Seeing “Through a Glass Darkly:” Imagine If the Apostle James Walked Among Us

Mom and Dad kept a worn copy of In His Steps in our home—the old story about a stranger who wandered into a church and asked a question that cut straight through the polite religion of the town: “What would Jesus do?”

The stranger’s presence unsettled the congregation. He exposed their blind spots. He revealed how faith could be admired without ever being obeyed. And then he disappeared from the story, leaving the church to wrestle with the cost of actually following Christ.

Lately, I’ve wondered what might happen if such a stranger returned—not to Raymond, the fictional town in Sheldon’s book, but to one of our communities today, a place where many churches proclaim America a Christian nation and where politicians repeat the same claim from podiums and pulpits.

Imagine him arriving, tired and hopeful, an apparent refugee carrying a story of danger left behind. He doesn’t come to a church door this time. He stands in the public square, the symbolic heart of a town that calls itself Christian.

A church-going community leader steps forward.
The stranger asks, “Are you the people who follow Jesus?”
Then, a question far more revealing: “Will you welcome a stranger?”

The hesitation says everything.

Will the people of God—scattered through neighborhoods, schools, businesses, councils—require their community to do what Christ requires of them?

In that moment, the visitor no longer appears as a man seeking refuge.
He looks like a man delivering a message.

He steps forward and speaks softly: “My name is James, a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ. I wrote to the church once before. And there is something that must be said again.”

And with that, James begins to write—not to a congregation in the first century, but to us, here and now.

1 My beloved brothers and sisters, do you not know that the Lord of glory walks among the strangers at your gates? And yet you shut the door in His face and say, “We are protecting our own.”

2 You honor the wealthy and familiar, but the poor who flee hunger and violence, you turn away with cold hearts.

3 Tell me, then, have you not become judges with worldly thoughts? For you measure worth by nation, not by the Name; by citizenship, not by the image of God.

4 You say, “We must secure our borders,” and yet you have not secured your souls. For the border of mercy you have torn down, and the hedge of compassion you have burned.

5 Do you not remember what Scripture says? “You shall love the foreigner, for you were foreigners in Egypt.” But you have forgotten your own story. You honor your birthright above the command of God.

A Rebuke of Partisan Faith

6 If you keep the royal law, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” you do well. But if you treat the migrant with contempt and call it “policy,” you sin and show yourselves as lawbreakers.

7 You excuse cruelty when it is done by your own side. You name injustice “strength” when your party commits it, and you name mercy “lawlessness” when your opponents show it.

8 You have allowed rulers to bind the conscience Christ has made free. You call evil good when it is done by the powerful, and you call compassion naïve when it is done by the faithful.

9 My brothers and sisters, do not be deceived: partisanship has become your rule of life, and fear your daily discipleship.

The Test of True Religion

10 What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you proclaim yourselves pro-life and yet rejoice when migrants are torn from their children? Can such a faith save you?

11 Suppose a refugee mother stands at your border, hungry and trembling, her child in her arms. If you say to her, “Go in peace; be warm and well fed,” but you refuse her entry, shelter, and safety, what good is your faith?

12 You parade your beliefs, yet deny them with your actions. You pray in your sanctuaries while ignoring Christ crying at your gates.

13 In the same way, faith that approves cruelty is dead.

The Broken Faith of Cruel Indifference

14 You say, “We believe in God.” Good! Even the demons believe—and shudder. But you believe, and you do not shudder at injustice.

15 Was not Abraham righteous because he trusted God enough to act? Yet you refuse to act for the least of these, though Christ Himself commands it.

16 Do you not see that faith and deeds are meant to work together? But your faith and your deeds have been torn apart.

Rahab and the Refugee

17 Consider Rahab the prostitute: was she not considered righteous for welcoming strangers?

18 Yet you condemn those who welcome migrants in the name of Christ and praise those who imprison them in the name of order.

19 As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without hospitality is dead. And the church that refuses the stranger has refused her Lord.

A Final Warning and Call to Faithfulness

20 Therefore, cleanse your hands of cruelty. Tear down the altars of tribe and fear. Return to the law that gives freedom.

21 Do not call evil “policy” when it crushes the poor. Do not baptize fear and call it wisdom. Do not cloak violence in the garments of patriotism.

22 Your Judge stands at the door, seeking welcome as a refugee.

23 Blessed are those who open the door. Cursed are those who bar it shut.

24 For the King will ask, “I was a stranger—did you welcome Me?” And on that day, no party, no nation, no flag will speak for you. Only your mercy will.

25 For mercy triumphs over judgment. But judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful.

Charles Sheldon wrote In His Steps to awaken a sleepy church to the radical simplicity of following Jesus. His fictional stranger asked a single, piercing question: “What would Jesus do?”

More than a century later, the church faces a different stranger at its door—real, not fictional; vulnerable, not symbolic; carrying not a sermon manuscript but a life in need of mercy. And once again, we hesitate. We calculate. We protect. We pass by.

But James reminds us that the measure of our faith is found in the way we treat those who can offer us nothing in return.

If the Apostle James walked among us, perhaps he would not ask a new question at all.

He would ask us to live by the old one.

What would Jesus do?
And will we do likewise?

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Seeing “Through a Glass Darkly;” How Basil and Gregory of Nyssa Changed the World

Basil the Great and Gregory of Nyssa were born into privilege in fourth-century Cappadocia (modern-day Turkey). Their education was elite, and their careers promising. Both became masters of rhetoric. However, their trajectory changed when their sister, Macrina, who had dedicated her life to prayer and service, challenged them to live out the gospel with integrity.

Basil responded by abandoning his promising career and founding a monastic community that cared not just for fellow believers but for the poor, the sick, and the outcast. He established a large hospital complex, referred to by some as the “Basileias,” which provided medical care, housing, and compassion for society’s most marginalized, especially those afflicted with leprosy. Gregory responded by becoming a bishop and an eloquent defender of mercy and justice. For both men, inspired by their sister, love for the marginalized was not a social add-on. It was at the heart of their faith, and a refusal to help the marginalized was functionally a rejection of Christianity.

It’s worth repeating. For these early church fathers, giants in the Christian faith, tangible love for the marginalized was not a social add-on. It was at the heart of their Christian faith, and a refusal to help the marginalized was functionally a rejection of Christianity.

Their work stood in stark contrast to the values of Julian the Apostate, the pagan emperor who knew Basil personally and sought to resurrect Roman religious traditions while suppressing Christian influence. Julian recognized, with no small irritation, that Christian generosity was winning over the people’s hearts. “Thou hast conquered, O Galilean,” he is reported to have said in frustration, watching how Christian care for the poor, even those outside the Church, outshone pagan charity. He even instructed pagan priests to mimic Christian benevolence, but without a theology grounded in the incarnation and sacrificial love, it had little impact.

What Basil and Gregory practiced wasn’t political power or coercive activism; it was a Christ-following revolution. According to secular historian Holland in his book Dominion: How the Christian Revolution Remade the World, these brothers embodied a vision in which love for neighbor, especially the vulnerable, was essential to following Jesus. And their actions, multiplied across time and space, helped reshape societal norms of justice and compassion for centuries to come.

Where Does Power Fit in the Economy of God?

At a recent lunch with an old friend from Alaska, our conversation turned to how Christ-followers should respond to the role of power in living out our Christian callings. We spoke about the pervasive influence of power in both public and personal life. We reflected on how power is often deemed essential in achieving “righteous” ends and how it subtly shapes the values and narratives that direct our culture.

The New Testament presents a countercultural vision, constantly evaluating power in light of God’s Kingdom. Earthly power, with its coercion, domination, and self-preservation, is shown to be fleeting and often opposed to God’s purposes. True power is revealed in Christ’s weakness, suffering, and self-giving love on the cross.

Hence, spiritual power is not about control but about the Spirit’s empowerment to witness, serve, and embody the upside-down values of the Kingdom: justice, mercy, reconciliation, and love. In the inauguration of God’s Kingdom, power belongs to God, is exercised through humility and service, and is entrusted to the church not for domination but for advancing God’s redemptive reign until Christ returns.

How Basil and Gregory Redeemed Power

Basil and Gregory did not reject power. They changed its focus and used it in countercultural ways. They recognized that privilege, education, and influence were not to be weaponized for control but surrendered for the sake of His Kingdom. Rather than using their rhetorical brilliance to climb the imperial ladder, they offered it to lift the poor and forgotten. Basil transformed his administrative gifts, the very skills that could have secured him a post in the emperor’s court, into a vast network of care for the sick, the hungry, and the homeless. His “Basileias” became a living parable of the Kingdom of God, where lepers were embraced, the poor were fed, and dignity replaced hierarchy.

Gregory of Nyssa carried this transformation into theology and moral imagination. In a world that accepted slavery as a given, he denounced it as a desecration of the divine image and proclaimed that no human being could rightfully own another. He wielded words not to defend the powerful but to confront them. Not to protect privilege but to expose its idols. For both brothers, power was not something to seize or preserve; it was something to expend in love.

Lessons From These Early Church Fathers

Their lives pose essential questions for us today. In an age when many Christians equate faithfulness with influence and marry the pursuit of power with the advance of the gospel, Basil and Gregory remind us that Christ’s Kingdom comes not through coercion or legislation but through cruciform love. The true test of Christian power is not how much we can control but how deeply we can serve.

That truth invites an uncomfortable question for Christians in America today, especially those who claim a commitment to biblical values. Given Basil and Gregory’s world-changing witness through their care for the poor and the sick, what kind of witness arises from much of the modern church’s response to refugees—men, women, and children fleeing war, violence, and persecution, often seeking nothing more than safety and dignity? Some believers have responded with compassion and hospitality. Many others, with suspicion or scorn.

We’ve even seen this in our own nation, where ICE raids and deportations have not only torn families apart but often seemed designed to humiliate and intimidate. What is defended as “law enforcement” too often drifts into cruelty. And while some Christians cheer, others remain silent, unwilling to name what is plainly un-Christlike. But a faithful few have dared to say what Basil and Gregory surely would—that such harshness cannot be reconciled with the gospel of mercy.

