie Kirk Truly Sanctified by God? A Critical Examination
The question of divine sanctification has echoed through centuries of theological discourse, yet few contemporary figures have sparked as much debate regarding their spiritual authenticity as Charlie Kirk. While some proclaim his divine calling, a deeper examination reveals troubling contradictions between his public persona and the fundamental teachings of love, compassion, and justice that form the bedrock of Christian doctrine. This exploration challenges us to look beyond charismatic oratory and political influence to examine whether Kirk truly embodied the sanctified spirit he claimed to represent.
The answer, upon careful consideration of his words and actions against biblical principles, suggests otherwise. Kirk’s legacy reveals a man whose powerful rhetoric masked a profound disconnection from the divine love and universal compassion that characterizes true spiritual sanctification.
Scripture provides clear guidance on the relationship between honor and righteousness. Throughout both the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament, we find consistent themes emphasizing that honor should be reserved for that which reflects divine goodness, mercy, and justice. The Psalms declare that God “does not delight in wickedness” (Psalm 5:4), while Jesus himself taught that we would recognize true prophets “by their fruits” (Matthew 7:16).
The biblical framework establishes that authentic sanctification produces fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). When we examine any figure claiming divine authority, these characteristics serve as the ultimate litmus test. To honor someone whose actions consistently contradict these divine attributes would be to honor that which stands in opposition to God’s nature.
This principle becomes particularly relevant when evaluating public figures who wrap themselves in religious language while promoting ideologies that contradict the very essence of Christian love and universal brotherhood.
Kirk’s Oratorical Gift and Spiritual Blindness
Few could dispute Kirk’s remarkable abilities as a communicator. His eloquence, commanding presence, and rhetorical skills drew massive audiences and influenced countless individuals. These talents, however, represent gifts that can be used for either divine or destructive purposes. History provides numerous examples of charismatic leaders whose persuasive powers led people away from, rather than toward, spiritual truth.
Kirk’s fundamental misunderstanding—or perhaps deliberate distortion—of Jesus’s teachings becomes apparent when examining his advocacy for systems of oppression and exclusion. Where Christ preached radical inclusion, embracing tax collectors, prostitutes, and social outcasts, Kirk promoted rigid hierarchies that elevated some while diminishing others. Where Jesus challenged the powerful and defended the marginalized, Kirk aligned himself with structures that perpetuated inequality and injustice.
The disconnect between Kirk’s oratorical gifts and his spiritual comprehension reveals a troubling pattern: the use of religious language to legitimize worldly power rather than to serve divine love. This represents not sanctification, but its opposite—the corruption of sacred gifts for secular purposes.
Perhaps most damning to any claim of divine sanctification is Kirk’s consistent promotion of ideologies fundamentally incompatible with the universal love that characterizes authentic spirituality. His advocacy for misogyny directly contradicts the biblical principle that all humans are created in God’s image (Genesis 1:27) and Paul’s revolutionary declaration that in Christ “there is neither male nor female” (Galatians 3:28).
Kirk’s embrace of racist ideologies stands in stark opposition to the biblical vision of God’s kingdom as encompassing “every tribe and language and people and nation” (Revelation 5:9). His political machinations prioritized earthly power over spiritual truth, echoing Jesus’s temptation in the wilderness when offered “all the kingdoms of the world” in exchange for worship of false authority (Matthew 4:8-9).
The promotion of patriarchal systems that diminish women’s dignity and worth represents perhaps the clearest contradiction of Jesus’s treatment of women as equals and disciples. These positions reveal not divine inspiration, but human prejudice masquerading as sacred truth.
Lifting Our Vision to True Divinity
The danger of false prophets lies not merely in their personal failings, but in their ability to distract seekers from authentic spiritual truth. When we elevate politically motivated figures who cloak their worldly ambitions in religious language, we risk losing sight of the transcendent love that represents God’s true nature.
Jesus consistently pointed beyond himself to the Father, emphasizing service, humility, and self-sacrifice as the marks of authentic discipleship. True spiritual leaders follow this pattern, directing attention toward divine truth rather than personal aggrandizement. They build bridges rather than walls, heal rather than wound, and unite rather than divide.
