Tag: bible

Week 39: The Body of Christ Online

by Searching For Jesus in America

Who: Me, Myself, and I

Church: Red Bank and The Point Church

Lunch: Our Airbnb in Pikesville, Tennessee

Topic: Is “online church” an oxymoron?

Online churches surged in popularity during the pandemic. As in-person gatherings were restricted, many congregations transitioned to virtual services to maintain community and worship. As restrictions eased, in-person attendance began to rebound and by May 2023, 26% of U.S. adults attended religious services in person, while virtual attendance decreased to 5%.  This indicates a preference among many for the traditional, communal aspects of worship.*

While two-thirds of those who regularly attend virtually report being “extremely” or “very” satisfied with online services, only 28% feel a strong connection to fellow worshipers.* This underscores the tension many people experience and the frustration many others express:

What is the purpose of the Sunday morning service?

I think most of us will agree that church isn’t about a building; it’s about a community of people committed to following Jesus. I will go a step further and say that the gathering of the church is about creating space to be shaped—together—by worship, teaching, service, and authentic relationships. It’s where we’re reminded of who God is, who we are, and what it means to live out the way of Jesus in a world that often pushes against it. In theory, it’s not just about consuming content or checking a spiritual box—it’s about showing up for one another, being transformed in community, and carrying that transformation into our everyday lives.

There are a lot of strings I could pull here, and maybe I will pull on more of them over the next three months. (Today’s post means I’m 75% through this little experiment.) But, for now, I want to focus on the tension points:

  • Incarnation vs. Information: Jesus came in the flesh, so some argue that church should reflect that physical, embodied reality.
  • Accessibility vs. Accountability: Online formats increase access (for the sick, disabled, isolated), but can decrease spiritual accountability and depth of connection.
  • Community vs. Consumption: Are we participating in the life of a church, or consuming content like a podcast?

Incarnation vs. Information: Why Embodied Community Still Matters

At the heart of Christianity is the Incarnation— Jesus came in person, in the flesh, and dwelt among us. His ministry wasn’t abstract or theoretical—it was deeply personal, physical, and rooted in human experience. He touched the sick, shared meals with strangers, wept with friends, and walked miles alongside his disciples. That embodied presence was central to how he revealed God’s love.

So when we talk about what church is meant to be, many argue that it should reflect that same incarnational reality—not just transferring information about Jesus, but modeling his way of being with people.

This doesn’t mean digital resources, online sermons, or Zoom small groups are inherently bad or unspiritual. They can serve powerful purposes—especially for people who are homebound, marginalized, or living in spiritual deserts. But if we reduce church to just information we consume—one-way teaching, disembodied worship, a curated online experience—we risk missing something vital: presence. The awkward, beautiful, sometimes inconvenient realness of being with other people in a room. In an age of endless content and screens, maybe the most countercultural, Christlike thing we can do is to show up. Physically. Consistently. Incarnationally.

Accessibility vs. Accountability in Online Church

One of the greatest strengths of online church is accessibility. For people who are homebound due to illness, disability, caregiving responsibilities, or social anxiety, digital services offer a lifeline—an invitation to stay connected to a faith community when showing up in person simply isn’t possible. It can also serve as a bridge for those exploring faith or recovering from spiritual trauma, providing a lower-barrier entry point into communal worship. In this sense, online church reflects a deep compassion, extending the reach of the gospel in ways that were once unimaginable.

But with that accessibility comes a potential trade-off: accountability.

Church isn’t just about watching a sermon. At its core, it’s about being formed in community—practicing forgiveness, sharing burdens, and being sharpened through real relationships. These are hard to replicate when your primary connection to the body of Christ is a screen and a live chat.

I also think it’s important to note that attending an in-person “church” doesn’t inherently equate to these things. There’s a strong argument to be made this also doesn’t exist in many traditional church settings either.

Regardless, when church becomes something we consume rather than a community we participate in, spiritual depth can suffer. There’s no one to ask the hard questions, to notice when you’re drifting, or to challenge you when your life doesn’t reflect your faith. It becomes easier to hide, to disengage, or to simply watch passively without engaging in transformation.

So while online church meets a real need—and absolutely has a place in our modern expressions of faith—we must ask how we’re reinforcing connection and accountability in those digital spaces. Accessibility and accountability aren’t enemies, but holding both in tension is essential for a church that both reaches people and roots them.

Community vs. Consumption: Is Church Something We Join or Just Something We Watch?

We live in a culture built on consumption. Streaming platforms serve us curated content 24/7. Podcasts, audiobooks, newsletters, and even spiritual resources are on demand—tailored to our preferences, available at our convenience, and consumable in isolation. So it’s no surprise that this mentality has crept into how we approach church.

When we reduce church to something we watch—a sermon on YouTube, a worship set on Instagram, a Bible verse in our feed—we risk turning something meant to be participatory and communal into something passive and individualistic.

We consume rather than commune. We observe rather than engage.

But the church was never meant to function like a podcast or a weekly broadcast. It’s not a spiritual TED Talk. To participate in the life of a church means to show up and be known—to offer your gifts, your presence, your voice, your story. It means being a part of something that shapes you, even when it’s uncomfortable or costly.

So the real question isn’t “Did I enjoy that sermon?” or “Did the music move me?” The question is: Am I being formed by community, or just entertained by content?

Church was never meant to be consumed. It was always meant to be lived.

And the hard truth is very simple, attending an in-person service on Sunday mornings doesn’t mean we’re living it either. We can sit in a pew, sing the songs, nod along to a sermon—and still remain disconnected, guarded, unchanged.

Living as the church means engaging with others beyond the sanctuary walls. It means pursuing relationships that sharpen us, serving in ways that stretch us, and choosing presence even when it’s inconvenient. It means asking hard questions, embracing accountability, and walking with people through joy and grief—not just for an hour on Sunday, but in the everyday.

So yes, online church has its limitations. But so does in-person attendance when we treat it like just another task to check off.

Church is not a product we consume or a building we visit.
It’s a people we belong to, a mission we step into, and a way of life we embody—together.

Week 38: The Religious Elite Will Hate You

by Searching For Jesus in America

Who: Hope

Church: Resurrection Church

Lunch: Potluck at the church

Topic: Being Present and Being Persecuted

This has been a pretty wild week for me—but not in the typical, overbooked-calendar kind of way. It’s more about life nudging me in unexpected directions, like threads being pulled together for a reason I don’t fully understand yet.

There’s not a whole lot of “normal” in my life… whatever that even means. But, this past week I found myself face-to-face with reminders of why I do what I do. Conversations I didn’t expect. Opportunities I didn’t seek. People who, in big and small ways, made me stop and say, “Okay, God. I see what you’re doing.” It’s been humbling, a little exhausting, and oddly energizing all at once. So if I seem a little more reflective, that’s why.

Things are shifting—and I’m trying to pay attention.

This week, I attended Resurrection Church in downtown Chattanooga with my new friend Hope. She’s such a great example of someone trying to be fully present in her life, embracing the ups and down. Hope is a beautiful example of someone learning to live inside the messiness, embracing both the joy and the struggle with a kind of honesty that’s rare.

What stands out to me about Hope is how she’s not just adapting to life—she’s actively choosing to engage with it. Whether it’s wrestling with hard questions, grieving something deeply, or laughing until she cries over something simple, she shows up fully. Watching someone walk through life that way—open, vulnerable, and grounded—is a beautiful reminder of the kind of person Christ calls us to be.

Attending church with her this week didn’t just feel like checking off a box or doing something “spiritual.” It felt like a reminder: faith isn’t about performance, and presence isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up—wherever we are, however we’re feeling—and trusting that God is there, too.

And it needs to be said that the community at Resurrection Church was, by far, the most welcoming I’ve experienced to date. So many people introduced themselves and took the time to not only say hello, but engage in more than a one minute conversation. This should be the normative behavior in every faith community—but sadly, it isn’t.

Too often, churches become places of polite greetings and surface-level interactions, where visitors can walk in and out without ever feeling truly seen. But this place was different. People weren’t just friendly—they asked thoughtful questions, remembered my name (not an easy task), and genuinely wanted to connect. It wasn’t performative hospitality; it was intentional community.

And honestly, that kind of warmth and openness makes a lasting impression. It breaks down walls and reminds people that they belong, even if they’re still figuring things out. We don’t need perfection in our churches—we need people who show up with open hearts, willing to make space for others. Resurrection Church lived that out on Sunday, and I’m still thinking about what it means to carry that same spirit into the spaces I lead.

But, I also want to spend some time talking about the sermon, because I think it’s important, especially now. Their pastor spent some time talking about persecution and the expectation we SHOULD have when it comes to being persecuted for our faith in Jesus. The church often misunderstands persecution—framing it as something inflicted by the “world,” when in truth, much of the resistance and harm comes from within the religious system itself.

When we look at the life of Jesus, it wasn’t the Roman government that plotted his death. It was the religious elite. The Pharisees and teachers of the law—the gatekeepers of moral authority—felt threatened by his challenge to their power, his inclusion of the marginalized, and his insistence on mercy over sacrifice. Jesus wasn’t killed for being “too worldly.” He was executed for disrupting religious systems that had become more about control than compassion.