Some might object, “But what about the legality of immigration? Shouldn’t we respect laws and national sovereignty?” That is a fair question, and one Scripture itself acknowledges in calling us to honor governing authorities. Yet the apostle John cuts through the fog of such debates with piercing clarity: “If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person?” And for those who say, “That’s not the government’s job,” would they also say that other biblical values, such as protecting the unborn, are likewise beyond the government’s concern?

In John’s theology, pity means action: tangible, costly love. To know God is to love the stranger. To be shaped by the gospel is to give, not grudgingly or fearfully, but with the same generosity that moved Basil and Gregory to turn privilege into mercy.

Their example exposes a hard truth: the early church transformed the world through sacrifice, while much of the modern church seeks to preserve it through control. What we call “influence” today would have looked to Basil and Gregory like a failure of faith.

What if

If Basil, Gregory, and Macrina of the early church clicked on our social media feeds, what might they say? Would they see the Jesus they followed reflected in how we think and speak about immigration, compassion, and justice? Or would they hear the echoes of Julian the Apostate, anxious about losing influence, suspicious of outsiders, and unmoved by the harm inflicted by those in power?

Would they find a church that takes Jesus seriously, known by its compassion and servant-like nature? Or would they find a church enamored with power that fights for cultural wins?

Would they find co-laborers in the pews, or be dismissed as “woke idealists?”

The revolution of the early church turned the world upside down through the scandal of cross-shaped love made visible in action. That revolution isn’t over. The question is whether we’re still part of it—or whether our allegiance has quietly shifted to something less.

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Seeing “Through a Glass Darkly:” Reflections on Jonah as a Mirror for the Church and Life

We often assume we know ourselves, but then a moment comes—a choice, a challenge, a crisis—that uncovers how much remains hidden. Psychologists call these our “unknown unknowns,” the parts of us that stay buried until life pulls back the curtain.

Sometimes what we discover is encouraging: untapped strengths, passions, or capacities we didn’t know we had. I experienced this in my own career when unexpected assignments brought out gifts I hadn’t recognized before. Other times, the discoveries are harder to face: blind spots, distorted beliefs, or flaws of character that call for correction or even repentance. Life has a way of holding up a mirror, revealing dimensions of ourselves we didn’t know existed, whether welcome or unwelcome. That was Jonah’s story.

Jonah’s Unknown Unknowns

Jonah was a prophet, a man who served God faithfully and was well-versed in His Word. If anyone should have said “yes” to God, it was Jonah. But then came the assignment: “Go to the great city of Nineveh and preach against it, because its wickedness has come up before me” (Jonah 1:2).

This was not just another prophetic task. Nineveh was the capital of Assyria, Israel’s enemy, known for its violence and unspeakable cruelty. To Jonah, Nineveh represented everything he feared and despised. It was unthinkable that God would give a nation like that a chance to experience His mercy. 

Tim Keller, in his book “The Prodigal Prophet,” observes that Jonah’s resistance was not mere disobedience. It was rooted in love—misplaced love: “If love for your country’s interests leads you to exploit people, or in this case to root for an entire class of people to be spiritually lost, then your love for your nation is more than God. That is idolatry by any definition.” Jonah loved his nation more than he loved God’s mercy.

Jonah identified himself first as a Hebrew and then as a worshiper of the Lord. Keller notes this reversal is telling: “Since Jonah identifies himself first ethnically then religiously, we may infer that his ethnicity is foremost in his self-identity.” In other words, Jonah’s nationalism had quietly become his truest loyalty, even more than his relationship with God.

What’s striking is that Jonah didn’t realize this about himself until God’s call forced the issue. He thought he knew his own heart, but this moment uncovered loyalties he had never examined—those “unknown unknowns” that only a crisis can reveal.

So Jonah runs in a futile attempt to escape God’s assignment and presence. His hatred could not allow for the goodness of God. His self-righteousness obscured the extent of his sin. His theology could not reconcile the nature of God—how God could be merciful to evil people and still be just and faithful. In short, Jonah’s carefully constructed worldview collapsed when it collided with the reality of who he was and who God is.

Jonah runs and runs, but God won’t let him go.  The storm at sea, the belly of the fish, the vine that withered in the sun: all of these were God’s ways of exposing Jonah’s heart. Jonah thought he was the faithful prophet, the defender of truth. But God revealed the truth: that Jonah would rather die than see his enemies receive mercy. As Keller puts it, Jonah wanted “a God of his own making, a God who simply smites bad [according to Jonah] people.”  But the true God is “an enigma” to Jonah—merciful to those Jonah despises and uncompromisingly just at the same time.

When the Church Mirrors Jonah

Jonah’s story is uncomfortably familiar. Like Jonah, many of us assume our loyalty to God is unquestioned, until God’s Word or God’s call reveals how much our loyalties are actually tied to other things: to our nation, our culture, our tribe, or our politics.

Keller warns that Jonah’s “othering” of Nineveh—reducing them to their enemy status until they were dehumanized—is the same temptation we face today. We divide people into categories: insiders and outsiders, legal and illegal, safe and dangerous. In doing so, we forget what the Reformer John Calvin observed: even those “who in themselves deserve nothing but contempt should be treated as if they were the Lord himself, because His image is upon all of them.”

We don’t always see these misplaced loyalties until a situation forces them to the surface. For Jonah, it was God’s compassion for Nineveh. For the church today, it can be policies and practices that test where our loyalties really lie.

Take, for example, the decision to cut USAID funding and to adopt policies that demean or diminish refugees. On the surface, these may seem like mere political or budgetary decisions.

But Keller reminds us: “The biblical command to lift up the poor and to defend the rights of the accused is not an option for believers—it is a moral imperative.” When Christians defend refugee debasement or shrug at the loss of humanitarian aid, we echo Jonah’s objection to God’s ways.  And just like Jonah, we risk finding ourselves at odds not with an ideology or policy, but with the heart of God himself.

Scripture is not ambiguous on this point:

  • “You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”
  • “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me…Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

Keller adds, “When Christian believers care more for their own interests and security than for the good and salvation of other races and ethnicities, they are sinning like Jonah.”

The Pull of Political Tribalism

Political tribalism rarely announces itself openly. It seeps in quietly, often under the guise of faithfulness. Like Jonah, we may sincerely believe our indignation is righteous and our convictions biblically justified when, in reality, what we are defending is not God’s kingdom but a cultural or political identity that has taken center stage in our hearts. The more entwined our identity becomes with a party, nation, or ideology, the harder it is to see where loyalty to Christ ends and loyalty to tribe begins.

Keller reminds us that Jonah “had allowed himself to become too aligned politically and emotionally with the national security interests of Israel.” That same danger faces us. When Christians align too closely with any political tribe, we risk baptizing its policies—whether compassionate or cruel—as if they bore God’s signature.

And silence is not neutrality. Keller notes, “Those Christians who try to avoid all political discussions and engagement are essentially casting a vote for the status quo… Not to be political is political.” In the 19th century, churches that stayed silent on slavery thought they were avoiding politics, but they were in fact supporting the injustice of their day.

Learning Jonah’s Lesson

The beauty of Jonah’s story is that it doesn’t end with condemnation but with invitation. God does not abandon Jonah, even when Jonah sulks outside the city, angry that Nineveh has been spared. Instead, God poses a question: “Should I not have concern for the great city of Nineveh?”

That is the question God poses to us today. Notwithstanding the policies of our nation, what is God’s perspective? Wouldn’t he have great concern for the well-being of refugees, the illegal, the poor, and the vulnerable? Then, as His Ambassadors, shouldn’t we reflect that same concern in how we speak, vote, and act?

Jonah’s lesson is that our hidden loyalties will be exposed when God’s compassion presses against them. The question is not whether we have unknown unknowns—it’s what we do when God pulls back the curtain and shows them to us. Will we, like Jonah, cling to tribal loyalties, or will we realign our hearts with God’s expansive love, even when it unsettles our politics or disrupts our preferences?

A Call to Recenter

This is not about shaming the church or winning a political argument. It is about remembering who we are and whose we are. Our truest identity is not Republican or Democrat, conservative or progressive, nationalist or globalist. Our truest identity is in Christ, who commands us to love our neighbor, welcome the stranger, and care for the least of these.

Keller writes, “Compassion for the poor is a sign of a living relationship with God and an experience of God’s grace. While it does not initiate God’s favor and acceptance, it is a sure symptom of having experienced his love.”

When we defend policies that harm the vulnerable simply because they come from “our side,” we echo Jonah more than Jesus. But when we embrace God’s mercy even when it stretches us, we embody the kingdom of God.

The curtain will always be pulled back. Our unknown unknowns will always be revealed. The question is whether, when they are, we will allow God to reshape us into people whose loyalties are aligned not with tribe or nation, but with the heart of Christ.

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Reflections “Through a Glass Darkly” – On Jesus’ Third Temptation

The wilderness is a strange place to talk about global politics, but that’s exactly where the third temptation of Jesus takes us. After forty days of fasting, after already withstanding Satan’s enticements to turn stones into bread and to leap from the temple for a dramatic rescue, Jesus faces a staggering offer:

“Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. ‘All this I will give you,’ he said, ‘if you will bow down and worship me.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Away from me, Satan! For it is written: “Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.”

The devil’s deal is deceptively simple: instant influence, cultural dominance, and the means to direct the course of nations, all without the pain of rejection or the shame of the cross. It essentially offers Jesus a shortcut to achieving “kingdom” ends without using “kingdom” means. The cost? Bowing to a counterfeit god and trusting in the machinery of worldly power rather than in God’s Kingdom plan.

The Shortcut to Power

This temptation is as alive today as it was in the wilderness. Rather than pursuing societal change through faithful discipleship and incarnational witness, as exemplified by the early church, the church is often drawn to more immediate and concrete avenues. Priorities become policy wins, election results, and public recognition. Hope becomes centered in laws passed, court decisions swayed, and cultural norms reinforced. For a church anxious about moral decline or cultural marginalization, these seem like the surest ways to “protect” the faith.