The One True God, as revealed through Christ’s teachings and example, calls us to love our enemies, care for the least among us, and work for justice and peace. These principles transcend political affiliations and cultural divisions, offering a vision of unity that encompasses all of humanity.
The apostle John provides perhaps the clearest measure of authentic spirituality: “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love” (1 John 4:7-8).
This litmus test of love—not rhetorical skill, political influence, or religious authority—reveals the true source of one’s inspiration. Kirk’s legacy, when measured against this standard, reveals consistent patterns of exclusion, condemnation, and division rather than the inclusive, healing love that characterizes divine presence.
The loving spirit of our universe, as manifested in the natural world’s interconnectedness and in moments of human compassion that transcend all boundaries, stands in marked contrast to ideologies that separate and diminish. True sanctification produces humility, service, and an expanding circle of care that eventually encompasses all creation.
While firmly rejecting Kirk’s teachings and influence, we must also lament any violence used to silence even misguided voices. The taking of human life represents a fundamental violation of the sacred principle that every person bears divine image, regardless of how distorted their understanding may have become.
Violence as a response to hate speech creates martyrdom where accountability should exist. It transforms flawed humans into symbols and prevents the possibility of repentance, growth, and redemption that remains available to all people while they live. The sadness we feel over such events should encompass both the victims of hate and the complexity of human beings who become trapped in destructive ideologies.
Beyond False Prophets: Embracing Authentic Spirituality
The question of Kirk’s sanctification ultimately points beyond any individual figure to deeper questions about spiritual discernment and authentic faith. How do we distinguish between genuine divine calling and the all-too-human tendency to claim God’s authority for our own purposes?
The answer lies in returning to fundamental principles of love, justice, compassion, and humility that characterize authentic spirituality across traditions. When we encounter figures who claim divine authority while promoting division, exclusion, and oppression, we can be confident that their source is not the God of love revealed in Jesus Christ.
True sanctification transforms individuals into instruments of healing, bridges of understanding, and advocates for the marginalized. It produces not political power or cultural influence, but the quiet dignity of lives lived in service to divine love and human flourishing.
As we reflect on these questions, let us commit ourselves to lifting our vision beyond the false prophets and hate mongers who parade in religious garments while serving worldly masters. The One True God calls us to higher ground—to love that transcends boundaries, justice that encompasses all people, and hope that transforms even the most broken circumstances.
Take time to reflect on your own values and the voices you choose to follow. Ask yourself: do they lead toward greater love, deeper understanding, and more inclusive community? Or do they promote division, fear, and the diminishment of others? In answering these questions honestly, we discover not only the truth about figures like Kirk, but the path toward authentic spiritual growth in our own lives.
The Journey from Suffering to Awakening
Creating higher consciousness involves more than just following a set of steps; it requires a deep, ongoing commitment to self-awareness, honesty, and transformation. Recovery is not limited to those struggling with addiction but is a pathway for anyone seeking to heal and grow.
“Be mindful, oh Mankind, of all the painful secrets that we must keep,
For, by our suffering silence, we will not awaken, but just die alone, powerless, and asleep.”
This advice reflects the essence of the 12 steps—breaking the silence, facing our truths, and striving for a higher state of being.
This practice is a wonderful methodology for developing an expanded and insight filled life narrative.
Realizing higher consciousness involves releasing attachments, transcending conditioned beliefs, and awakening to the present moment’s beauty and sacredness.
Recovery and higher consciousness are about finding your personal truth and making amends with yourself and others. It’s a lifelong process that brings profound peace, joy, and fulfillment. And it creates perfect foundations for better life narratives.
If you’re seeking to elevate your consciousness, consider exploring the 12 steps and reinterpreting them in ways that resonate with your spiritual and psychological needs. Remember, this journey is not just about overcoming addiction; it’s about achieving a higher state of being and living a life filled with purpose, love, and clarity.