And today, history repeats itself.

Many modern Christians equate pushback on Christian nationalism or calls for accountability in the church as “persecution.” But critique isn’t persecution—it’s often the prophetic voice trying to call the church back to the way of Jesus. When people raise questions about power, exclusion, or injustice in Christian spaces, they’re not enemies of the church—they’re trying to heal it.

True persecution happens when people lose jobs, homes, or lives because of their faith in Jesus. What often gets labeled as persecution in the West is actually discomfort in the face of necessary change. And instead of listening, many churches double down—silencing dissenters, ostracizing doubters, and branding reformers as rebels.

There’s a fascinating—and necessary—tension that exists when you encounter a church that is radically welcoming and yet courageously honest from the pulpit. It almost catches you off guard. One minute, you’re being embraced by a community that remembers your name, looks you in the eye, and asks how you’re really doing. The next, you’re listening to a sermon that doesn’t shy away from uncomfortable truths—about power, justice, repentance, or the state of the church itself.

At first, it can feel like whiplash. How can a space be so warm and yet so convicting? So safe and yet so unwilling to coddle?

But that tension? That’s the sweet spot. That’s the line all churches need to be walking right now.

Because a church that only welcomes without challenge can easily drift into comfort and complacency. And a church that only challenges without love creates fear and shame. But when a church commits to both—deep hospitality and holy truth-telling—it becomes a space where real transformation can happen.

We need churches that don’t just say “you belong,” but also say, “there’s more.” Churches that draw people in with compassion and then call them up with conviction. Spaces that make room for brokenness and beauty, for grace and growth.

That’s what Jesus did. He welcomed the outcast, ate with sinners, and extended belonging before behavior—but he also spoke truth with clarity and courage. And he called out systems that hurt the very people the church was supposed to protect.

In a world full of extremes, we don’t need churches that choose between welcome or challenge—we need churches brave enough to hold both.

Week 36: This Contrast Matters

by Searching For Jesus in America

Who: Sarah and Nate

Church: Citizens of Heaven

Lunch: Oddstory

Topic: Great Hermeneutics and Exegesis… and a Willingness to Go Deep

This week is one where the connections run deep and where the personal and professional cross over… a few times. I met Sarah a year after we moved to Chattanooga and at the time she was working for Mental Health Association of East Tennessee. One of our very first projects together was a seven month labor of love that had us looking at the role of the Church when it comes to the mental health crisis facing our youth.

I could probably write five separate posts about this endeavor, but here’s the short version:

A while back, we tried to gather a group of local youth pastors for monthly conversations about the complex role churches play—both for better and worse—when it comes to the mental health of the young people in their care. Our hope was to create a space for honest dialogue and shared learning, where we could bring in community members with deep lived experience and professional insight—counselors, crisis responders, advocates—people who understood both the systemic challenges and the quiet suffering so many teens endure.

The meetings were co-facilitated by me, Sarah, and our friend Chris, who formerly worked with the Tennessee Suicide Prevention Network. All of us are Christians bringing invaluable perspectives, particularly around the intersection of faith and crisis prevention.

But here’s the hard truth: getting church leaders to attend was nearly impossible.

We heard all kinds of reasons—scheduling conflicts, theological differences, and, at times, just silence. But perhaps the most disheartening barrier was the deep division among some church leaders themselves. In more than one conversation, I felt like I was back in middle school—navigating cliques and rivalries, rather than a shared commitment to serve the young people in our community. It was a stark reminder that ego and turf wars can often get in the way of real, collaborative ministry. But one conversation still haunts me. A pastor with a congregation of over 1,000 people told us, point-blank, that his church “didn’t have a mental health problem.”

Statistically, that’s not just unlikely—it’s impossible.

When 1 in 5 teens experiences a mental health disorder and suicide remains a leading cause of death among young people, the idea that any large group of people—let alone an entire church—would be immune is dangerously naive. And when leaders dismiss the reality their youth are living, they’re not only failing to support them—they’re helping perpetuate the silence and stigma that keep kids from getting help in the first place.

This work is hard. But we keep showing up because we believe faith communities can and should be part of the healing process. And we’re not done trying.

I’m going to circle back to this in a moment—because it directly connects to the work our family is committed to. But more than that, it represents an incredible opportunity for the Church—not just to show up in name, but to step into the kind of transformational work that reflects the heart of the Gospel. It’s a chance to reimagine what it looks like to build relationships, meet tangible needs, and stand in the gaps where systems have failed. And if we’re willing to lean in, the impact could be both immediate and lasting.

So what were my takeaways from Citizens of Heaven?

I’m extremely hesitant to make a list of things I like (or don’t like) about any church. That has never been the goal of this project, and it still isn’t. This isn’t about personal preferences—musical styles, preaching formats, or whether there’s coffee in the lobby. Those things are surface-level. What I’m paying attention to—what this journey is about—is how communities live out their values: how they care for people, how they respond to brokenness, how they make space for those who’ve been left out or hurt. So while I may mention things I appreciated, it’s not to score points or make comparisons. It’s to highlight the ways a faith community’s posture can reflect the heart of Jesus. And in this case, there are some specific ways this church’s leadership and approach have done just that—and they’re worth naming.

One of the things I really need—and honestly feel compelled—to talk about is hermeneutics and exegesis. Not in some academic, ivory tower way, but because how we interpret Scripture matters deeply in the life of the Church and in the lives of the people we’re trying to love and serve. The lens we bring to the Bible—our hermeneutic—shapes what we see and don’t see. And our exegesis, the way we draw meaning from the text, has a direct impact on how we teach, how we lead, and how we show up in the world. When Scripture is handled responsibly, it can bring healing, challenge systems of injustice, and call us toward radical love. But when it’s used carelessly, or through a lens of power, fear, or cultural bias, it can do real harm.

So when I visit churches or listen to sermons, It’s not about whether the speaker is dynamic or the message is polished. I’m listening for how the text is being handled. Are we digging into context? Are we asking hard questions? Are we letting Scripture disrupt us, or are we using it to justify what we already believe? These are the kinds of questions that matter to me.

And, for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was back in seminary. For some, that might sound like a turn-off—like the sermon was going to be too intellectual, too dense, or disconnected from everyday life. But it shouldn’t be. And here’s why:

A gifted preacher doesn’t preach at people from an academic pedestal. They know how to meet people where they are, whether someone is walking through the door for the first time in years or has been studying theology for decades. They’re able to hold both the surface and the depth—offering something that is immediately accessible while also inviting people to go further, to wrestle, to dig into the tension and richness of Scripture.

That’s what good preaching does: it doesn’t water anything down, but it also doesn’t shame people for not knowing everything. It creates space for curiosity. It says, “You don’t have to have a degree to understand this—but if you do want to go deeper, there’s room for that, too.”

That’s what I felt for the first time in a long while: like I was being challenged and fed—not just emotionally, but intellectually and spiritually. And I think we need more of that in the Church today. Because when we honor people’s capacity to think deeply and feel deeply, we’re honoring the full complexity of who God made us to be.

I also want to mention that Citizens of Heaven just kicked off a new sermon series on the Gospel of John. Now, I’ll be honest—John isn’t my favorite book of the Bible (that title goes to James… feel free to psychoanalyze that however you want). But it does contain my absolute favorite passage: John 17:20–23.

I naturally lean toward the ESV for most of my reading, but the NIV’s interpretation of this particular passage has always stuck with me. And I’m genuinely looking forward to seeing how their pastor unpacks these three verses when the time comes.

That said… it might take a little while to get there. This past Sunday, he made it through just a few verses. (As someone who once spent two years walking a group of 20-somethings through the book of Romans, I have nothing but respect for that kind of deep dive.) And honestly? I’m here for it. Bring on the slow, intentional walk through Scripture.

Their pastor also spent time sharing parts of his own mental health journey—a moment that stood out not only for its vulnerability but also for how rare it is to hear from the pulpit. In my experience, pastors are often expected to carry the weight of spiritual leadership with an almost superhuman level of emotional control. But when a pastor openly names their struggles—whether with anxiety, depression, burnout, or anything else—it disrupts that false narrative and gives others permission to be human, too. It models emotional honesty, reduces stigma, and reminds the congregation that faith and mental health are not at odds. In a time when so many are quietly carrying emotional burdens, his willingness to speak openly created space for connection, healing, and grace.

My experience at Citizens of Heaven, juxtaposed against the experiences mentioned at the beginning of this post, reveals a stark and sobering contrast. In many of the spaces we’ve stepped into—especially when visiting churches or seeking collaboration for community work for BTCYI—we’ve often been met with hesitation, defensiveness, or even outright dismissal. Whether it’s theological rigidity, personality politics, or simply a reluctance to partner outside of one’s own circle, the result is the same: closed doors and missed opportunities for meaningful connection.

But Citizens of Heaven felt different. There was a sense of humility in the way they approached their leadership, a willingness to be vulnerable, and a genuine openness to engaging people where they are. Instead of posturing or presenting a perfectly polished image, they embraced authenticity—and in doing so, made space for others to do the same.