But the temptation runs deeper than politics. It is ultimately about worship. Whom do we trust to carry forward God’s kingdom plan for the world? The creator of the universe who works through transformed lives empowered by the Spirit? Or the “kings of the earth,” who rely on coercion, fear, and tribal loyalty?

Jesus knew what we too often forget: God’s ends cannot be achieved apart from God’s means. Power divorced from God’s ways inevitably corrupts God’s mission. As Reinhold Niebuhr warned, “When the church tries to wield Caesar’s sword, it often ends up with Caesar’s results.” Jesus rejects Satan’s offer not because the objectives are unworthy, but because the path to them must run through the cross.

A Pentecostal Vision

Here’s where a Pentecostal vision of humanity offers a fresh lens. This “worldview,” explored by theologians such as Amos Yong and William Oliverio, articulates a vision of human flourishing rooted in Pentecostal empowerment to love God by loving others, where every person, regardless of ethnicity, status, or nationality, bears dignity and worth as an image bearer of God.

In Yong’s words, “The Day of Pentecost outpouring of the Spirit upon all flesh is God’s prevenient gift that makes possible the flourishing of human life in all its dimensions.” This Pentecostal vision understands that true Kingdom influence flows from the Spirit’s work in transforming hearts, communities, and cultures through love, mercy, and justice. It rejects the logic of domination, whether through unholy alliances or the machinery of control. Instead, it pursues healing through an agape-shaped way of life, lived each day as a witness to God’s redemptive reign in the world.

This is profoundly countercultural in an era where the church is often tempted to view politics as the primary battleground for faith. A Pentecostal worldview insists that the Spirit’s renewal of society does not come through political pressure or institutional power, but from the ground up—through people reflecting His life and teachings: bringing wholeness to the marginalized, transformation to communities, and advancing God’s kingdom of reconciliation and justice throughout creation.

Historical Lessons

Historically, Pentecostal movements have been at their best when they’ve resisted the pull of worldly power. The early 20th-century Azusa Street Revival brought together people of different races, genders, and classes in a deeply segregated America. Not because a political decree mandated it, but because the Spirit was moving. There was no quest for political or cultural dominance. Just an unshakable conviction that God’s kingdom was breaking in through love, healing, and unity.

When Pentecostals have drifted from this Spirit-led humility toward political entanglement, they’ve risked losing the very prophetic witness that once set them apart. By aligning with the kingdoms of this world, the church ultimately betrays the very kingdom it was called to serve.

Parallels for Today

In today’s climate, the third temptation shows up in a few recognizable ways:

  • Christian Nationalism – the belief that the church’s mission is realized when the nation claims a Christian identity and mandates its values through laws, policies, and cultural norms.
  • Partisan Loyalty Above Prophetic Witness – aligning so closely with one political party that the church becomes an extension of its platform, excusing moral failures for the sake of “winning.”
  • Influence Through Fear – using apocalyptic rhetoric to scare people into political action, rather than inspiring them through the hope and beauty of the gospel; framing opponents as enemies to be defeated rather than neighbors to be loved.

Each of these mirrors Satan’s offer: “Take the kingdoms now—skip the long road of discipleship and Spirit-led influence. Bow to the idol of expediency, and you can have influence overnight.”

Jesus’ response shows us the alternative: reject the shortcut, embrace the primacy of loving God and neighbor, especially when our neighbor is the outcast, foreigner, or marginalized, and trust the Spirit to accomplish what politics cannot or should not.

The Power of Faithful Presence

We must remember that Christians are called to be ‘deeply, faithfully present’—to serve across cultures, not coerce them. By practicing ‘subversive fulfillment’, we can both subvert distorted values and fulfill culture’s longing, guided not by the power of the state but by the power of the Spirit.

This isn’t sticking our heads in the sand or adopting a strategy of withdrawal from the public square. It’s active engagement—prophetically, compassionately, and without compromise to Christ’s way of the cross. It means advocating for justice, truth, and the common good, but refusing to sacrifice identity and integrity for influence.

Here, Miroslav Volf’s insight is striking: “The way Christians work toward human flourishing is not by imposing on others their vision of human flourishing and the common good but by bearing witness to Christ, who embodies the good life.” This is not a retreat from public life but a reorientation toward cruciform service instead of coercive combat.

Why This Matters Now

We live in a moment where fear drives many to clutch at power, convinced that the church’s survival depends on “winning” the culture wars. However, the third temptation reminds us that the church’s future doesn’t rest in political victories, but in faithfulness to Jesus’ kingdom way.

A Pentecostal vision reframes influence as something we exercise through Spirit-filled living, not political dominance. It invites us to see the image of God in every person and to trust that the Spirit’s power works most profoundly, not through coercion, but through Christ’s Sermon on the Mount way of living. 

As we stand on our own high mountaintop moments—seeing the allure of quick fixes and instant power—we must remember that Jesus did not reject the kingdoms of the world because he was indifferent to justice or goodness. He rejected them because they were counterfeit versions of the Kingdom he came to bring. And that is still the choice before us: the narrow way of faithfulness, or the wide road of expedience.

The church must recover the courage to say “Away from me, Satan” when offered influence on terms that contradict Christ’s life and teachings. Because the church’s greatness will never be measured by its share of worldly power, but by its likeness to Christ. The way of the cross may look like a loss in the world’s eyes, but it is the only way that leads to life and life everlasting.

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95 Theses For the 2026 American Church

Every 500 years, the church has undergone a seismic shift—a paradigm shift that redefined its identity and witness. I believe we’re at such a moment again. In the spirit of Luther, I’m proposing a new set of 95 theses to confront today’s syncretized faith with a renewed call to follow Jesus wholeheartedly and embody His likeness in a divided world.

  1. When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said, “Follow Me,” he willed the entire life of believers to be an imitator of his life and teachings.
  2. Imitators of Christ become “Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us.”
  3. Imitators of Christ become those whose attitudes and actions “proclaim the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light; who once were not a people but are now the people of God.”
  4. Imitators of Christ become “His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”
  5. Imitators of Christ become those who let their lives “so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”
  6. When the church chooses power over the ways of Christ, it becomes a compromised church, undermining its moral integrity, distorting its mission, and forfeiting its gospel witness.
  7. They’ve exchanged Christ-like virtue for political expediency by the use of un-Christlike rhetoric and tactics.
  8. They’ve exchanged Kingdom values for political goals by aligning with those whose actions betray Christ’s ways.
  9. They’ve elevated the priority of political victories over their core mission to make disciples.
  10. Their fixation on winning has bound them to political ideologies, corrupting their heart, values, and desires.
  11. They have exchanged the way of the cross for the crown, seeking authority over faithful obedience.
  12. When the church integrates political values with Christ’s Kingdom goals, it becomes a corrupted church, mirroring the very systems it was sent to redeem.
  13. It shifts its focus from relying on spiritual transformation to relying on political solutions.
  14. It adopts unrighteous tactics in the pursuit of success, forsaking trust in God’s provision and sovereignty.
  15. It abandons the way of Christ’s humility and love, embracing strategies of dominance and control.
  16. It compromises truth, prioritizing the advancement of cultural narratives over gospel integrity.
  17. When the church trades Christ’s kingdom character for worldly strategies, it becomes a carnal church that reflects the works of the flesh rather than the way of Christ.
  18. It sacrifices the 9th commandment on the altar of a win-at-all-costs mindset.
  19. It excuses unrighteous allies and co-laborers, betraying its call to holiness and integrity.
  20. Its morality becomes conditional, justifying expediency instead of a consistent gospel witness.
  21. It loses its prophetic voice when it replaces kingdom ethics with utilitarian reasoning, valuing influence over faithfulness and outcomes over obedience.
  22. It loses its righteous moorings through its worldly tactics and unholy alliances—echoing the days when “everyone did what was right in his own eyes.”
  23. When the church allows a factional perspective, it becomes a divisive church, trading its ministry of Christlike reconciliation for tribal loyalties that foster enmity.
  24. It has adopted an “us versus them” posture, contrary to Christ’s call to love our enemies.
  25. It has become an emissary of partisan allegiance rather than an ambassador of reconciliation.
  26. It has hidden behind a ‘what about’ posture, deflecting accountability for its actions—and those of its allies—by pointing fingers and fueling division.
  27. It has echoed populist rhetoric that fuels fear and resentment, contrary to Christ’s call to hospitality.
  28. It has spiritualized grievance and cultural anxiety, framing political enemies as moral threats rather than people made in the image of God.
  29. When the church prioritizes the culture war, it becomes a callous church, forsaking the compassion of Christ for the unbiblical fruits of ideological combat.
  30. It leads to selective morality—minimizing its own sins while targeting the sins of others.
  31. It leads to selective gospel priorities, elevating partisan and secondary concerns over the core of the gospel.
  32. It leads to selected empathy, rather than being a welcoming refuge of healing for all.
  33. It leads to selective hospitality towards those who differ in race, background, or orientation.
  34. It yields a distorted gospel marked by a deviation from the example of Christ, the whole counsel of scripture, and the practices of the early church.
  35. When a church forgets where its true citizenship lies, it becomes a lost church, forsaking its calling to be salt and light.
  36. They have forgotten that our citizenship is in heaven, not earthly nations or power.
  37. They have forgotten the sufficiency of Christ, that “we have all things that pertain to life and Godliness through the knowledge of Him.”
  38. They have forsaken trust in God’s power and provision, leaning instead on political leverage and human strength.
  39. They have traded the transforming power of the Spirit for the illusion of coercive control.
  40. Christians must return to the foundational principles of the Christian faith through an unwavering commitment to follow the life and teachings of Jesus Christ.
  41. The church must prioritize being His Ambassador, through re-presenting his life and teachings.
  42. The church must prioritize its salt and light mission of influencing the world through a Christ-like witness.
  43. The church must prioritize Christlikeness in all of its actions, even if it means not “winning” the battle.
  44. The church must prioritize Jesus’ call to love our neighbors and care for the least among us.
  45. The church must bear witness to the inaugurated Kingdom of God by cultivating justice, mercy, and human flourishing—signposts of the world to come—even as we await its full consummation.
  46. The church must prioritize its ultimate allegiance to Christ, not to any political entity or leader.
  47. The church must remember that its ultimate goal is to glorify God and reflect His love to the world.
  48. Christians are to be taught that “Follow Me” cannot be understood as a one-time verbal confession.
  49. Christ’s “Follow Me” means that we continually heed the teachings of the apostle James, who said, “Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror.”
  50. Christ’s “Follow Me” means that we continually “Renounce ungodliness and worldly passions” as we “Train ourselves for godliness,” living “self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age.”
  51. Christians are to be taught that “Follow Me” starts with “let him deny himself and take up his cross.”
  52. Denying ourselves means to “throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.”
  53. It means “being crucified with Christ. [so that] It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”
  54. It means to “offer yourself as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God” as our “true and proper worship.”
  55. It means to “not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind.”
  56. It means to set our “mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth. For you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God.”
  57. Christians are to be taught that “Follow Me” requires that we abide in Him, “our hope of glory, “For in him we live, and move, and have our being.”
  58. “Remain in me, as I also remain in you… apart from me you can do nothing.”
  59. “Just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him.”
  60. “God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.”
  61. Christians are to be taught that “Follow Me” means relying upon the power of the Spirit.
  62. “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”
  63. “His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness.”
  64. Christians are to be taught that “Follow Me” yields a life wholly given to worship and devotion to God.
  65. It means we wear the marks of love and unity, as instructed by the apostle John.
  66. It means we “do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”
  67. It means we do “nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves [looking out] to the interests of others.
  68. It means we “live by the Spirit” as proven by the fruit of the Spirit, which is “love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”
  69. It means we live “as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothed with compassion, kindness, humility.”
  70. It means loving our enemies, helping the poor, clothing the naked, binding up the wounded, and blessing those who curse us.
  71. Christians are to be taught that “Follow Me” means staying alert to the culture’s subversive pull on our beliefs, values, priorities, and practices.
  72. It means refusing to fuse faith with national identity, partisan ideologies, or the values of the culture.
  73. It means rejecting the commercialization of faith and the lure of worldly passions, power, and privilege.
  74. It means refusing to excuse corruption, moral failure, abuse of power, or lack of accountability.
  75. It means resisting people, media, and systems that feed fear, division, and the works of the flesh.
  76. It means rejecting dehumanizing ideologies—like populism’s us-versus-them mindset or cultural attitudes that marginalize people of different races, cultures, or beliefs.
  77. It means resisting the culture’s pull toward self-indulgence, where lust, greed, and pride are normalized and even celebrated.
  78. It means guarding against political entanglements that change our identity and seduce us with seemingly noble aims.
  79. Christians are to be taught that “Follow Me” means that “whenever you see a brother or sister hungry or cold, whatever you do to the least of these, so you do to Me.”
  80. The church must recover its prophetic voice, challenging injustices while advocating for the vulnerable.
  81. The church must be willing to love mercy, do justly, and walk humbly without borders or conditions.
  82. The church must remember that in Christ, there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female.
  83. The church must remember that love for others is authenticated when it defies boundaries of tribe, nation, class, citizenship status, or race and reflects the mercy of the Samaritan.
  84. Christians are to be taught that “Follow Me” requires us to have a discerning spirit.
  85. A discerning spirit shuns overconfidence, heeding the admonition to be “alert and of sober mind. Your enemy, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour.”
  86. A discerning spirit exercises discernment, knowing “I am allowed to do anything”— but not everything is beneficial.”
  87. A discerning spirit is grounded in humility: “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known.”
  88. A discerning spirit is shaped by wisdom rooted in evidence, so that we “will no longer be immature like children, tossed and blown about by every wind of new teaching and no longer influenced when people try to trick us with lies so clever they sound like the truth.”
  89. A discerning spirit understands innate human fallibility, mindful that “people will no longer listen to sound and wholesome teaching. They will follow their desires and will look for teachers who will tell them whatever their itching ears want to hear.”
  90. A discerning spirit follows “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”
  91. A discerning spirit knows that “No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will be loyal to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.”
  92. Christians are to be taught that “Follow Me” has, as its goal, to make us progressively Christ-like in attitudes and actions.
  93. Christlikeness imitates the servant heart of Christ, who “did not come to be served, but to serve.”
  94. Christlikeness is merciful, poor in spirit, meek, able to mourn, a peacemaker, pure in heart, hungers and thirsts after justice, and willing to suffer persecution for justice’s sake.
  95. Christlikeness stems from those who, with “unveiled faces [as they] contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.”