It is also about presenting to yourself, and to the world, the best possible life narrative.
It is a long, happy life, for those who finally find their personal Truth.
- Whatever Happened to Truth?
- Has Modern Christianity Strayed from the Teachings of Jesus?
- What would Jesus say if He walked among us today and observed how His teachings have been interpreted and practiced?
- Would He recognize the faith He inspired, or would He find a disjointed and politicized religion far removed from its origins?
These questions force us to examine the heart of modern Christianity, a faith that, for many, no longer resembles the revolutionary teachings of Jesus of Nazareth.
The Family, a documentary that shocked many, cast a vivid light on the unsettling transformation of Christianity into a tool of political power. But its implications stretch beyond politics, prompting us to confront a deeper issue—how far we’ve wandered from the profoundly human and compassionate principles Jesus embodied. Particularly distressing is the way accountability and repentance—foundational pillars of his teachings—have been diluted into performative gestures or outright avoidance.
Christianity’s origins lie in teachings that emphasized humility, love, repentance, and personal accountability. Jesus’ call to “love your neighbor as yourself,” His prioritization of forgiveness, and the radical inclusivity of His ministry were, and remain, countercultural. Yet, these teachings often feel overshadowed today by practices that prioritize self-preservation and tribal loyalty over genuine accountability.
One critical departure is the concept of repentance. Historically, repentance in Jesus’ teachings was not a mere private act between an individual and God. It was a transformational turning point expressed outwardly through actions—making amends to those harmed, seeking reconciliation, and living differently moving forward.
Contrast this with the modern phenomenon of Christians who view repentance as only an internal matter, sealed off from worldly consequences. When harm is done, corrections are minimized, secrets are kept, and accountability is replaced with a cultural conspiracy of silence, particularly within tight-knit “tribes” of the faithful. Public repentance—when it does occur—often seems triggered not by inward conviction, but by external exposure or public shame. This dissonance leads to a troubling erosion of authenticity and integrity within faith practice.
Jeff Sharlet’s expose The Family depicts a stark reality—Christianity wielded as a political weapon rather than a spiritual practice. The film captures how some influential Christians have reinterpreted Jesus’ teachings to justify power, control, and tribal favoritism. Within this distortion, a dangerous narrative emerges: believers are chosen and therefore above accountability to their fellow humans. Sins can be hidden, excused, or left unaddressed, so long as they are justified by allegiance to the “faithful tribe.”
This selective interpretation of Christianity not only contradicts the character of Jesus but damages its public perception. For many outsiders, Christianity now appears hypocritical—an institution more concerned with protecting its insiders than embodying the universal compassion it preaches. Through its intimate look at The Family, the documentary underscores the urgency of reclaiming the spirit of personal accountability and humility that has been lost.
At its core, Jesus’ message was deeply interpersonal. Forgiveness was never meant to be an abstract transaction between a person and God, devoid of human connection. It was about repairing trust within the community. When Zacchaeus the tax collector resolved to repay those he had cheated (Luke 19), Jesus celebrated not just his resolve, but his tangible actions. This event underscores the biblical model of accountability—honest repentance coupled with real-world effort to right wrongs.
Modern Christianity’s approach to forgiveness and repentance often skips these steps. Instead of bridging gaps between individuals or confronting injustice, forgiveness is treated as a singular act of divine absolution that bypasses earthly acknowledgment of harm. This misinterpretation leans on a God that excuses behaviors rather than inspires change—a deeply harmful drift from the original ethos of the faith.