This contrast matters. Because it shows what’s possible when a faith community leads with grace instead of ego, hospitality instead of hierarchy, and curiosity instead of control. It’s the difference between gatekeeping and bridge-building. And in a world—and a Church—where so many are feeling disillusioned or displaced, that difference could not be more important.

Week 32: “We’re hated because of our conservative Christian values.”

by Searching For Jesus in America

When I attended the first Civics + Culture class at Calvary Chapel Chattanooga in January, I approached it with an open mind, hoping to gain insight into their perspective. Politically, I’ve never aligned strictly with one party—I’ve likely voted for Democrats and Republicans in equal measure. (Granted, Maine Republicans tend to have a slightly different political ideology than their counterparts in the South, especially over the past decade.) However, as the class unfolded, it became evident that the leadership at Calvary Chapel Chattanooga was not merely engaging in civic education, but actively promoting a specific ideological agenda.

The leader of the Civics + Culture Ministry explained how in the fall of 2020, when Charlie Kirk spoke at their church, the seeds for this class and the direction for the ministry were first planted. Known for spreading misinformation and engaging in divisive culture war rhetoric, Kirk often distorts history, misrepresents policies, and makes inflammatory statements that fuel fear and resentment. When I think about the “fruits of the Spirit” I assuredly do not think of him and when churches give him a platform, they risk replacing gospel-centered teaching with political partisanship, discipling congregants in partisan loyalty rather than a faith that transcends political boundaries. Instead of fostering unity and biblical wisdom, this kind of rhetoric turns the church into an echo chamber for political ideology, reinforcing the idea that a singular political worldview is the only acceptable Christian perspective. This shift diminishes the role of spiritual formation, replacing Christlike humility, justice, and peacemaking with political mobilization and cultural tribalism.

You can find countless examples that highlight why we should approach figures like Charlie Kirk with caution, at the very least. His track record of spreading misinformation, promoting divisive rhetoric, and conflating political ideology with Christianity raises serious concerns about the influence he holds. When we uncritically accept the words of “public figures” who prioritize partisanship over truth, we risk distorting our understanding of faith, community, and civic responsibility. It’s essential to engage with different perspectives thoughtfully, fact-check claims, and ensure that the voices shaping our worldview align with values of integrity, wisdom, and compassion. You can find a great (and embarrassing) example of this HERE.

But, I wasn’t prepared for how personal it would become.

Within minutes of the first lecture beginning, it was explained that their motto for this ministry is “educate, equip, and empower”… the same exact motto for our organization. It was jolting. So much that I excused myself from the auditorium, slipping into the hall to call my daughter.

I didn’t leave because I was angry. I left because I was heartbroken. What do you do when language you use to represent healing and transformation in your context is echoed in a space that seems to be using it for a very different kind of formation? Hearing our words repurposed in a setting so closely aligned with ideologies and voices that contradict our values—not just politically, but spiritually—felt like a gut punch.

It might come as a surprise to some people, but our organization actually started as a ministry. And we ran it as a ministry for the first three years. Our version of “educate, equip, and empower” has always been grounded in the life and teachings of Jesus: equipping young people to ask hard questions, to engage with the world compassionately and critically, to advocate for justice, and to recognize the Imago Dei in every person. But in that moment, I realized that even the most well-intentioned language can be co-opted to support a narrative of fear, exclusion, and allegiance to power structures that have little to do with the kingdom of God.

I returned to my seat with a quiet resolve—not to fight over slogans or semantics, but to stay deeply rooted in the kind of formation that bears good fruit. The kind that doesn’t bend to pressure or popularity but is guided by love, humility, and the witness of Christ. Because if we’re not careful, we can spend all our time winning arguments and lose the very soul of our witness. And I refuse to let that happen—not in our work, and not in my own heart.

But, as I sat there on that first night, a pattern started to emerge—not just in what was being said, but in what wasn’t. Then one of the leaders made a statement that struck me as deeply dissonant: “We’re hated because of our Conservative Christian values.”

At first, I let the words sit, trying to understand where they were coming from. But the more I thought about it, the more it felt off. The truth is, people aren’t typically “hated” because they hold values. We all have values—ethical, spiritual, cultural. What breeds resistance, frustration, and even pain is when those values are forced onto others, often without empathy, humility, or room for conversation.

In many cases, the issue isn’t the values themselves, but how they’re weaponized—used to shame, exclude, or control. And when those so-called “Christian” values become disconnected from the actual life and teachings of Jesus—who welcomed outsiders, elevated the marginalized, and embodied compassion—they become something else entirely: a political identity dressed up as faith.

What I heard in that moment wasn’t just defensiveness—it was a refusal to wrestle with how the Church’s witness has been compromised. It’s easier to say “we’re hated because of our faith” than to ask hard questions about whether we’re truly living in the way of Christ.

Over the past several months, I’ve been pulling at multiple threads in the Christian Nationalism conversation. I’ve been unable to find a universally agreed upon platform, but there are clear patterns, statements, and leaders that articulate its core beliefs—and in recent years, some groups and political figures have explicitly outlined agendas that align with or promote Christian Nationalist ideologies:

  1. A belief that the U.S. was founded as a Christian nation and should return to that identity
  2. Efforts to integrate Christian values into laws, education, and government
  3. A distrust or rejection of pluralism, secularism, and separation of church and state

And I’m going to unpack those three points in the following two paragraphs:

The belief that the United States was founded as a Christian nation and should return to that identity is historically and theologically problematic. While many of our Founding Fathers were influenced by Christian ethics, they intentionally established a government that protected religious freedom and rejected a national religion. This view often overlooks the diverse religious beliefs of the Founders—including deism and Enlightenment thought—and ignores the systemic injustices (like slavery and Indigenous genocide) that were often justified using religious rhetoric. Theologically, equating God’s kingdom with any nation-state distorts the message of Jesus, who rejected political power and emphasized a global, borderless faith rooted in humility and love.

Efforts to integrate Christian values into government, education, and law also raises serious concerns about religious liberty and pluralism. Christianity is not a monolith—different traditions interpret scripture in vastly different ways—so embedding one group’s values into public policy privileges certain voices while silencing others. (And I will talk about this in a later post.) When faith is legislated rather than freely lived, it becomes coercive rather than compelling. Rejecting pluralism and the separation of church and state further undermines democracy and damages the credibility of the church. Ironically, it is this separation that has historically protected the church from being co-opted by political power. Jesus welcomed the outsider and called his followers to lead with compassion rather than control—showing that pluralism, the practice of honoring and respecting people across lines of difference, isn’t just a democratic ideal but a deeply Christlike one. Far from compromising the gospel, this posture reflects the heart of Jesus, who embraced the marginalized, challenged exclusion, and modeled a love that transcended social, cultural, and religious boundaries.

So, taking all this in to consideration, WHY do Christian Nationalists feel they are hated?

In my experience, Christian Nationalists often feel they are hated because they perceive growing resistance to their beliefs as persecution rather than critique. For much of American history, Christian (particularly white Protestant) values held cultural dominance in public life. As society became more pluralistic and inclusive of diverse worldviews, Christian Nationalists most likely saw this shift as a threat to what they view as a God-ordained identity for the nation. The loss of cultural control feels like oppression to those accustomed to influence and authority. When people challenge their political rhetoric or efforts to legislate specific Christian norms, Christian Nationalists often interpret such pushback as an attack on their faith rather than a legitimate disagreement with their political ideology.

When Christian identity is tied more to political power than to the teachings of Jesus, opposition to that agenda is misread as opposition to the gospel itself. In reality, many critics are not rejecting Christianity, but are instead seeking to protect its integrity from being compromised by political agendas.

But, there’s also something that needs to be addressed: Much of the Christian Nationalist agenda is focused on dominance and submission, not the mission and teachings of Jesus. You can see this happening all around the country.

Across the country, Christian Nationalists have pushed for laws that assert religious dominance in public spaces—such as requiring schools to post the Ten Commandments in classrooms, mandating moments of prayer, or encouraging Bible readings during the school day. These efforts are framed as a return to “biblical values” in education, yet many of the same lawmakers advocating for these policies have simultaneously opposed legislation that would provide free school lunches, expand healthcare access, or offer support to immigrant families and children. This reveals a striking hypocrisy: Christian Nationalists promote symbolic displays of faith while neglecting the core teachings of Jesus—such as feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, and caring for the poor. Instead of reflecting a faith rooted in compassion and justice, these actions prioritize performative religiosity and political control, often at the expense of the very people Jesus called his followers to serve.

So… here’s my honest take on Calvary Chapel Chattanooga: When the gospel gets overshadowed by culture war narratives, creating an “us vs. them” mentality that’s more reflective of partisanship than Christlike love, the church risks becoming a political echo chamber rather than a spiritual refuge. It stops being a place where people are invited to be transformed by grace and starts becoming a place where people are pressured to conform to a specific ideological mold. Instead of drawing people toward Jesus, it is, quite literally, pushing them away—especially those who are seeking hope, healing, and belonging. (I’ve talked to more than a dozen people who have left that church.) When loyalty to a political worldview becomes a litmus test for faithfulness, we lose sight of the radical, inclusive, upside-down kingdom Jesus preached—a kingdom where the last are first, the outsider is welcomed in, and love is the measure of everything.