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No Kings: When Conservative Values Demand Protest

Someone on Facebook posted this week, “Excuse me… but… the idiocy of the far left with their No King demonstrations… there could be no demonstrations if a King truly was in power… just saying’…”

One of his Facebook friends then chimed in, “It was fun to watch some of them get ran over who had zero common sense! 🤣🤣🤣 Thump thump as they get ran over. Stand in front of a moving vehicle because you don’t even have a high school education to understand death is coming lol”

Let’s set aside, for a moment, the mockery and cruelty in those comments and address the “far left” label. Contrary to the caricature, many protesters weren’t radicals. I was there, along with several center-right friends. Until recently, I had been a Republican for 50 years. But conservative values we once upheld—the rule of law and centrality of moral character have grown increasingly absent in today’s Republican Party. This is no time for silence from those who remember what conservatism once stood for.

That’s why the “No Kings” demonstrations matter. They aren’t fringe outbursts or partisan theater. For many, it is a broad, principled response by patriotic Americans from across the political spectrum who are deeply concerned about the erosion of democratic institutions and the rule of law. These protests are not rooted in rebellion, but in respect for the constitutional order—and in the belief that no leader is above the law.

To appreciate the seriousness of this moment, it’s worth revisiting the founding words of our nation. Many of the grievances in the Declaration of Independence—abuses of power, assaults on justice, and the undermining of representative government—were inspired by years of colonial protest, much of it nonviolent, against the overreach of King George III. What follows is a side-by-side comparison of those original complaints and the troublingly similar patterns that many like me see emerging in our time.

1. Stripping Away Constitutional Rights and Legal Protections

Declaration Grievance: “For depriving us in many cases of the benefits of Trial by Jury…”
Trump’s administration has taken numerous actions that violate fundamental rights guaranteed by the Constitution, most notably due process, habeas corpus, and the right to a fair trial. This is a big deal – it strikes at the core of constitutional liberty and alone provides ample justification for the “No Kings” protests. It has been on this issue that the courts have repeatedly pushed back, issuing some of their strongest rebukes.

  • Systematically ignored the constitutional guarantee of habeas corpus (Article I, Section 9), especially in immigration and protester detentions.
  • Repeatedly violated the Constitution’s Fifth and Sixth Amendments by detaining individuals, including immigrants and student visa holders, without due process, formal charges, or timely access to legal proceedings. And then deporting individuals without meaningful judicial review.
  • To “justify” his actions, Trump invoked sweeping emergency powers, including the Alien Enemies Act, applying them to unexceptional events, without producing evidence of any legitimate emergency, thereby expanding executive authority beyond its constitutional limits.

2. Centralizing Power and Bypassing Congressional Authority

Declaration Grievance: “He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.”
Just as the King dismissed the authority of colonial legislatures, Trump has repeatedly challenged laws passed by Congress through the novel creation of new executive authority, particularly those related to federal spending.

  • Systematically challenged Article I, Section 9 of the Constitution by unilaterally canceling or defunding programs without legislative approval, bypassing Congress’s constitutional role.
  • Systematically challenged the Impoundment Control Act and Antideficiency Act by withholding or redirecting appropriated funds without congressional authorization.
  • Challenged Article I, Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution by imposing tariffs and negotiating trade actions without proper legislative consent, usurping Congress’s constitutional role in trade policy.

3. Undermining Judicial Authority

Declaration Grievance: “He has obstructed the Administration of Justice…”
Like King George III, Trump has worked to undermine the rule of law and judicial independence whenever rulings conflict with his agenda. These actions strike at the heart of one of the three pillars of American democracy: judicial review, established in Marbury v. Madison (1803). This landmark case affirmed that it is the role of the courts—not the executive—to interpret the law. Undermining the authority and independence of the judiciary threatens the constitutional balance of powers on which our republic rests.

  • Challenged the democratic pillar of judicial review, asserting that no judge “should be allowed” to rule against the changes his administration is making and that “He who saves his Country does not violate any Law.”
  • Refused to comply with multiple federal court rulings, particularly regarding immigration enforcement and executive overreach.
  • Publicly attacked judges, calling them “enemies of the people” or “biased,” especially when they ruled against him.
  • Fired Inspectors General and oversight officials to obstruct accountability and suppress investigations.

4. Challenging State Authority Over Elections

Declaration Grievance: “He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.”
Trump’s attempt to centralize election control echoes the King’s suppression of local representation and autonomy.

  • Launched an effort to challenge Article I, Section 4 of the Constitution by creating a federal “Election Oversight Commission” with powers to intervene in state-run elections.
  • Pressured states to adopt federally dictated standards for voter ID, ballot access, and vote counting.
  • Threatened to withhold funding and launched DOJ investigations against states that refused to comply with these unconstitutional directives.

4. Using Power to Punish Critics

Declaration Grievance: “He has erected a multitude of New Offices… to harass our people, and eat out their substance.”
Just as the King used bureaucratic machinery to suppress dissent, Trump has weaponized government institutions against political rivals, critics, and the press.

  • Launched investigations and enacted Executive Orders against political opponents and former DOJ officials tied to his prior prosecutions. Courts have quickly and summarily ruled against those EOs.
  • Targeted whistleblowers, protest organizers, and journalists, using federal scrutiny and intimidation.
  • Retaliated against opposing law firms by encouraging regulatory pressure and financial probes.
  • Punished media outlets like the Associated Press for independent reporting, including efforts to revoke access or apply regulatory threats.

5. Elevating Personal Loyalty Over Constitutional Duty

Declaration Grievance: “He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone…”
In the spirit of monarchs who demanded loyalty above law, Trump has replaced fidelity to the Constitution with personal allegiance.