Our former brother-in-law, Michael Borg, was married twice to my wife’s sister Laretta. He claimed to be a devout and practicing Christian. During the first separation from his wife in 1996, Loretta moved up to Oregon from their Southern California home to live with us in Portland, Oregon. Mike was incensed that any family member would offer support to his estranged wife, and threatened to come up to Oregon and kill us all. Eventually there was a reconciliation between Michael and Laretta, but no reconciliation occurred with the rest of the family. I queried Michael on his beliefs in Christianity, and why he didn’t feel the need to make things right with the family that he had threatened with death. Mike stated that he was practicing “radical forgiveness” and the issue was only between him and God, and God forgave him, so we are misguided and on our own if we expect any amends from him. He advised that we all just need to “go to God and ask for forgiveness” for not forgiving Mike like God had already forgiven him. Well, as the reader might imagine, the family never welcomed Mike back into its good graces, fearing what would happen next if he ever lost his temper again. Mike did not make any effort at self-improvement and performed a spiritual bypass of Christianity’s basic tenets. Mike failed in regaining the trust of anyone and experienced the consequences for the rest of the time he was in the troubled relationship with Laretta. Mike failed to perform the hard work demanded of true Christians, much like too much of the rest of the Christian world.
The divergence between modern practices and the teachings of Jesus creates a growing hunger for authenticity among spiritual seekers. Is there a way to bridge this gap and bring Christianity closer to its original blueprint? Here are some guiding principles:
- Reclaim Repentance as Action
Repentance must move beyond whispered prayers and internal resolutions. It requires courage to face those harmed, acknowledge wrongdoing, and take active steps toward healing relationships. Churches and Christian leaders have an opportunity to model this publicly, encouraging their communities to normalize the act of making amends.
- Foster a Culture of Accountability
Accountability must no longer feel like an attack, but a sacred practice that strengthens faith and community. Christians should prioritize transparency and mutual responsibility, reflecting the example of early Christian communities described in Acts, which shared openly and cared for one another.
- Call Out Tribal Protectionism
The tribal instinct to protect “insiders” often overshadows the call to love universally. Churches must be willing to address their own failings without defensiveness, recognizing that real repentance and humility are far more aligned with the teachings of Jesus than the preservation of reputation.
- Integrate Compassion with Justice
Forgiveness and justice must coexist. To forgive does not mean to overlook or justify harm but to seek ways to reconcile compassion with accountability. This balance leads to the deeper restoration that Jesus envisioned.
- Engage in Open Dialogue
Faith communities must move away from dogma and toward meaningful conversations about faith, accountability, and human connection. Welcoming spiritual seekers, doubters, and critics into these forums can help Christianity remain dynamic, introspective, and deeply human.
The question remains—how can we restore a practice of faith that Jesus Himself would recognize as His own? The answer lies in humility and courage. It lies in admitting when we’ve strayed and taking actionable steps to realign our practices with the timeless principles of love, accountability, and compassion.
To spiritual seekers and critical thinkers, this is an invitation to join the conversation. Open dialogue about faith and accountability is not just a plea for reform within Christianity—it’s a call for us all to explore what it means to live authentically. Only when we are unafraid to question, confront, and grow can we hope to build a practice of faith that truly reflects the teachings of Jesus, a faith that heals rather than harms.
Will you engage in this dialogue? Will you seek compassion over conformity and accountability over avoidance? Reach out, share your thoughts, and help us all rediscover the humanity at the heart of faith.
And withdraw from American Christianity’s conspiracy of silence. Admit your failings to those you have harmed, and make amends for your misguided actions.
We will all experience the joy of more peaceful, truth guided, forgiving, loving lives if American Christianity finally begins to practice real, Jesus of Nazareth inspired Christianity.
I am not holding my breath.
The Contradictions of Faith and Power: Donald Trump and the Divergence from Historical Christianity
Christianity is a tapestry woven with the threads of love, humility, sacrifice, and justice. At its core, it beckons humanity toward selfless service, a concern for the marginalized, and a pursuit of truth that transcends personal ambition. And yet, amidst the shifting sands of modern political arenas, these very tenets risk being eroded—or at least conveniently overlooked—by those who align their faith with power structures that stand in stark contrast to historical Christianity. The relationship between Donald Trump and many of his Christian supporters is perhaps one of the most striking illustrations of this paradox.
“Love your neighbor as yourself.” This landmark teaching of Jesus encapsulates the essence of Christian ethics. However, in Donald Trump’s rhetoric and policies during his tenure, this ideal often seemed eclipsed by divisive language and actions. From inflammatory comments targeting immigrants to dismissive attitudes toward the vulnerable, there have been repeated moments at odds with the selflessness that historical Christian figures like St. Francis of Assisi, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, or Mother Teresa embodied.