There’s also a noticeable arrogance in SOME of the leadership—an air of certainty so thick, it leaves little room for questions, nuance, or honest wrestling. It’s the kind of spiritual pride that speaks with authority but rarely listens, that defends ideology more fiercely than it demonstrates humility. And honestly, that kind of posture is something I wouldn’t go near with a ten-foot pole. Because when leadership becomes more about being right than being Christlike, it creates a culture where doubt is dangerous, dissent is silenced, and the image of Jesus gets distorted in the name of control.

It stops being about shepherding people in love and becomes focused on maintaining power. That’s the same trap the Pharisees fell into—clinging to religious authority, obsessed with appearances, and threatened by anything that challenged their hold on influence. Jesus didn’t just challenge their theology; he exposed their hunger for control. And the danger today is that we repeat their mistakes—building systems that look holy on the outside but are driven by fear, pride, and the need to stay in charge.

That’s not the kingdom Jesus came to build.

Week 30: Too Many Red Flags To Count (Part 4 of 5)

by Searching For Jesus in America

On February 23rd, Calvary Chapel Chattanooga offered a Political Activism Workshop as part of their Civics + Culture series. This workshop was designed for individuals resonating with a ‘Nehemiah’ burden, focusing on how to engage civically to bring about necessary change in the community. As a proponent for the Separation of Church and State, I believe it’s important to examine how this workshop framed political engagement within a religious context.

While churches have historically influenced social movements, the Johnson Amendment, enacted in 1954, restricts 501(c)(3) organizations, including churches, from endorsing or opposing political candidates. However, these tax-exempt organizations can still engage in voter education, issue advocacy, and civic participation, provided they remain neutral and do not explicitly support or oppose any candidate or party.

Simply put, whether Calvary Chapel Chattanooga’s Political Activism Workshop violates the Johnson Amendment depends on what was taught and encouraged:

  • If the workshop focused on general civic engagement—like voter registration, understanding government processes, or engaging in issue-based advocacy—it would likely not violate the Johnson Amendment.
  • If the workshop explicitly promoted specific candidates, parties, or election outcomes, it could violate the amendment and risk their tax-exempt status.

The Johnson Amendment is being widely discussed again because of its potential impact on the 2024 election, growing concerns over church involvement in politics, and recent political efforts to challenge, or weaken it. Many conservative churches openly endorse candidates despite the law, as the IRS rarely enforces it. Some proponents of the amendment believe it restricts religious freedom, while groups like Patriot Church and Turning Point Faith mobilize congregations for elections. As Christian nationalism gains traction, some pastors see political endorsements as a duty. Meanwhile, Democrats and watchdog groups are calling for stricter enforcement, raising the possibility of legal battles and IRS crackdowns.

So, is Calvary Church Chattanooga in violation of the Johnson Amendment? Today’s post takes a closer look at what was said at the Political Activism Workshop on February 23rd. (This isn’t about broad assumptions or speculation.) It’s about what was actually said in that room on that day and whether it crossed the legal boundaries that separate permissible civic engagement from partisan political activity—a distinction that’s crucial for any 501(c)(3) tax-exempt organization.

The workshop began with the review of a worksheet and the explanation of “why should Christian Republicans get involved” in local politics. What followed was an explanation of the Hamilton County voter turn-out in the 2020 and 2024 elections, specifically the decrease in voter turnout in the past two Presidential elections. The leader of the workshop voiced a notable frustration with the local Republican Party: “You would have hoped that there was more messaging from the Republican Party to capture Democrats and give them a true understanding of what was happening and why voting Democrat was not helpful for America.”

Beyond potential legal concerns, making such statements in a church setting can alienate members of the congregation who may hold different political beliefs. A church should ideally foster unity, inclusivity, and a focus on faith rather than partisan politics. Encouraging civic engagement in a nonpartisan way—such as promoting voting, discussing moral and ethical issues, or providing balanced information—would be more appropriate.

About 10 minutes into the workshop, when referencing the upcoming election for Hamilton County GOP leadership, she also said the following: “It is crucial to have us as normal, healthy Christians that think critically in the GOP because they do not. That is what I’ve learned. They are, many of them, are in it for the wrong reasons.”

This statement is problematic for many reasons. The phrase “normal, healthy Christians” implies that those outside this viewpoint—or those who were in GOP leadership—are abnormal or unhealthy, creating a divisive tone rather than fostering dialogue. Additionally, sweeping generalizations like “they do not” think critically and “many of them are in it for the wrong reasons” assume bad intentions without evidence, dismissing potential allies and alienating others. By conflating religious belief with political ideology, it suggests that being a certain type of Christian is necessary to participate in or improve the GOP, which risks excluding believers with different perspectives and contradicting the idea that faith should transcend party lines.

As the workshop transitioned into its primary focus, the leader outlined three key ways congregants were expected to get involved. The first was recruiting individuals to monitor local government meetings—specifically county commission and school board meetings—take notes, and upload reports to a shared Google folder. Notably, she emphasized a particular need for people to watch school board meetings and mentioned that a Moms for Liberty group regularly attends. It’s worth pointing out that this group is known for more than just passive observation; having personally witnessed their presence at a school board meeting, their engagement, at this particular meeting, went beyond note-taking.

So, why does this matter? In her own words: “We have people on the board that say they’re conservative, and we need to hold them accountable to how they’re voting and how they’re not voting.” This statement, again, reveals a concerning ideological framework—one that prioritizes political allegiance over thoughtful governance. Rather than encouraging congregants to engage in civic processes with an open mind or a focus on community well-being, the expectation is to pressure elected officials into aligning with a specific conservative agenda. This approach not only risks reducing complex policy decisions to partisan loyalty tests but also reinforces an exclusionary mindset, where faith and governance become tools for enforcing ideological conformity rather than fostering informed, independent decision-making.

The second call to action was centered around education. They encouraged people to start book clubs, and watch documentaries. The speaker even gave an example of someone sending her a documentary on Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Civil Rights Movement that led her to hours of “reading and studying about some of the truth of that” that “changes American history if all this is true.”

This statement is problematic because it subtly casts doubt on well-documented historical events, particularly Martin Luther King Jr. and the Civil Rights Movement, by suggesting that newly discovered “truths” might change American history if they are true. The vague wording implies skepticism toward established history without clarifying what is being questioned. While encouraging book clubs and documentaries is valuable, framing education as uncovering hidden truths rather than engaging with well-researched scholarship raises concerns about ideological bias. Given the broader context of the workshop, this could be seen as an attempt to reframe or diminish the significance of the Civil Rights Movement, aligning with revisionist narratives that downplay racial justice efforts.

Also, problematic was her charge: “Once you’re educated, you’re ready to fight.” It frames education not as a means of understanding, growth, or informed civic engagement, but as a prerequisite for combat. The phrase “you’re ready to fight” suggests a confrontational, adversarial approach rather than one focused on collaboration, discourse, or meaningful community involvement. It implies that learning should lead directly to action rooted in opposition rather than fostering critical thinking, dialogue, or solutions-oriented participation. In a church setting, where unity and compassion are often emphasized, this language can encourage division and an “us vs. them” mentality rather than constructive engagement.

For the record, I’m only 16:21 into my voice recording with 48:31 to go. (She also brought up her food truck again saying “I’m not going to lay down while the leftist community attacks us.” Again saying that they “slaughtered us.” Don’t want to beat a dead horse, so to speak, but the repeated references to persecution over a business dispute continue to paint a narrative of victimhood that fuels division rather than dialogue. This rhetoric not only exaggerates opposition but also frames any criticism or pushback as an outright attack, reinforcing an “us vs. them” mentality. If the goal is civic engagement and constructive change, this kind of language does more to entrench polarization than encourage meaningful participation. And remember—I’m still only 16 minutes in, with nearly 50 minutes left to unpack.

The final call to action centered on voting, where the most blatant violations of the Johnson Amendment occurred. The speaker expressed clear frustration with the current leadership of the Hamilton County GOP and emphasized the need to replace them with candidates who align with conservative Christian values. She then proceeded to introduce all the candidates running to unseat them, specifically highlighting three who are members of Calvary Chapel Chattanooga under the leadership of Pastor Frank. (For the purposes of this post, I will not name those individuals HERE, but you can read about them here because all five candidates won their election in early March.)

What was most disconcerting was the speaker’s request for those attending the workshop to vote for these five candidates, a clear violation of the Johnson Amendment… and they know it.

I quote: “I’m gonna just say it, I can cut this out of the recording, we’d love your vote.”

Equally disturbing was her assertion of what this election would mean. And, again, I quote: “We would like to have a seat at the table. If we win we get a huge seat at the table. As a church, just being honest with you, that’s huge for us.”

At this point, I still have 32 minutes left in the recording, and dissecting every statement would be an exhaustive and repetitive exercise. However, the overarching themes of the workshop are already clear—there was a deliberate effort to merge faith with political activism, a strong push for specific ideological engagement, and repeated rhetoric that blurred the lines between religious guidance and direct political endorsement. However, there is one thing I want to draw attention to in those last 30 minutes.