  • Demanded loyalty to him rather than to their oaths for cabinet members, DOJ officials, and military leaders.
  • Labeled critics—including judges, generals, and journalists—as traitors or enemies.

6. Profiting from Public Office

Declaration Grievance: “He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.”
The Emoluments Clauses were included to address the historical abuses of power and personal enrichment by British monarchs through patronage and favoritism, ensuring that public officials, particularly the President, would be loyal only to the American people and not swayed by financial incentives. In direct defiance of this principle, Trump has repeatedly blurred the line between public service and private gain, turning the presidency into a platform for personal profit.

  • Promoted government patronage of Trump-branded properties and foreign officials’ spending at his establishments. This likely violates the Foreign and Domestic Emoluments Clauses (Article I, Sec. 9; Article II, Sec. 1), although these actions have yet to be tested in court.
  • Removed or weakened internal ethics rules and financial oversight mechanisms to avoid accountability, including lifting restrictions meant to prevent self-dealing and conflicts of interest.
  • Promoted Trump-branded ventures—including real estate projects and even a Trump-themed cryptocurrency—while in office, leveraging presidential influence to expand personal wealth and global branding opportunities.

But…

Whatabout “fill in the blank?” Unfortunately, the divisive virus of whataboutism runs rampant across the political landscape today, leading to unquestioning tribal justification through moral evasion and a refusal to accept accountability. It’s not worth responding to.

“This must be fake news—I’ve never heard any of this.” In a fragmented media landscape, many live in tightly sealed information silos that offer constant reinforcement of their existing views. Others, shaped by a populist distrust of institutions, dismiss anything reported by mainstream outlets as inherently suspect.

Here’s a potential solution. Follow the court rulings, as the courts are one of the last independent institutions in our country. Even better, read the rulings yourself, as public assertions often get stripped away under judicial scrutiny. As of mid-June, while the Trump administration has won some cases, the majority of rulings have not gone in its favor.

You’re making a mountain out of a molehill: many of these are criminals and non-citizens, hence it’s not that big of a deal to suspend their constitutionally protected liberties.  For those living in such a us-versus-them world, it may seem that way until a friend, employee, or family member is impacted.  I’m reminded of prominent German pastor Martin Niemöller’s famous quote, “First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist…Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.” 

You’ve mischaracterized his actions, as Trump is merely testing the boundaries in a legitimate effort to reshape the country.  On the face of it, that might sound reasonable. Leaders often push the limits of their authority to advance change. However, what sets this apart is the rhetoric of dominance, the marshalling of governmental power to punish critics and personal adversaries, a currently selective but deepening disregard for the rule of law, the inventing of executive authority to justify such actions, and the sustained pattern of undermining constitutional checks and balances. A true reformer works within the framework of the system. Trump repeatedly signals that he intends to bend or even break that system to serve personal or political aims.

Here’s an example. When someone explained what the Fifth Amendment said, Trump chafed at its requirements, saying, I don’t know. It seems — it might say that, but if you’re talking about that, then we’d have to have a million or 2 million or 3 million trials.” “We have thousands of people that are — some murderers and some drug dealers and some of the worst people on Earth.” “I was elected to get them the hell out of here, and the courts are holding me from doing it.”

Final Thoughts

Throughout history, kings have ruled by silencing dissent, punishing critics, demanding personal loyalty over law, and using public office for personal gain. Our founders rejected that model. Today, the same temptations return in modern form—through executive overreach, attacks on the judiciary and political opponents, the erosion of the rule of law – especially due process and habeas corpus, the use of government for personal gain, and a growing contempt for oversight and accountability.

Maybe I’m wrong – and you’re welcome to tell me so – but in my centrist, conservative judgment, “No Kings” isn’t a leftist slogan, and it isn’t an overreaction. It is a patriotic response to an emerging pattern of authoritarian behavior wrapped in partisan rhetoric.

No Kings!

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Reflections Through a Glass Darkly – It’s a Matter of Perspective

It’s a familiar refrain—on talk shows, in churches, across dinner tables. The world is falling apart. Darkness seems to be gaining ground. Things will only get worse until Jesus returns. Over time, that message quietly shapes how we see the world, filtering our perspective through a lens of decline.

But hear me out: what if that view doesn’t fully align with the data, or with the mission Jesus entrusted to us?

What if the world isn’t truly getting worse, but is in fact getting better, at least in many of its dimensions? And what if that’s not a sign of secular progress, but of the Kingdom of God quietly growing, healing, and reshaping the world through His people?

Yes, the world is full of rising threats such as authoritarianism, moral confusion, and fragmented, polarized communities. These should not be dismissed. But they are not unprecedented. History shows that even in times of moral chaos or social fracture, Christian virtues have often advanced, propelled by the faithful witness of gospel-shaped people.

As historian Tom Holland observes, Christianity has long subverted authoritarian power and reshaped moral assumptions by exalting humility, compassion, and the equal worth of every person. And the broader arc of history affirms this: though setbacks remain, we’ve seen a decline in violence, a rise in rights, and growing movements of justice and reconciliation. That’s not mere progress—it’s the fruit of Kingdom values permeating the world.

I believe it’s worth reconsidering the narrative of decline, not by dismissing the concerns behind it, but by offering a hopeful realism rooted in the vision of Christ’s Kingdom.

The Kingdom Has Come—and Is Still Coming

When Jesus began His ministry, His message wasn’t “Escape this place.” It was: “The Kingdom of God is at hand.”

In other words, Jesus wasn’t just saving souls—He was launching a new reality: a community of people who would live under His reign, embody His character, and work for the renewal of all things. His miracles healed bodies. His words restored dignity. His actions formed a counterculture of grace, justice, and mercy. And we are His “Ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us.”

Pastor Tim Keller put it like this: “Christians are called to be radically committed to the good of the city as a whole. While awaiting the return of the King, we become part of God’s work of reconciliation, which is a state of the fullest flourishing in every dimension—physical, emotional, social, and spiritual.”

The World Isn’t Getting Worse—By Most Measures, It’s Getting Better

Now, let’s be clear: sin still exists. Injustice still happens. Creation still groans. But if you step back from the 24/7 news cycle and look at the long arc of history, you’ll see a world that, in many ways, is being transformed. Here’s the reality according to the data.

Poverty is declining. In 1800, approximately 85% of the world’s population lived in extreme poverty. Today? Less than 9%. That’s not an accident; it’s the result of education, trade, clean water, and countless small-scale acts of compassion and ingenuity, often led by people of faith.

Fewer children are dying. In 1800, around 44% of all children died before age five. In 1950, it had dropped to 25%. Today, it’s under 4%. That’s over 100 million lives saved in the last few decades.

Literacy and education are spreading. Global literacy rates are above 85%, up from 10% in 1800. 

Life expectancy has soared. From an average of 52 years in 1960 to over 73 years today, people are living longer, healthier lives—even in poorer countries. Many diseases have been eradicated while immunization rates of 1-year-olds have topped 88%.

Violence is down. Despite what headlines suggest, war deaths per capita are dramatically lower than in previous centuries. Public executions, slavery, and legalized torture have almost vanished from the globe.

These are not utopian talking points. They are facts. And they should shape the way we see God’s work in the world. Can I hear an Amen?

But to Some, “It Doesn’t Feel That Way”

Of course, global trends can feel meaningless when your community tells a different story. If you’re surrounded by gun violence, economic injustice, or social decay, it’s entirely understandable to feel like the world is unraveling. That perspective is real, but is the whole story?

As Miles’ Law reminds us, “where you stand depends on where you sit.” Our view of the world is influenced by social location, personal experience, and media exposure. Add to that cognitive tendencies like WYSIATI—“what you see is all there is”—and we’re prone to draw sweeping conclusions from what’s immediate in experience or emotionally charged, without accounting for the bigger picture.

Therefore, seeing decline everywhere is not necessarily a sign of discernment. Not until we’ve examined our limitations, broadened our perspective, and tested the narratives we’ve come to accept.

Moral Change Is Often Christian Change

But isn’t morality declining? Isn’t culture more confused than ever?

To answer that, we have to ask: Compared to when?

The Roman Empire in which Jesus lived was a moral nightmare by today’s standards. Infanticide was common. Slavery was the foundation of the economy. Sexual abuse—especially of slaves and children—was normalized. Mercy was weakness. Power was a god.

Yet the early church effectively counteracted this. Not through force or political power, but by becoming, in the words of theologian N.T. Wright, “image-bearing, God-loving, Christ-shaped, Spirit-filled Christians” who are “planting flags in hostile soil, setting up signposts that say there is a different way to be human.”

Historian Tom Holland powerfully argues that nearly every modern moral instinct we cherish—human rights, compassion, dignity, equality—flows directly from the impact of Jesus’ life and teaching. Even secular people live in a moral world shaped by Christ, whether they realize it or not.

“The notion that every human being has equal dignity,” Holland writes, “is not remotely a self-evident truth. It is the product of a specific civilization rooted in a specific theology: that all are made in the image of God.”

In his landmark book Dominion, Holland—a secular historian—admits that he once admired the might and glory of ancient Rome, only to become disillusioned by its cruelty. It was not the empire, but the cross, that ultimately shaped the conscience of the West. As he puts it: “To live in a Western country is to live in a society still utterly saturated by Christian concepts and assumptions.”

This doesn’t mean the world is perfect. It doesn’t mean that Christianity, as historically practiced, has been without its failures. In fact, the failures of Christianity have been, at times, horrendous, especially when it’s been aligned with state power.  If that statement challenges you, look up the papal bulls underpinning the Doctrine of Discovery.

However, it does mean that whenever the moral vision of Jesus—humility over pride, love over domination, and service over conquest—has been genuinely embraced by His followers, it has often led to personal transformation which, over time, has shaped cultures and communities in ways that reflect His renewing work in the world.

We no longer expose unwanted infants. We no longer entertain ourselves with crucifixions. And despite recent setbacks, there has been a steady and growing commitment among many across the years to care for the poor, defend the weak, and welcome the outsider. Not because we’re “modern,” but because the Kingdom of Jesus has quietly and persistently reshaped the conscience of the world.