How does one reconcile, for instance, the gospel call to care for the “least of these” with policies that separate families at borders or marginalize already disadvantaged communities? It’s tempting—and all too easy—to reinterpret scripture through the lens of nationalism or self-preservation. Yet, doing so risks diluting the radical love at the heart of Christ’s teachings.
Humility is a hallmark of the Christian walk. The story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples is the ultimate act of leadership rooted in humility and servitude. And yet, Trump, a leader often celebrated and defended by large swaths of Christian America, openly espouses a gospel of self-aggrandizement, branding his name as synonymous with success, power, and unrivaled authority.
The grandeur of gold-laden towers starkly contrasts with “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” Trump’s unabashed pride begs the question of how faith communities ought to grapple with their fidelity to a message that explicitly champions the opposite virtues—meekness, contrition, and repentance.
Those who defend Trump often point to select passages of scripture to justify their loyalty—emphasizing the Bible’s directives to respect earthly leaders or seek influence in high places. However, selective application of scripture is not a new phenomenon. Some of the darkest chapters of Christian history—from the Crusades to the defense of slavery—arose when the faith was weaponized and stripped from its full ethical context.
The gospel does not concern itself with cherry-picking that confirms biases; rather, it insists on holistic transformation. Many Christians tout alignment with specific moral issues like abortion or religious liberty as validation for their allegiance to Trump. Yet, it begs the question—should Christians trade the broader calling of justice, compassion, and humility for political wins in select battles? It’s a question the early church, unyielding to Roman imperialism and dedicated to the entirety of Christ’s message, would likely answer resoundingly.
The global perception of Christianity has not gone unscathed in America. When Christian leaders and communities link themselves so visibly to a polarizing figure like Trump, the faith risks being perceived as politically expedient rather than spiritually transformative. Among non-Christians (and indeed, even many Christians), the alignment has sown seeds of distrust.
Perhaps more troubling, globally, the image of Christianity as a beacon of universal love and justice risks eroding. Trump’s rhetoric—often laced with nationalistic overtones—is far less likely to inspire the universal brotherhood that Christianity proclaims. Instead, the alignment between political agendas and religion threatens to carve lines of division, even within the faith itself.
History has given us countless examples of Christians who courageously lived their values without compromising them for political favor. Martin Luther King Jr., guided by his unshakable belief in dignity and justice rooted in scripture, confronted uncomfortable truths while eschewing the temptation to trade moral clarity for popularity. Desmond Tutu, in the face of apartheid, stood firm not in alignment with earthly powers but in solidarity with the dispossessed.
What these figures teach us is that the credibility of Christian witness lies not in asserting dominance but in embodying the gospel—even when it costs.
For progressive Christians, sociologists, and thinkers alike, this moment provides an opportunity to reflect deeply on the intersection of faith and politics. How can Christians fully embody their historical values within the public sphere without compromising them for the sake of political expediency? How can faith communities reclaim a vision of Christianity that values servanthood over supremacy, humility over hubris, and solidarity over separateness?
To be clear, this critique is not an indictment of supporting political leaders or participating in governance. Instead, it is an invitation for Christian communities to examine their alignment critically. May the grace, justice, and profound humility that Christ exemplified guide the church’s engagement with power—not for the church’s gain, but for the sake of love, mercy, and the “least of these.”
When Christianity aligns too closely with any earthly power, it risks losing sight of its heavenly calling. It is, after all, a faith not built on thrones of gold but on a cross of wood. Never forget that Jesus was crucified because the crowd wanted Barrabus, the legendary thief and murderer to be set free. The crowd has not changed, but Barrabus has changed into Donald Trump.
The call remains the same today as it was then—to serve, not to be served; to love, not to dominate. When faith and power collide, may Christians have the courage to remain steadfast in the pursuit of love and justice, even when it means walking away from the allure of political victory.
