WARNING: In this post I talk about Nazism and abortion.
By now, if you’ve been following along on this journey, you know that I believe in the individual conviction of each follower of Jesus, based on their unique life experiences and the ministry set before them. Equally, I would never expect someone else to hold by personal beliefs, or convictions.
Disagreement is inevitable, but division doesn’t have to be. When we approach one another with an openness to listen and a commitment to love, we honor the diversity of gifts and callings God has given His people. At the end of the day, I’m less interested in whether someone agrees with me and more interested in whether our lives point others toward the grace and truth of Jesus. That, I believe, is what matters most. We don’t have to see eye to eye on every issue to walk hand in hand in faith.
But, in order to walk hand in hand… I must trust you. And trust is earned.
Three months in and so much has changed in me… and in the world. So, first… a confession: I entered into this project with a lot of desperation. If you know our family’s story, you know how we truly lived by faith for a very long season of our lives. And, yes, I would say that most of us still live our lives by that same faith… but it’s pretty battered.
In some cases… it’s all but decimated.
But, our anger isn’t really aimed at God. Our anger is towards people who claim to represent the Lord, but use their position and power to self-promote and oppress. Those who twist what is sacred into a tool for control, trading humility and service for pride and ambition. Instead of reflecting the love and justice of God, they manipulate faith as a means to divide, exclude, and consolidate their influence.
This misuse of authority isn’t new, but its consequences feel particularly pronounced in the United States today. We see it in leaders who invoke God’s name while endorsing policies and practices that harm the most vulnerable. We see it in the hypocrisy of preaching love while sowing division. And we feel it in the growing disillusionment of those who once found solace in the church, now turning away because the message of hope has been overshadowed by a hunger for power, control, and dominance.
The result is a nation grappling with profound spiritual dissonance. Many people feel disconnected from the faith traditions that once guided them, not because they doubt God’s goodness, but because they cannot reconcile that goodness with the actions of those who claim to speak for Him. It is a call to reflection, repentance, and renewal—both individually and collectively.
True faith invites us to serve, not to dominate; to build bridges, not walls; and to uplift the weary, not burden them further. In this moment, perhaps the greatest testimony to God’s love is not in grand declarations but in small, consistent acts of kindness, integrity, and justice. It is a time to reclaim the essence of faith: not as a weapon, but as a balm for a wounded world.
And this brings me to the elephant in the proverbial room: That little election we had in the US a few weeks ago. But, here’s the thing… the issue really isn’t the election. Or even who was elected. It’s what the election has unleashed. And this is where the Church must stand up. No matter how you voted, or if you even voted at all.
We’ve seen a rise in Nazi demonstrations, not just as isolated incidents but as organized, emboldened displays of hatred that echo a dark chapter of history many hoped would never repeat itself. These demonstrations thrive in an environment where fear and division are stoked, and where those in power fail to condemn—or worse, tacitly endorse—such ideologies. It’s not just troubling; it’s dangerous.
What the election has exposed is a reckoning with the values we claim to hold as a nation. It’s not just about political affiliation or party lines; it’s about the soul of a country struggling with what it means to be good, just, and humane. And this is something that has come up time and time again in my conversations on Sunday afternoons. We cannot turn a blind eye to how faith has been weaponized to harm instead of heal.
We’re also witnessing a heartbreaking surge in maternal deaths, a direct consequence of restrictive policies on reproductive healthcare. (And, yes, I said it.) Reproductive health care encompasses a wide range of medical situations, including life-threatening conditions like ectopic pregnancies, miscarriages, stillbirths and severe fetal anomalies. In these moments, abortion is not a choice of convenience—it is a medical necessity to preserve the life and health of the mother. Ignoring this reality, or legislating against it, places women in unimaginable positions, forcing them to endure preventable suffering or risk death.
Yet, some Christians have adopted a rigid stance, viewing all abortions as sinful without considering the context or complexity of each situation. (I’m also very aware that there are those who hold a hard line on this topic and, no matter the circumstances, will not budge from their position.) However, it’s important to remember that faith calls us to act with compassion, to seek understanding, and to prioritize the well-being of those in difficult and painful circumstances. This isn’t about compromising on convictions but about recognizing the full humanity of individuals, listening to their stories, and responding with empathy rather than judgment.
I also think it’s important to note that equating abortion with mere birth control fails to acknowledge the broader systemic issues that lead women to seek abortions in the first place—poverty, lack of access to healthcare, domestic violence, and limited support for mothers and children. If we are truly “pro-life,” our commitment must go beyond opposition to abortion. We must advocate for comprehensive healthcare, affordable childcare, paid parental leave, and resources that support women and families.
Jesus modeled a way of engagement that prioritized people over legalism. He didn’t shy away from difficult conversations, but He always led with love, meeting people where they were. Imagine if the Christian response to abortion reflected that same love—if we replaced condemnation with compassion and judgment with understanding. What if we truly listened to women’s stories instead of assuming we already know their motives or circumstances?
And these are just two examples of of many.
So, why is this post so “political”?
If you’ve read this far and feel like it’s political… that’s part of the problem. And, as a Church, there is absolutely no way we can ignore the infiltration of partisan politics and ideologies into the way we are, collectively, living out our faith and engaging with the world. When partisan politics and ideologies infiltrate the Church, they distort our priorities, divide our communities, and distract us from the true mission of reflecting Christ’s love. As followers of Jesus, we are called to something higher: to be salt and light in a world desperate for hope and to love without condition. This requires us to discern carefully where our allegiance lies, ensuring that our faith shapes our politics—not the other way around.
Jesus was neither a Democrat nor a Republican. He wasn’t a socialist or an authoritarian. He came to establish a way of life that transcends human political systems. He called His followers to live by a higher standard, one that defies earthly labels. As His disciples, we are invited to follow this new way, prioritizing His teachings over political ideologies and reflecting His heart in how we engage with the world around us. It moves beyond allegiance to any political party and instead calls us to reflect the values of justice, mercy, and humility in every aspect of public life.
What this moment demands of us is not a narrowing of focus to a single issue or partisan agenda but an expansion of our compassion, our advocacy, and our willingness to stand in the messy, uncomfortable places where faith meets the realities of human suffering. It requires us to resist the temptation to weaponize our convictions or to draw dividing lines that separate “us” from “them.” Instead, it calls us to live out the radical love of Jesus, who crossed every boundary to meet people in their pain and offer them hope.
The truth is, we won’t all agree on how to address these issues. Some will accuse me of not being “Christian enough”… or of compromising faith because I refuse to toe a specific ideological line. But unity in the body of Christ has never meant uniformity. It means seeking to understand one another, even when we differ. It means being committed to the ministry of reconciliation, both with God and with one another.
But, if we’re serious about walking hand in hand, as I said earlier, we must also be serious about earning trust. Trust requires honesty, humility, and a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths. It requires us to do the hard work of listening, learning, and acknowledging the ways we’ve fallen short—not just as individuals but as a collective Church.
I’m still wrestling with what it looks like to live faithfully in a world as broken and divided as ours. But here’s what I do know: our faith was never meant to be easy, and it was never meant to be a shield from the suffering of the world. If anything, it calls us deeper into it—to stand with the oppressed, to defend the vulnerable, to love the unlovable, and to be a light in the darkest places.
And this is my personal commitment in 2025. I’m still working out what it’s going to look like, but the working out of my faith is far from finished, and the call to love—truly, deeply, sacrificially—is as urgent as ever. Let us be people who answer that call.
Searching for Jesus in A̶m̶e̶r̶i̶c̶a̶ Chattanooga 