How About 2 Timothy 3:1-4, Which Some Interpret to Say That Things Will Get Worse in the Last Days?

You’ll often hear that the world is getting worse and won’t improve until Jesus returns. Pastor John MacArthur says, “The Bible teaches that the world is going to get worse and worse, not better and better. We are not headed toward a global revival but toward global rebellion.”

But what if the driving force behind this belief isn’t just theological, but also due to our human nature?

Our minds constantly employ cognitive biases that shape our perception of reality. Recency bias causes us to overweight recent events; negativity bias magnifies what is alarming or distressing; and motivated reasoning ensures that we interpret new information in ways that confirm what we already believe. Together, these tendencies create a mental framework that is primed to affirm cultural and moral decline, even in the presence of progress or complexity.

For those who embrace end-time narratives predicting worsening conditions before Christ’s return, such cognitive biases often reinforce that view, framing everyday events as evidence and using passages like 2 Timothy 3:1-4 as proof texts. But multiple evangelical theologians such as N.T. Wright, a leading authority on the Apostle Paul, challenges this interpretation. He argues that Paul’s reference to the “last days” does not depict an accelerating spiral into chaos just before the end, but instead describes the entire period between Jesus’ resurrection and His return.

Wright reads Paul’s warning as a call to spiritual vigilance. The behaviors Paul lists—selfishness, greed, and pride—are not new signs of the end-times collapse, but rather persistent human failings that reappear in every generation. Rather than predicting inevitable ruin, Paul is urging believers to resist these patterns and embody the alternative: a life shaped by Christ’s teachings and example.

In Wright’s words, “The kingdom of God is not just something we await; it is something breaking in, transforming lives and systems even now. Christ’s reign is already at work, renewing the world.”

Our Role: Agents of the Kingdom

End-times fatalism says: “The world’s getting worse and won’t get better, so our job isn’t primarily to help transform it, but to preach salvation and await Christ’s return.”

The Kingdom narrative says: “The King has come. He is at work. Join Him in renewing all things.”

The emerging Christian nationalist narrative seeks to advance God’s Kingdom by seizing political control and aligning faith with state power. It trades the servant-hearted way of Jesus for coercion, dominance, and cultural conquest. This narrative is not only historically unfaithful to the witness of the early church, which flourished under oppression rather than seeking power—it’s also deeply misaligned with the heart of Christ, who said, “My Kingdom is not of this world.”

When Christians build hospitals, mentor young people, seek justice, love their enemies, welcome the foreigner, and foster peace, they are not just doing “good deeds.” They are doing Kingdom work—the slow, faithful, sacrificial kind that transforms hearts, communities, and cultures from the inside out.

Even if you think my analysis is wrong, can we agree on the following? Let’s agree not to be those who fatalistically lament decline. Let’s not be those who seek to dominate through political coercion. Instead, let’s agree to heed Pastor Keller’s admonition to roll up our sleeves and work for reconciliation, human flourishing, and healing in every sphere: spiritual, physical, emotional, and social.

A Kingdom of God Perspective

Imagine an ekklesia that proclaims a Kingdom narrative—not one of fear, fatalism, or domination, but one of hope, renewal, and Christ-centered engagement. Imagine sermons that acknowledged the world’s brokenness yet also cast a vision of the possibilities when God’s people live out His teaching and life example in every sphere of society.

What if Christians were known for a hope-filled posture, embodying Jesus’ way through healing, reconciliation, justice, and sacrificial love? Because here’s the truth: the world still needs redemption—but Jesus already launched that rescue.

His Kingdom is advancing. Evil persists, but it does not prevail. The world is still broken—but it is also being mended. So let’s build. Heal. Preach. Serve. Live as citizens of His in-breaking Kingdom—bearing witness in word, deed, and posture until the King returns to make all things new.

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Wisdom of My Father: Re-centering Our Faith by Majoring on the Majors

My dad had a knack for delivering wisdom in short, memorable sayings. When a job looked too big or overwhelming, he’d simply say, “Nothing to it but to do it.” When moving something heavy, like his ancient table saw, he’d grin and say, “If you pull hard, it comes easy.” When it came to matters of faith, he would simply say: “Don’t major on the minors or minor on the majors.”

Now, this last phrase was an evolving concept in my youth.  In the 60s, while just kids, the “majors” (beyond soteriology) meant a faithfulness to holiness living. We were people “set apart” from the world, always vigilant for the sin “crouching at the door.” In the 70s, unity became a top-tier value, as our parents reached out across the denominational aisle. This produced yet another one of Dad’s venerable phrases, “in essentials, unity; in doubtful matters, liberty; in all things, charity.”

But the question still lingers, especially in today’s polarized culture. What are the true “majors” of the Christian faith, and how should they shape our values in the public square? And how do we discern “majors” from “minors” when so many voices claim to speak for “biblical values”?

Today, American Christianity spans a wide and often divided spectrum. Some believe the “majors” include preserving a Christian national identity, blending faith with the belief that America holds a divine purpose. Others believe the “majors” lie in resisting cultural decline, rallying behind political “fighters” who will uphold their vision of Christian values in the public square. Still others center the “majors” on the teachings and life of Christ, prioritizing His compassion, love, and self-giving service.

Each of these expressions reflects distinct concerns and worldviews. But more significantly, they reveal fundamental differences in how Christians define and prioritize their faith. In many cases, the divide is not merely about values, but about divergent visions of how the gospel shapes public witness, ethical priorities, and faithful engagement in the world.

Hence, we may all use the exact phrase—“biblical values”—but we mean entirely different things. So, how do we cut through the noise? How do we avoid confusing “our values” with “God’s values”? And how do we ensure we’re not minoring on majors—getting hung up on peripheral issues while neglecting the heart of the gospel?

Those are the questions my dad’s old phrase still pushes us to confront. Because if we don’t get the majors right, we risk losing the main plot, which is to be “Christ’s Ambassadors, as if God were making His appeal through us.”

The answer begins with returning to first principles—those teachings that Jesus and the prophets elevated above all else.

First Order Principle #1: The Triad of Micah 6:8 – Justice, Mercy, Humility

In Micah 6:8, the prophet distills the essence of Old Testament law: “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.”

This passage condenses 613 Old Testament laws into three critical dimensions: justice, mercy, and humility. Like the color receptors in our eyes that decode visible light into three primary colors, justice, mercy, and humility provide the lens through which we can assess our faith and ethics. Omitting or diminishing any of the three leads to a deficiency in biblical values – a type of moral blindness – just like the diminishment of one of the color-sensing receptors in our eyes leads to colorblindness. 

Each command forces a heart check:

  • Justice isn’t just an idea to admire—it’s an action.  To wit: are we acting justly toward those whom Scripture consistently urges us to defend—the marginalized, the poor, and the voiceless?”
  • Mercy isn’t about random acts of kindness—it’s a posture of kindness, of costly compassion.
  • Humility isn’t mere modesty—it’s a complete surrender of ego, pride, and certainty of opinion.

Humility may be the most elusive virtue because it requires deep self-awareness. I’m reminded of the famous video “gorilla experiment,” where participants, told to intently count basketball passes, completely miss a man in a gorilla suit walking through the scene. In much the same way, we can become so focused on being right that we fail to notice the gorilla in the room: how culture, tribe, or ideology quietly shape our beliefs and values without our even realizing it.

This blindness doesn’t just affect what we see—it affects how we believe. Hence, when we claim to stand for “biblical values” without humility, we risk turning the gospel into a mirror of ourselves, reinforcing culturally driven narratives rather than reflecting Christ. We’d do well to heed the words of Augustine, who said, “If you should ask me what are the ways of God, I would tell you the first is humility, the second is humility, and the third is humility.

First Order Principle #2: Love of God and Neighbor

When asked to name the greatest commandment, Jesus gave a two-part answer: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind… and love your neighbor as yourself.” Then He added, “All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

In one sentence, Jesus reduced the complexity of Scripture to a double command of love. Not a sentimental love, but a sacrificial, life-reordering, others-centered love that reflects our relationship with God. These aren’t two separate commands. They are interlocked. As 1 John reminds us, “Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar.”

This love is authenticated when it extends beyond our tribe. When asked, “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus told the parable of the Good Samaritan. He made it clear that our “neighbor” includes the outsider, the other, the one we’re least inclined to care about.

So any claim to uphold “biblical values” that does not simultaneously elevate the dignity of our neighbors, especially those who differ from us politically, racially, nationally, or culturally, falls short of Jesus’ command. In scripture, worship without justice is not worship; piety without such “other-centric” love is not Christian.

These two commandments form the goalposts of our lives. A true biblical worldview must run between them.

First Order Principle #3: The Anchoring Example of Christ

Years ago, while building a house, I installed additional steel hold-downs into the concrete foundation the day before the drywall went up. Each one, anchored with epoxy, could withstand 28,000 pounds of force. When the Alaskan winds came howling the following day and in the years to come, I slept well. I knew the foundation would hold.

In the same way, every part of our Christian life must be anchored in the person of Jesus, not in cultural assumptions, nor even in doctrinal correctness or in “Christian tradition” divorced from Christ’s example.

We must return to the old question: What Would Jesus Do? Not as a slogan, but as a radical, soul-searching test of whether our values and actions align with His kingdom.

And here’s the challenge: Jesus was countercultural, often defying expectations. He eschewed political power as His Kingdom was not of this world.  His priority of love led him to heal on the Sabbath, confront the religious elite, and elevate the outcast. He broke purity laws to touch lepers. He extended mercy to women shamed by scandal. He praised the faith and actions of the religiously impure. Our task then, using the language of NT Wright, is to be “image-bearing, God-loving, Christ-shaped, Spirit-filled Christians” who are “planting flags in hostile soil, setting up signposts that say there is a different way to be human.”

So, like constitutional law, where strict scrutiny, the highest standard of constitutional review, requires the law to be narrowly tailored to meet a compelling state interest, let’s apply the highest standard possible to our values. If they don’t look like Jesus—if they don’t carry the tone of grace, the humility of service, the courage of compassion, the priority of people, and the unbounded love—they fail the test.