The speaker invited a member of their congregation to come to the stage and share some of her thoughts and experiences. During this time, she openly praised Charlie Kirk, idolizing him as a pivotal voice in the conservative movement, a deeply troubling reflection of the growing Christian Nationalist ideology taking root in our country. Her admiration underscored a broader shift, where political allegiance and faith are increasingly intertwined in ways that blur the lines between religious conviction and partisan loyalty. She also misrepresented the Reproductive Health Act signed by Andrew Cuomo in 2019. Citing it as the tipping point that propelled her into political activism, she underscored the insipid dangers on social media propaganda.

I believe these two points deserve more attention, which is why I’ll be taking a closer look at both in the part five.

Week 29: What is Christian Nationalism? (Part 3 of 5)

by Searching For Jesus in America

The logical place to start this post is with a clear definition of Christian Nationalism. I’m taking my definition from Andrew Whitehead and Samuel Perry, sociologists and leading scholars on Christian Nationalism in the United States. Whitehead co-authored Taking America Back for God: Christian Nationalism in the United States and has extensively researched how Christian Nationalism shapes political and social attitudes. Perry has written multiple books on the intersection of Christianity and American culture, including The Flag and the Cross: White Christian Nationalism and the Threat to American Democracy.

Together, Whitehead and Perry have conducted research using national survey data to show how Christian Nationalism influences views on democracy, race, gender roles, and policy decisions in the U.S. Their work highlights the distinction between personal faith and a political ideology that seeks to merge Christianity with national identity. This is a paraphrase of their definition:

Christian nationalism is a collection of myths, traditions, symbols, narratives, and value systems—centered on the belief that America is and should be a Christian nation—that seeks to merge Christian and American identities, prescribing a particular expression of Christianity as the only true religion and the foundation of civic life.

The term Christian Nationalism is being used frequently—often without a clear understanding of what it truly means. It’s a phrase that sparks strong reactions, yet many people seem to conflate it with simply being a patriotic Christian, or engaging in politics from a faith-based perspective. It’s important to unpack what Christian Nationalism actually is, how it differs from personal faith, and why its influence is worth examining critically. (I will diving deeper into this during Parts 4 and 5 of this series.) Christian Nationalism goes beyond Christian political engagement, asserting that American identity is inseparable from Christianity. It promotes the belief that the U.S. was founded as a Christian nation and should be governed by Christian principles—often from a conservative evangelical perspective. This ideology justifies political power under religious authority, reinforces racial and gender hierarchies, and marginalizes non-Christians by advocating for Christianity’s dominance in public life.

Many American citizens, however, believe that a healthy democracy respects religious freedom while ensuring that no single belief system dominates public policy. This is a huge tenant to the Separation of Church and State, which is not about restricting religious expression, but about preventing any one religious perspective from becoming the foundation for laws that govern everyone. This protects both religious institutions from political manipulation and government from becoming an enforcer of religious doctrine.

So, with this as the backdrop, I want to take a closer look at the second half of the Civics + Culture class at Calvary Chapel Chattanooga on January 26th. And, again, there was A LOT I could dissect, but for the sake of time I’m being selective in the points I’m underscoring.

The second speaker on January 26th set the tone in her opening remarks:

“It’s not just time to sit back and relax. Having Trump as our President really just gives us four more years to freely get involved, to freely proclaim Christ, and to help build a church, to build souls to the kingdom, most importantly, and now we know that there are more people to fight with us than against us.”

This statement reflects a fusion of Christian identity with national politics, which is a key characteristic of Christian Nationalism. It frames political victory as a religious mandate and creates an us vs. them mentality, suggesting that Christianity is in a battle against opponents rather than a mission of love and service. It also merges national identity with faith, reducing the church’s role to a political strategy rather than a spiritual calling. True Christianity transcends politics and thrives regardless of who is in power. More importantly, the idea that Trump’s presidency allows Christians to “freely proclaim Christ” suggests that religious freedom is contingent on a specific political outcome. However, religious freedom in the U.S. has been constitutionally protected regardless of who is president.

The speaker then spent quite a bit of time talking about the recent Tennessee Education Freedom Act of 2025, which established a universal school choice program, providing families with state-funded scholarships of approximately $7,300 per student to cover private school tuition and related educational expenses.

I’m sitting here, sprawled out on my bed with my notes, a few books, and not enough hours in my day to dissect the misleading, and overtly false, statements. But, I do want to highlight a few of them:

  1. “When the Pilgrims first arrived, they didn’t build public schools. They built their homes and they built one building, which was their civic center, their religious center, their church, and their school. It wasn’t public schools.”
    • While the Pilgrims didn’t establish “public schools” in the modern sense, education was a priority in early colonial settlements. Churches often played a role in education, but separate schoolhouses were common as towns developed. By the late 1600s, New England had an expanding network of dedicated school buildings. They were often funded by taxes or community contributions and intended to serve all children, making them more akin to public schools than the statement suggests.
  2. “The question that comes to my mind, is how do I, as a tax payer.. once my tax dollars are received by the government, they will then be given, through the filters of bureaucracy, to another family that will send their child to a private school of their choice. Well, what if that private school is the one with the mosque over there at Hamilton Place? They’re going to teach anti-Judeo, Christian values. They’re going to teach anti-Judaism.”
    • The statement implies that Islamic schools promote anti-Jewish teachings, reinforcing harmful stereotypes and promoting fear-based rhetoric rather than informed discussion about education policy. (This was one of the moments where I had to collect myself because the blatant Islamophobia was so shocking and unapologetic that it left me momentarily speechless.) The assumption that an Islamic school would inherently teach hatred toward Jews and Christians was not just ignorant, but deeply prejudiced. It reflected a broader pattern of fear-mongering that seeks to exclude certain religious groups from the very freedoms that others take for granted.
  3. “Now there will be parents who receive government funding to send their children to private schools. Of course they’re going to be satisfied. Why would you not be? Give me free money that’s not actually free. It’s somebody else(s) paying for it and then my kid get to go to CCS? That’s awesome. I can’t afford that. I would be satisfied… I do not mean to be rude or judgmental, but a parent that is given money that they did not work for, to send their child to a private school, is going to be satisfied with that program. Until they’re not and then they want more, which is what historically happens when any government subsidy is provided.”
    • The claim that parents will inevitably demand more is a slippery slope fallacy, ignoring that many government programs provide necessary aid without leading to endless dependency. (I speak from experience—when we had our first child, federal assistance was a lifeline during that first year. Programs like Medicaid and WIC provided the support we needed to stay afloat, giving us the stability to regain our footing and become self-sufficient.) Additionally, the argument applies a double standard, questioning lower-income families benefiting from vouchers while ignoring tax breaks or financial advantages that wealthier families use for private education. Assuming that recipients will always be satisfied until they “want more” oversimplifies reality—if a program is ineffective, parents will voice concerns just like any other taxpayer. Rather than focusing on misconceptions, the debate should center on whether the program effectively serves students and promotes educational equity.

The speaker went on to spend some time discussing the upcoming Hamilton County election. While she didn’t explicitly endorse a mayoral candidate, she implied disapproval of the current mayor, stating that he is “doing the surveillance” and expressing her dissatisfaction with it. This remark served as an indirect appeal to vote for his opponent. (The “surveillance” reference stemmed from Chattanooga’s partnership with the World Economic Forum (WEF) through the G20 Global Smart Cities Alliance. In November 2020, Chattanooga was selected—alongside San Jose, California—as one of only two U.S. cities to pilot the Alliance’s smart technology policy roadmap, which aims to promote the ethical and responsible use of data and technology in urban environments.)

But, not everything was implied.

Both speakers openly expressed their concerns about Red Bank “going blue,” with the final speaker emphasizing that it was “something really on our hearts.” Her primary concern centered on the presence of four standalone CBD dispensaries in the community, but she focused much of her time on the recent controversy involving Pizzeria Cortile.

With a personal stake in the issue, she described how the restaurant’s owners—whom she identified as believers—were “completely slaughtered by the left” after refusing to cater a same-sex wedding. She characterized the backlash as “shameful and demonic,” claiming the press framed them as “bigots and homophobes” and worked to destroy their business.

She then recounted how her husband publicly supported Pizzeria Cortile, leading to what she described as “24 hours of attacks” against them. Frustrated, she asserted that “in our red county, the left is destroying people” and criticized the city for offering little more than a single police car for one day. However, what she said next was particularly telling: “I also saw nothing from the local Republican Party to support a small business of conservative, Republican values.”

(I also want to take a moment to note that she spent time explaining how the Christian community rallied around the owners of Pizza Cortile and gave them the best week of business since opening their doors. This was met with a round of applause from the crowd, which also underscores the deep sense of solidarity among those who saw the situation as a stand for religious beliefs and conservative values. It also highlights how cultural and political divides are increasingly shaping economic and social dynamics within the community.)

Hypothesizing if the situation was reverse, and local conservative, pro-Christians did the same thing to local CBD stores, the speaker stated, “I guarantee you, the City of Red Bank would have shown up and I also guarantee you the Democratic Party of Hamilton County would have shown up.” Her frustration was underscored by her inability to understand how this could happen in “our red county, in our red state.”

She use this as the opportunity to let the audience know that because she’s been “watching Christians get destroyed, and mocked, and ridiculed for their beliefs”, she’s decided to run for leadership in the local Republican Party. She told the audience that she made this decision with the support of Pastor Frank, the lead pastor at Calvary Chapel Chattanooga, and that she felt it was her calling to “help identify solid candidates who can stand up against this leftist ideology that’s permeating all of our levels of elected government, even the Republicans. People cannot be afraid, or nervous, to proclaim their faith and their values. We need a local Republican leadership who engages the family, and who helps to engage voters, and gives a voice to everyone.”

The remaining 10 minutes was spent highlighting the candidates running to replace the current Republican leadership in Hamilton County, with special recognition going to three of the five candidates “sitting under Pastor Frank’s teaching, and that all of us are like-minded advocates for freedom.” She then pointed people to the Activate Hamilton website to read their platform and asked people to 1) registered for the convention and 2) make some phone calls (and give them money) to get the vote out.

But, what she said next has stayed with me the past two months.

She went on to explain that Shelby County just flipped their “establishment GOP”, presenting it as a model for what could happen in Hamilton County. Her message was clear: the alternative to the establishment GOP isn’t just a different faction of the party—it’s a movement led by faith-driven conservatives who are unafraid to put their values at the forefront of political leadership.

In her closing remarks from January 26th, the following was said:

“As far as I’m concerned, we are not going back to the ways things were. Even just six months ago, things were wild. It was only a month ago that I was being called the most vile and disgusting things online for all saying, basically saying that I’m a Christian, Constitution supporting business owner… Satan has lost major ground right now. But, I’m telling you, and you know it in your soul, that he’s going to do everything that he can to take it back. We were complacent for decades. We got by. By God’s grace and mercy, we now have a season of fresh wind and freedom. So, I’m asking you to join us as a church, over these next four years, we’re going to put our shoulders to the plow and we’re going to work and protect these freedoms that we just received because they need to be protected for four years. And then, please God, we need another four years. A deadly wind is at our backs. The Lord is at the helm, and like He always has been. We have the time now to gain souls, most importantly, to proclaim our faith in confidence, and fight for a government that will protect those rights for generations to come.”

This statement has several problematic elements:

Messianic Framing of Political Cycles – The statement implies that a specific political leader or party is essential for securing God’s will, reducing faith to a political strategy rather than a personal or communal belief system.

Christian Nationalist Undertones – It frames political power as a divine battle, conflating faith with government control, implying that Christianity should dominate politics.

Persecution Narrative – It presents a false equivalence between personal criticism online and true religious persecution, reinforcing a victim complex to rally support.

Apocalyptic Rhetoric – It portrays political opposition as a battle between God and Satan, casting ideological opponents as evil rather than simply having differing views.

Misrepresentation of Religious Freedom – It suggests that Christians have only recently “received” freedom and that it must be protected politically, ignoring that religious freedom has always been constitutionally guaranteed.

Partisan Religious Call to Action – It urges a church community to work toward securing specific political outcomes, potentially blurring the line between faith and partisan activism in ways that could conflict with legal church restrictions (e.g., the Johnson Amendment).

Next week’s post will dive into the February 23rd workshop at Calvary, where leaders outlined a strategy to mobilize their congregation in local elections. Understanding the groundwork they’re laying and the steps they’re taking is key to seeing the bigger picture.



Week 28: Did He Just Say That? (Part 2 of 4)

by Searching For Jesus in America

Before we dive in: I’ve spent more time on today’s post than any other. I listened back through the recording taken from the event on January 26th… several times. I asked friends, who attended the event, to read over it and offer feedback. At the end of the day, I want to be fair and extend grace. But, I’m also reminded that Jesus’ harshest criticisms were to leaders in the church who misrepresented God, burdened others with hypocrisy, and led people astray. My hope is that this post reflects both truth and grace—honest in critique yet rooted in love. I’ve taken great care to ensure accuracy, sought multiple perspectives, and approached this with a heart for clarity rather than controversy. So, before we dive in, know that this isn’t written lightly.

I attended the Calvary Chapel’s Civics + Culture class on January 26th with a friend who is a member of the church, along with two others who don’t attend, but have a shared interest in the conversation around political engagement within the institution of church. This was a two hour event and to cover every aspect of what was said would take me days to unpack. So for the purposes of this post, I want to focus on something that doesn’t necessarily get much attention these days.

But it should.

In recent years, a growing number of American evangelical pastors have used their pulpits as platforms for political influence, blurring the lines between faith and partisan advocacy in ways that challenge long-standing legal and ethical boundaries. With unwavering confidence they present their own interpretations
not as perspectives, but as undeniable truths. Throughout the first hour of this particular class, this church leader stood on the stage not just as a teacher of scripture but as an arbiter of political and cultural reality, weaving his personal convictions seamlessly into his message. Rather than fostering discussion, his words functioned as declarations, leaving little room for nuance or dissent. Ideas that might have invited thoughtful engagement were instead delivered as definitive pronouncements, reinforcing a particular worldview without acknowledging its complexities or the validity of differing perspectives.

I will be covering a few of what I consider the more problematic comments, and positions, expressed by their leadership… as they relate to politics and culture. This isn’t a dissection of theological interpretation, or ideology, which would also be an intriguing topic to explore, but rather a look at how these statements influence public perception, policy discussions, and cultural narratives.

At the end of the day, TWO big issues are always front and center for me when it comes to the conversations around Christian Nationalism: the posture our church leaders are taking when presenting information (and the accuracy of that information), and potential violations of the Johnson Amendment of 1954. Today’s post addresses the former and next week’s post will cover the latter.

I also want to underscore that I took voice memos of all the presentations so I could go back and report on what was said, which is important for both accuracy and integrity.

In the opening remarks, it was underscored that the “marching orders” for the Civics + Culture ministry for the next four years came from a burden that was placed on their hearts four years earlier, specifically in September 2020 when Charlie Kirk came “to basically kick off the ministry.” For those who read the post about my Sunday morning visit to Calvary, you might remember the reference below:

Side note: Hosting Charlie Kirk at a Sunday morning church service, under a talk titled We the Thinking People—framed with imagery of the American flag and U.S. Capitol—signals a troubling fusion of faith and nationalism, replacing theological reflection with political ideology and redefining the church as a platform for partisan influence rather than spiritual community.

During the speaker’s explanation of world events during this time and the subsequent four years, he outlined a series of developments that, in his view, reflected a broader societal and political shift. He described organized efforts to escalate unrest, as well as government overreach, and ideological transformations affecting institutions and culture. The following list, while not exhaustive, highlights some of the things that were said at Calvary’s event on January 26th:

  • Referencing the George Floyd riots, he said that secret NGOs were delivering palettes of bricks all across the US to help instigate destruction.
  • The city of Seattle “fell… conquered by Antifa”.
  • Referencing the “transgender madness”, he said we have lost all understanding of what gender is.
  • The establishment of “race Marxism” throughout all of our institutions, specifically referencing DEI and Intersectionality.
  • “We had to face a stolen election, in my opinion.”
  • “We had to endure the invasion of our southern boarder.”
  • “Trump supporters were put on terrorist watch lists at enemy of the state.”
  • He inaccurately stated that within the first week of taking office for the second time, 118 Executive Orders were signed by Trump. (The actual number is 36.)

I’ll admit, after hearing a few of these statements, I turned to my friends and whispered, “Did he really just say that?” Some of the commentary was unsurprising, but some caught me off guard—statements that were outright false, conspiracy theories long debunked, and propaganda disguised as truth. Some were merely opinions, yet they were presented with the certainty of undeniable fact. I spent HOURS researching all of these comments and the rabbit roles were seemingly endless and disconcerting. In an environment where statements, no matter how unfounded, are delivered with unwavering confidence, they become self-reinforcing, shaping perceptions without scrutiny.

When propaganda is wrapped in the language of truth and authority, it ceases to be just misinformation; it becomes a tool of influence, steering entire communities toward a singular narrative while discouraging critical thinking. The result is an echo chamber where ideology replaces inquiry, and the need for certainty overrides the pursuit of truth.

Some, if not all, of these statements touch on topics that are deeply personal to many of us, shaped by our experiences, values, and the information we consume from sources we trust. (Whether that trust is warranted is a completely different conversation.) But no matter what “position” you hold on any of these issues, I keep coming back to this: Jesus teaches us to be curious about what people believe. He didn’t avoid hard conversations—He asked questions, told stories, and met people where they were, even when their perspectives were flawed or uncomfortable.

Jesus did it with grace… and without arrogance, contempt, or condemnation.

And while it’s natural for people of faith to engage with societal and cultural issues, doing so in a manner that aligns with Jesus’ teachings requires a posture of humility, love, and a commitment to gospel-centered transformation rather than political or ideological conquest. Bridging these two perspectives—concern for the world and the call to Christlike living—should be the goal for those seeking to follow Jesus faithfully in turbulent times.