First Order Principle #4: The Witness of the Fruit of the Spirit

Over lunch one day, Tammy asked a friend, an experienced theologian, why the “Christ in us” is often invisible to the world. It’s a fair question. If we’re called to be image-bearers of God, why does the church sometimes look nothing like Christ?

Jesus answered this in the parable of the sower. Many seeds don’t produce fruit. Some are stolen. Some lack roots. Others are choked out by competing desires—consumerism, political idolatry, or the seductive lie of Christian nationalism which turns the “good soil” of the gospel into the idolatry of “guns, god, and country.”.

But some land on good soil. And when they do, Jesus said, they produce fruit—thirty, sixty, even a hundredfold.

Paul later defines this fruit in Galatians 5: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

This is the “major” outcome Christ is looking for—not church attendance, political alignment, or even theological precision, but inward transformation that produces an outwardly visible people of God, marked above all by the fruit of the Spirit. Lives that radiate the beauty of God’s Spirit. People who embody the “language” of Christ and thereby reflect His nature.

As Jesus said, “By this is my Father glorified, that you bear much fruit, and so prove to be my disciples” (John 15:8).

The Call to Recenter

When Christians shout about “biblical values” but neglect love of neighbor, especially when that neighbor is the “other,” show little concern for spiritual fruit, fail to prioritize humility, justice, and mercy, and fail to “strictly” follow the example of Christ, they’ve abandoned the true “majors” of our faith. It’s not that the other issues are valueless, but they are secondary concerns that must bow before these first-order priorities.

This distortion is clearly seen in culture war Christianity—a version of faith that majors on issues never prioritized in Scripture, exchanges the power of the cross for the power of the state, and measures spiritual fidelity by political allegiance rather than devotion to the true “majors” of the faith. In weaponizing a form of the gospel for ideological battles, it denies the gospel’s power to transform hearts and heal communities.

It’s also clearly seen when public policies become divorced from gospel verities. The commands to welcome the stranger, care for the sojourner, and show hospitality are not fringe concerns but central expressions of God’s justice and mercy.  When Christians subordinate such commands to the priorities of their political party or national identity, they reveal a disregard for the majors of the faith. When Christians welcome or even tolerate the demonizing of refugees, it puts them in opposition to the heart of God. 

Such majoring on minors and minoring on majors yields a version of Christianity that looks nothing like Jesus. But when we major on the majors, and let the minors be minor, we become a people known, not for what we oppose or for our indifference to the marginalized, but for whom we follow.

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A Story of Compasses

It’s a strange thing to get lost while using a compass. But it happens all the time. Perhaps we don’t trust what the compass is telling us. It’s needle points in a direction that just feels wrong. Or it’s because we never really learned how to use it. We think we’re following it correctly, but a small misunderstanding, such as a failure to adjust for declination, sends us steadily off course. And sometimes the terrain itself confuses us. The map doesn’t seem to match the land, and the compass, though still true, directs us to a place that we think we shouldn’t go.

But then there are times when the compass itself fails. Perhaps the compass is near metal objects, electronics, or magnets, or becomes damaged.  Or maybe the compass is working, but the magnetic field on which the compass relies has changed.

In 1845, Sir John Franklin led two Royal Navy ships — HMS Erebus and HMS Terror — into the Arctic in search of the fabled Northwest Passage. These ships were fitted with the best navigational technology of their time: magnetic compasses, sextants, and chronometers. The crew had faith in their tools, their maps, and their mission. But there was a problem no one truly understood until it was too late: the closer they sailed to the magnetic North Pole, the more their compasses faltered.

At high latitudes, the horizontal component of Earth’s magnetic field weakens, causing compass needles to behave erratically. Instead of pointing north, they spin, dip, and freeze — pulled by iron on the ship or distracted by local anomalies in the Earth’s field. To the crew, it would have seemed like their direction was sound. But their instruments were wrong, not from design, but from magnetic distortion.

Eventually, the ships became locked in unyielding ice. The men, still trusting their tools and their assumptions, perished one by one. Starvation. Exposure. And then silence.

The Ongoing Process of Change

It’s worth pausing now and then to examine the internal compasses guiding our lives. Most of us assume we’re headed in the right direction—and if we’re honest, we’re usually confident about our ability to navigate.

But have we checked to see if we’re on the right path?  Have we accounted for forces subtly shifting our direction? Like a compass altered by nearby interference, what if our moral bearings have been quietly altered by fear, pride, ideology, tribal allegiances, or unexamined assumptions, often without our awareness?

I readily admit to past errors. Over the last 15 years, I’ve examined and corrected many missteps in my thinking. Some have been based on false beliefs, others revealed only after questioning long-held assumptions. Richard Feynman said it well: “The first principle is that you must not fool yourself—and you are the easiest person to fool.”  Here are ten of the key principles I’ve learned.

Things that break our compasses

Hubris instead of humility – Tammy and I regularly ask, “What if we’re wrong?” Given our past track record, we fully expect future missteps and welcome the chance to correct them. Ongoing change is at the heart of the Christian life, anchored in the promise that “He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ.” When we stop questioning our path, we’ll never know if our compass is broken.

A diet of outrage – A steady diet of outrage through news and social media invariably infects and distorts our perspective. By creating a sense of apocalyptic urgency, it becomes easy, like in the television series 24, to justify nearly any action for the so-called greater good, even if it means abandoning the very virtues we claim to uphold. So, when virtue becomes conditional, when dehumanization becomes a tactic, when cruelty is seen as strength, and when faith is armed for battle because “this election is just too important,” our compass is broken.

An epistemology of ignorance – Our missteps often stem less from ignorance than from a willful refusal to see. For example, in the recent closure of USAID programs, many relied on sources reporting on a few controversial grants and avoided those reporting on the humanitarian toll, including lives lost, as vital food and health aid failed to reach vulnerable communities. Such selective news exposure—often subconscious and rooted in the human desire to avoid perspectives that challenge our narratives—distorts our moral compass.

Proof-texting Scripture – One of the most subtle and dangerous ways our compass can drift is by cherry-picking Scripture to support our preexisting views. Rather than letting the whole counsel of God’s Word shape us, we hunt for verses that reinforce our biases. When Scripture becomes a tool to win arguments instead of a mirror to examine our hearts, we’ve exchanged its authority for our own.  

Power overriding mercy, humility, and justice – Scripture consistently emphasizes a triad of virtues: mercy, humility, and justice. But when the pursuit of power—whether political, institutional, or personal—takes center stage, it changes the essential nature of our faith. It suffocates compassion, erodes love, and bends the truth. As Micah 6:8 reminds us, God doesn’t call us to be right, rule, or retaliate. He calls us to be faithful to the life and teachings of Christ. Otherwise, we’re navigating with broken compasses.

Winning overriding spiritual fruit – In our polarized age, many Christians have come to value winning, whether in politics, debate, or culture wars, rather than prioritizing the fruit of the Spirit. As a result, love, joy, patience, peace, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control are often treated as weaknesses, secondary to “winning the culture” or “fighting against secular evil.” But if our tactics contradict the very character of Christ, we’ve lost the battle before it begins. A compass directed toward conquest is broken.  It’s not the way of Jesus.

Political allegiance overriding Christlikeness – We live in a polarizing age where, according to multiple studies, politics is now a first cause for people’s beliefs. People of faith are not exempt. We evaluate issues based on political criteria and then baptize them as biblical truth. We excuse behaviors in our tribe (and ourselves) that we condemn elsewhere. In the words of Haidt, we become “blind and bound,” loyal to our in-group as we demonize the out-group. When our identity is no longer solely hidden in Him, we lose the plot, and our compass breaks.

Whataboutism instead of moral integrity – When confronted with wrongdoing, it’s tempting to deflect by pointing to someone else and saying, “What about them?” It’s a way to shift the spotlight, excuse hypocrisy, or avoid accountability. But scripture calls us to examine our hearts first: “Why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own?” Whataboutism distorts our moral compass by replacing integrity with tribal loyalty, making us value our tribe’s success over being faithful to Christ’s character.

My-sideism mindset – During the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln was purportedly asked if God was on his side.  Lincoln responded, “Sir, my concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God’s side, for God is always right.” We are all fallen people who, at best, “see through a glass darkly.” When we arrogate “our side” into “God’s side, the compass of Christ followers becomes broken.

Form without faithfulness – Scripture is clear: worship without justice is not worship; piety without “other-centric” love is not Christian. Hear the prophet Amos: “Away with the noise of your songs! I will not listen to the music of your harps. But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!” When we prioritize public displays of religiosity—polished prayers, worship events, or Christian branding—while remaining indifferent to things that matter to God, such as mercy, justice, and love of neighbor, our compass is broken. Faithfulness isn’t measured by performance but by how closely our words and actions reflect God’s heart.

Case Study #1

Jake Meador, editor of the evangelical journal Mere Orthodoxy, recently reflected on the disorienting shifts within evangelical Christianity. A tradition that once urged Americans to choose leaders who demonstrated “consistent honesty, moral purity, and the highest character” has now charted a different course. Even past faith-supported victories—like the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR)—have been abandoned or attacked.

While some evangelical voices have lamented PEPFAR’s rollback, others, including Franklin Graham of Samaritan’s Purse and James Dobson, founder of Focus on the Family, have stood by it. Dobson, a long-time critic of the program, claimed in 2006 that “80 percent of this money is going toward terrible programs that are immoral as well as ineffective.” There is no indication that either Graham or Dobson has revised their stance, despite mounting evidence of the human toll.

And that toll is staggering. Dr. Brooke Nichols, an infectious disease modeler at Boston University, has developed ensemble models—blending outputs from multiple independently validated projections—to assess the consequences of the Trump administration’s PEPFAR reductions. As of May 14, 2025, her team estimates at least 48,102 additional adult deaths and 5,120 child deaths are tied to the funding cut.

For those committed to the teachings of Jesus, condemning this outcome should be unequivocal. Jesus’ words in Matthew 19:14 are clear: “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them.” So is His standard in Matthew 25:40: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these… you did for me.”