If evangelical communities are to engage in meaningful cultural and political discourse, it is essential that they move beyond abstract debates and genuinely listen to the lived experiences of those whose realities they so often condemn. Without this willingness to sit face-to-face with the people behind the policies they oppose, their convictions risk being shaped by assumptions rather than understanding, leading not to truth and compassion, but to misrepresentation and harm.

Since attending the January 26th class, I’ve asked three members of Calvary to share their thoughts on issues related to gender identity, and they openly did. After listening to their perspectives, I then asked a follow-up question: Had they ever sat down and had a real conversation with someone who is transgender?

All three of them said no.

And that, right there, is a huge part of the problem.

It’s easy to form strong opinions from a distance—to debate concepts, make assumptions, or even pass judgment without ever engaging with the actual people those discussions affect. This is what the Pharisees did, and it’s antithetical to the way Jesus lived his life… and calls us to live ours. Real understanding doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It happens in conversation. It happens when we listen to lived experiences, when we move beyond rhetoric and into relationship. And perhaps the most crucial part is this: those three people were wrong about so much — Not because they were intentionally cruel or malicious, but because their understanding was shaped by secondhand narratives, assumptions, and a lack of direct experience. They spoke with certainty about things they had never personally encountered, drawing conclusions from sermons, news segments, and cultural talking points rather than from real conversations with real people.

This is where the disconnect happens. When we talk about people without talking to them, we risk getting it wrong—misrepresenting their experiences, oversimplifying complex realities, and ultimately reinforcing harmful misunderstandings. These three individuals may have believed they were standing on truth, but their certainty crumbled under the weight of their own admitted lack of interaction.

The question we have to ask ourselves is this: Are we truly seeking truth, or just reaffirming what we think we already know? Because if we’re not willing to engage, to listen, and to challenge our own perspectives, then we aren’t actually pursuing truth at all—we’re just clinging to comfort.

Okay… there’s no easy way to transition here, but I want to set up next week’s post and potential violations of the Johnson Amendment of 1954. Both presenters had a clear animosity towards the Biden administration, as well as local political changes, like “losing Red Bank” to Democrats, and their frustration was evident. The first presenter even went so far as to say that he believes you can be a Christian and “fit inside the Republican Party” but cannot be a Democrat and a Christian. He went on to say that if you know everything about today’s Democratic Party you cannot be for that and for Christ.

During one of his segments, he also talked about how families have been torn apart because of this and attributing it to a level of Satanic activity in our nation that we haven’t seen in our lifetime. His claim that Satanic activity is at an all-time high in the nation, while reflecting his deep concerns about moral and cultural shifts, risks leading believers toward a response driven by fear and division rather than faith and trust in God’s sovereignty. If the battle is already won in Christ, as the Bible teaches (John 16:33), then the role of Christians is not to fight a war against society but to live as faithful witnesses to God’s love and truth.

He also invoked war/battle terminology and symbolism stating that “We’ve won some elections, we’ve won some battles, but we haven’t won the war.” This perspective, while resonant in certain political and cultural contexts, does not align with the teachings of Jesus. Christ’s message was not one of earthly conquest, but of peace, reconciliation, and the transformation of hearts. When Jesus spoke of battles and struggles, they were spiritual in nature, centered on overcoming sin, extending love, and embodying the values of God’s kingdom.

Honestly, I feel like most of these leaders are more focused on the Jesus who returns with a sword than the Jesus who walked among us 2,000 years ago.

They seem drawn to the imagery of power, judgment, and triumphant victory—Jesus as the warrior King, coming to set things right with divine force. They preach about righteousness in terms of battle lines, about standing firm against the enemy, about a Christ who will one day return to conquer and rule. And while those themes exist in scripture, they fixate on them at the expense of something just as crucial: the Jesus who already came.

The Jesus who sat with sinners. Who touched the untouchable. Who wept with the grieving. Who challenged the religious elite not with force, but with truth spoken in love. The Jesus who laid down power instead of seizing it, who chose a cross instead of a throne.

When leaders focus more on the Jesus of Revelation than the Jesus of the Gospels, they risk missing the heart of his message. They start seeing people as opponents to defeat rather than neighbors to love. They speak of culture wars instead of kingdom invitations. They wield scripture like a weapon rather than a source of life.

But Jesus didn’t call us to win a war—he called us to love our enemies, to serve, to seek justice with humility. If we lose sight of that Jesus, we aren’t following him at all. We’re just waiting for a version of him that fits our desire for control.

For instance, in John 18:36, Jesus tells Pilate, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place.” This statement highlights that Christ’s mission was not about political or cultural dominance but about spiritual redemption. His followers were not called to engage in ideological warfare but to spread love, grace, and truth.

Additionally, in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:9), Jesus blesses the peacemakers, not those who seek victory over perceived enemies. His teachings emphasize loving one’s enemies (Matthew 5:44), turning the other cheek (Matthew 5:39), and seeking reconciliation over division. Framing cultural shifts as a war to be won can contribute to a mindset of hostility rather than healing, contradicting the call to be ambassadors of Christ’s reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:18-20).

Moreover, the New Testament consistently presents the idea that the true battle is not against people or institutions, but against spiritual forces (Ephesians 6:12). Paul instructs believers to put on the full armor of God, which consists of truth, righteousness, faith, and peace—not rhetoric of conquest or political struggle.

I can go on with examples, but I think you probably get the point. The next post will talk more about Christian Nationalism, but I think it’s important to underscore the importance of humility in our conversations. If we truly seek truth and unity, we must be mindful not to let partisan politics take root in our churches. I’d go so far as to say that if we’re talking about Republicans and Democrats at all, we’re missing the point.

We’re missing Jesus.

Week 27: In Our Front Yard (Part 1 of 4)

by Searching For Jesus in America

Who: Me and a Few Friends

Church: Calvary Chapel Chattanooga

Topic: Christian Nationalism

Back in November, I visited Calvary Chapel Chattanooga. That experience turned into my longest post to date—for now. (My next one might take the title.) But more than just its length, that post sparked the most DMs I’ve ever received. Calvary Chapel has a reputation in our community. Depending on who you ask, that reputation varies—sometimes dramatically and the responses to my post made that even more clear.

People had thoughts.

Some messaged to share their own experiences—some affirming, some challenging. One person just wanted to say, “Thank you for putting words to something I’ve felt but never voiced.” And that response confirmed that this conversation—about faith, church culture, and the rise of Christian Nationalism in our front yard—is one people are ready to have.

So, a few weeks ago, someone showed me a screen shot of a public Facebook post about an upcoming event at Calvary Chapel. Apparently, the church gathers once a month for lectures, discussions, and biblical teachings through their Civics + Culture series. These classes address topics such as policy, legislation, law, and social issues, providing participants with resources to prepare them for important conversations, advocacy, and activism.

Full disclosure, I wouldn’t typically consider attending an event like this, but I was curious to understand how a church like Calvary Chapel approaches civics and cultural engagement. Given its reputation in the community, hearing firsthand how they discuss policy, legislation, and social issues through a biblical lens, as well as how they view current events and the role they believe the church should play in shaping culture, I thought it could be helpful when trying to engage in dialogue with those who agree with their stances.

It also needs to be said that the Facebook post had some rather disconcerting language. Some red flags, if you will:

“In 537 BC, a massive political shift took place that set the stage for one of the most important revivals in Israel’s history. When the political environment went from extreme hostility towards the Jews, to one of favor almost overnight – they knew it was time to act; but, it would require much work and sacrifice to achieve their revival.

“In a few days (please note: this was posted right before the inauguration), we will experience another massive political shift. The Church in the United States will no longer co-exist with a government hostile towards her; but, a government that stay(s) out of her way. Are we ready to make the sacrifice to do the work that God is calling His Church to do?”

There are several problematic aspects of this statement, particularly in how it frames historical and contemporary political events:

  1. Misapplication of Historical Context – The reference to 537 BC likely points to the Persian King Cyrus allowing the Jewish exiles to return to Jerusalem, ending their Babylonian captivity. However, equating this event with a modern U.S. political transition is historically and theologically questionable, at the very least. Ancient Israel was a theocratic nation, whereas the United States is a secular democracy with religious freedom for all. The comparison implies a level of divine endorsement for a political shift that is not theologically, or historically, sound. (Make a mental note about King Cyrus, because this will be mentioned in Part 2 and how leadership at Calvary Chapel equate Cyrus to Trump. Additionally, there is a growing contingent who want to see the United States become a theocracy.)
  2. Assumption of Political Favoritism by God – The quote suggests that one government is “hostile” toward the Church while another will allow it to thrive. This assumes that political favor equates to God’s favor, which is a problematic perspective. Christianity has historically thrived under persecution and hardship, and Jesus Himself warned that His followers would face opposition (John 15:18-20). The idea that a government that “stays out of the way” is inherently better for the Church oversimplifies complex religious and political dynamics.
  3. Exclusionary and Partisan Framing – The quote implies that only one political party, or government, can truly support Christianity, alienating believers who may have different political views. It also ignores the religious pluralism of the U.S. and the fact that many people of faith exist across the political spectrum. (The Calvary Chapel staff member leading this class made it VERY clear that he believes it impossible for Democrats to be Christians. This will also be discussed in Part 2.)
  4. Over-Simplification of Religious and Political Reality – The statement assumes that the previous administration was actively hostile toward Christianity and that the new administration will be entirely hands-off. In reality, religious freedom is protected by law, and policies affecting religion are complex and nuanced. The suggestion that Christians can now suddenly act because of a political shift disregards the ongoing work of churches and believers who have been active in their faith regardless of political leadership.
  5. The Danger of Christian Nationalism – The language suggests that the Church’s success is tied to political power, which aligns with Christian nationalistic thinking. Throughout history, whenever Christianity has been deeply intertwined with political power, it has often led to corruption, exclusion, and the oppression of others rather than the gospel’s message of love, justice, and humility.