When political loyalty overrides biblical imperatives, when vulnerable people made in the image of God are collateral damage in partisan battles, when our silence drowns out the biblical call for mercy and justice, hasn’t your compass lost its way?

Case Study #2

On April 13, 2025, Trump released a Presidential Easter message affirming the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, calling Him “our Lord and Savior” who “freed us from sin and unlocked the gates of Heaven.” A week later, on Easter morning, he posted: “Happy Easter to all, including the Radical Left Lunatics who are fighting and scheming so hard to bring Murderers, Drug Lords, Dangerous Prisoners, the Mentally Insane, and well-known MS-13 Gang Members and Wife Beaters, back into our Country.”

Asked about the post, Jackson Lahmeyer—founder of Pastors for Trump—responded not with caution, but endorsement: “Isn’t it terrible that they are wanting to do that? You cannot unify with evil.” For Lahmeyer, Trump remains a spiritual champion—someone who has “moved the needle for the Christian agenda, unlike anyone else, especially in modern times.”

But the facts tell another story. According to Pew Research, about 83% of undocumented immigrants in the U.S. are Christian, primarily Catholic and Evangelical. These individuals commit crimes at significantly lower rates than native-born citizens. They are, by and large, our spiritual siblings—hardworking, faith-based people fleeing violence and poverty.

Scripture is not silent here. Over 50 times, God commands His people to love the foreigner, welcome the stranger, and seek justice for the oppressed. Sodom and Gomorrah’s sins, according to the prophet Ezekiel, included their pride, overindulgence, and indifference to the poor and needy. Demonizing and dealing harshly with immigrants is not a biblical stance—it’s a rejection of God’s heart.

Immigration is complex. Border security matters. But when fear and outrage replace mercy and justice, when contempt for fellow image-bearers is cloaked in Christian license, when lies are baptized as truth, and when partisanship overrides the biblical call to love our neighbor, hasn’t your compass lost its way?

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On Budget Cutting, Excellence, and Leadership: i.e., DOGE

People first, mission always!  Those four value-laden words defined our leadership approach during my last position within NOAA Fisheries. Our leadership team saw the old motto of mission first, people always as insufficient. Too often, it led to leaders treating people as an afterthought in pursuit of the mission. A shift in emphasis was needed as we were servant leaders who loved our people as we pursued the mission. 

Our VALUES Leadership Model became a gold standard within the agency. Leaders visited our center to observe our management firsthand. Some leaders invited us to speak to their staff. Students in leadership development programs sought our insights. Yet, nothing about our model was particularly groundbreaking—we simply emphasized excellence through virtue, and made them the first principles throughout our science enterprise.

For me, people first, mission always wasn’t just a management strategy; it was a reflection of my calling. One of the most striking aspects of Jesus’ ministry was how He prioritized people. Religious laws had their place, but Jesus made clear that they were meant to serve people—not the other way around. When religious leaders condemned Him for healing on the Sabbath, He responded, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath” (Mark 2:27). When a crowd gathered to stone a woman caught in adultery, He challenged them to examine their own hearts first (John 8:1-11).

Whether it was stopping to heal the blind, feeding the hungry, or washing the feet of His disciples, time and time again, Jesus demonstrated that true Christ-centered leadership always prioritizes people—because in the kingdom of God, it’s people first, mission always

Cutting Costs

Yet, the road of values-based leadership wasn’t always easy. As labor costs rose while budgets remained flat or declined, we had to reduce our 410-person workforce by over 20%. This included the difficult decision to close high-performing research programs, ensuring that resources were directed toward the highest mission priorities. To navigate these changes, we relied on a priority-based resourcing process that balanced fiscal responsibility with fairness and strategic focus.

We did this empathetically, emphasizing listening, compassion, generosity, and transparency, engaging in extensive discussions to balance mission priorities with staff concerns. Although the actions were difficult and had an impact on staff, we successfully achieved the necessary reductions while maintaining mission success and preserving overall staff trust. People first, mission always.

A Different Approach: DOGE Cost Cutting Strategy

The Trump Administration’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) was created to streamline federal operations. While fiscal responsibility is essential, DOGE’s approach has raised serious concerns:

Legally and Constitutionally Questionable Actions

  • Courts have ruled that the Trump administration’s firings of 25,000 probationary federal workers were likely illegal and ordered them reinstated pending further litigation. [Personal Note: if you aim to reduce nonperforming people to streamline operations with reduced cost, your new probationary hires are the last people you cut.  They will likely be the lowest-cost but most productive part of your workforce.]
  • Courts have blocked some DOGE actions, ruling that the President cannot impound funds Congress has appropriated. To wit: if Congress says ‘spend this,’ then the President is constitutionally obliged to ensure that the laws are ‘faithfully executed.” [Personal Note: When Congress said jump – and their members and/or staffers would often visit us – we said, “how high” as we were mindful of the Impoundment Act and the Anti-deficiency Act which required us to execute the congressional directives in accordance with their intent.]

Reckless and Unwise Actions

  • DOGE falsely claimed to cut $50 million in “condoms for Hamas,” which was actually contraceptive aid for Mozambique.
  • Closing Social Security offices forces rural Alaskans to travel long distances at great personal expense.
  • Edward Coristine, a 19-year-old DOGE staffer known as “Big Balls,” was given access to sensitive government systems, including Social Security, IRS, and Treasury data despite his past involvement with a cybercrime group where he provided technical support for data theft and cyberstalking.
  • Firing Inspector Generals – the very officials responsible for reducing waste, fraud, and abuse. [Personal Note: I met with Inspector Generals or their staff multiple times throughout my career. They carried out their mission with diligence, and we valued their recommendations, which led to meaningful improvements in organizational excellence.]

Erroneous Accounting of Savings (The Tale of the Tape on DOGE’s “Wall of Receipts”) – The list of errors in DOGE claims is long, suggesting that they either don’t understand the actions they are taking or the nature of the government service they are impacting, and/or they are just being sloppy. 

  • A canceled contract DOGE claimed saved $8 billion was only worth $8 million.
  • DOGE triple-counted a $655 million contract, inflating savings to $1.8 billion.
  • Of the 2,334 “terminated contracts” on its “Wall of Receipts,” 40% had already been fulfilled, resulting in no savings.
  • Savings are often calculated from contract ceilings rather than actual expenditures.
  • One of DOGE’s largest savings was achieved by “canceling” a $1.9 billion contract already canceled under the Biden administration.

Lack of Transparency – DOGE has operated with “unusual secrecy” and “rapid pace,” according to federal judges. Shielded by a Trump-created exemption from public disclosure rules, DOGE has been minimally transparent despite its claims of “maximum transparency.” The lack of independent verification casts doubt upon the veracity and integrity of their claims.

[Personal Note: Transparency is critical to accountability. It was one of the most effective tools for reducing agency budgets while maintaining trust.]

Employee Abuse – DOGE’s “Rip and Replace” strategy—effective in some tech firms—is reckless and abusive when imposed unlawfully and without warning on federal employees who were not hired under that understanding.

  • Elon Musk’s illegitimate demand that federal employees report their weekly work via email or be fired—later made “voluntary”—was abusive and coercive.
  • A friend’s husband and son both work for the National Park Service and were falsely told they would lose retirement benefits if they didn’t retire immediately.  Such manipulation is abusive.

How Should We Then Live?

This question, famously posed by Francis Schaeffer nearly 45 years ago, remains just as relevant today.   

Many assume DOGE’s efforts are necessary and beneficial. For the sake of the nation, I hope this process yields some good. However, significant concerns remain, and its true impact will only become known if the courts are successful in ensuring that DOGE’s actions are independently verifiable.

But the question still remains, even if we give DOGE the benefit of the doubt: How Should Citizens of Christ’s Kingdom Respond to This Issue?

  • Prioritize People – Kingdom-minded people value actions that respect and serve all people – both those who carry out the policies and those affected by them. Ruthless cost-cutting without regard for people is incompatible with Kingdom ethics. Remember: we don’t own our witness, Jesus does.
  • Take Jesus Seriously – The Beatitudes call for empathy and concern, not celebrating harm done to others. When Jesus said, “Blessed are they that mourn, he was establishing a posture of empathy and concern. His Golden Rule is not “hope that others experience the bad stuff I’ve experienced.”
  • Choose Godliness Over Tribal Loyalty – People bear God’s image. Those who applaud the dehumanizing of others or dismiss livelihood concerns as “fear porn” should reconsider where their loyalty lies.
  • Examine Your Fruit – Are our words, actions, and beliefs about this issue laden with the fruit of the Spirit, i.e., kindness, goodness, and gentleness?
  • Are You a Friend or Enemy of God? – Remember that in the Kingdom of God, loving our neighbor is inseparable from loving God. This love is revealed in how we treat those who are different from us—especially those so different that it requires overcoming feelings of disdain to serve them with genuine, sacrificial care.

Final Thoughts

Government efficiency should balance cost-cutting with ethical, people-honoring leadership. DOGE’s approach prioritizes aggressive reductions with little regard for transparency, legal constraints, or human impact. In contrast, the VALUES model is founded on the inherent dignity of people and prioritizes ethical processes, virtuous leaders, care of others, and excellence in mission.

If you think this is just pie in the sky and not applicable to the “real world” of business, rest assured, we are not alone.  The notion of “loving” your employees is a core value of the CEO of Southwest Airlines.  The CEO of Snapchat believes creativity, smarts, and kindness are the three essential ingredients to successful employees, with the greatest of these being kindness. 

How Should We Then Live?  For Citizens of His Kingdom, the answer is found in 2 Corinthians 5:20. “We are Christ’s Ambassadors, as if God is making his appeal through us.”

Citizens of His Kingdom can be supportive of DOGE’s basic goals.  But isn’t the applauding of its methods, though, incompatible with their ambassadorial calling?  We are Jesus people, “in whom we live and move and have our being.” If Jesus put people first—teaching that even the sacred Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath—shouldn’t we do the same? And given my experience in government, you don’t need to choose.  You can honor people, like Christ did, and still reduce the workforce.

People first, mission always isn’t just possible. It’s the way of Christ.

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