That was a lot to digest, but I think it’s important—now more than ever—to take a step back and really examine what’s being said in our churches and by those who profess a faith in Jesus, particularly when it comes to the intersection of faith and politics.

Christian nationalism is not just about patriotism, or civic engagement; it’s a distortion of the gospel that fuses national identity with religious belief, often at the expense of the very teachings of Jesus. When church leaders and Christian influencers frame political power as proof of divine favor, or suggest that the church’s mission is tied to the success of a particular government or ideology, we have to ask:

  • Is this truly what Jesus taught?
  • Are we being led by the gospel, or by fear, power, and political ambition?
  • Are we shaping our faith around Jesus’ call to love, serve, and uplift others, or are we reshaping Jesus to fit a political agenda?

The danger of Christian nationalism is that it often weaponizes faith—turning it into a tool for exclusion, control, and, at times, outright oppression. It can lead to marginalizing those who don’t fit a particular political or cultural mold, rewriting history to serve ideology, and prioritizing power over the radical love and humility that Jesus modeled.

As followers of Christ, we have a responsibility to be discerning. That means not blindly accepting everything spoken from a pulpit, or platform, simply because it carries Christian language. It means examining the fruits of these teachings—are they producing justice, mercy, and humility, or are they fostering division, fear, and a thirst for control?

Jesus never sought political dominance. He never called His followers to secure power at all costs. Instead, He told them to love their enemies, serve the least among them, and seek a kingdom that is not of this world. 

If our churches are preaching something else, we need to ask: Whose kingdom are we really building?

SIDE NOTE: This is the first post in what I anticipate will be a four-part series. The next two posts will offer an in-depth look at two separate Civics + Culture events at Calvary Chapel Chattanooga that I personally attended. The fourth post will take a deeper dive into the Christian Nationalist movement—why it stands in direct opposition to the life and teachings of Christ, how it distorts the mission of his followers, and the ways we can challenge and counter a harmful theology that prioritizes political power over the gospel’s call to love, humility, and justice.

Week 26: What I’ve Learned Over the Last Six Months

by Searching For Jesus in America

Who: Liz and Kody

Church: City Collective

Lunch: Kenny’s

Topic: What is Church and will I attend a Sunday morning service after this project

Well, I made it to the halfway mark and I’m not sure where to start. Before I began this project, I made a commitment to myself to visit my “home church” every three months to stay connected and, honestly, I miss my people. So, today I went back to City Collective and then grabbed lunch with these two humans. To say I adore them would be an understatement. I genuinely consider them to be family. Liz was there with me during the very first week of this journey, and now, as she sits beside me at the halfway mark, it only feels right that she’s there for the final week, too.

Something people might not know about our family, we don’t have a very large inner-circle. We don’t trust a lot of people, for understandable reasons. But when we do, we hold onto them tightly. The people in our inner circle aren’t just friends—they’re the ones who have walked with us through the highs and lows, who have seen the messy, unfiltered parts of our lives and stayed anyway. Because, here’s the reality: What you see is genuinely what you get with our family. We don’t put on a show, we don’t sugarcoat things, we don’t pander to the “elite”, and we don’t pretend to be something we’re not. We love deeply, we protect fiercely, and we constantly remind ourselves that authenticity matters more than approval. (And, we screw up A LOT.) We’re not here to impress the right people or fit into a mold—we’re here to live with purpose and to stand by our values.

So, as I sit at my local coffee shop reflecting on the past six months, the only thing I can think about is something I told Kody during lunch: After this year-long project is done, I’m not sure if I’ll regularly attend a Sunday morning service ever again. I know that seems like a radical, maybe even heretical, statement, but it really isn’t. Over the past six months, I’ve met some of the most extraordinary people—fellow sojourners navigating the complexities of faith. A recurring theme in our conversations has been the growing tension with how the contemporary church has embraced a business model, often prioritizing growth metrics, branding, and polished performances over genuine community, discipleship, and the raw, messy beauty of authentic faith. And one of the questions everyone seems to be asking:

If not this, then what?

I won’t even begin to unpack all of that here, but I will say this—and I can only speak for myself. For far too long, I blindly accepted what was handed to me, never questioning the traditions, the systems, or the way faith was packaged and presented. But when I finally did start asking questions—when I started holding the modern, entertainment-driven model of church up against what I saw in the book of Acts—I was met with dismissal. I was told that the kind of church described in Acts was “all but dead,” an idealistic relic of the past rather than a blueprint for today. And that response only deepened my questions: Why had we strayed so far from it? And why was there so much resistance to returning?

The next few paragraphs provide a brief yet concise overview of how the early church was formed. While not an exhaustive account, they highlight some of the key moments and foundational aspects that shaped its development:

Before 400 AD, the early church looked very different from both the formalized structure that developed later and the modern Sunday morning experience. The church was more decentralized, relational, and often underground due to persecution. Christians primarily met in homes (Romans 16:5, Acts 2:46) rather than in designated church buildings. These were small, intimate gatherings where believers shared meals, prayed, worshiped, and discussed scripture. There were no official clergy as we think of them today. Leadership was based on spiritual gifting (Ephesians 4:11–13) and often included elders (presbyters), deacons, and itinerant apostles or prophets.

As Christianity grew, certain trends began to shape a more formalized church structure. Apostles and prophets gave way to bishops (overseers) who provided stability as false teachings arose (e.g., Gnosticism). By 200 AD, bishops were central leaders in most major cities. As Christianity spread, letters and gospel accounts were shared widely. To maintain doctrinal unity, church leaders began distinguishing inspired writings from others, leading to the development of the New Testament canon. Worship began to include more structured prayers, creeds, and sacraments (like baptism and communion) to unify believers across different regions.

Everything changed when Emperor Constantine legalized Christianity in 313 AD (Edict of Milan). Within a century, Christianity went from an outlawed faith to the dominant religion of the Roman Empire. Instead of meeting in homes, Christians began worshiping in basilicas (Roman public buildings repurposed as churches). Bishops gained more authority, eventually leading to the rise of the papacy in Rome. The church became intertwined with the state. By 380 AD, Emperor Theodosius made Christianity the official state religion (Edict of Thessalonica), enforcing doctrinal unity. To settle theological disputes, church leaders convened councils (e.g., Nicaea in 325 AD, Constantinople in 381 AD), establishing foundational Christian doctrines like the Trinity.

At the end of the day, I think the formalized structure was created for three reasons: to combat heresy, to maintain order, and to gain legitimacy. (This does not take into account any nefarious agendas.) But, when the church transitioned from a decentralized, organic movement to an institutionalized structure, several key aspects of early Christianity were diminished or lost:

  1. Intimate, Relational Community → Replaced by Large, Institutional Gatherings
    • The early church thrived in small, house-based gatherings where believers shared life together, breaking bread, confessing struggles, and supporting one another.
    • As church buildings and formalized services took over, faith became more about attendance rather than participation, leading to a loss of deep, personal relationships.
  2. Spirit-Led, Participatory Worship → Replaced by Spectator-Based Services
    • In the first-century church, everyone could bring something to the gathering—songs, teachings, prophecies (1 Corinthians 14:26).
    • Over time, worship became structured, performance-driven, and clergy-led, making most people passive observers rather than active participants.
  3. Radical Generosity & Shared Resources → Replaced by Institutional Funding Models
    • The early church lived out radical generosity, sharing all things in common (Acts 2:44-45).
    • When Christianity became the state religion, financial giving was redirected toward maintaining church buildings, clergy salaries, and institutional programs, rather than directly supporting those in need.
  4. Mission & Discipleship → Replaced by Doctrine & Authority Structures
    • Originally, Christianity spread through discipleship and personal witness, with ordinary believers carrying the gospel wherever they went.
    • As the church formalized, hierarchical leadership and doctrinal enforcement became the focus, shifting the emphasis from making disciples to maintaining theological orthodoxy.
  5. Countercultural Kingdom Mindset → Replaced by Political & Cultural Alignment
    • Early Christians were outsiders, often persecuted because their faith clashed with the Roman Empire’s values.
    • When Christianity became a state-sponsored religion (4th century), it gained power and influence—but at the cost of its radical, countercultural nature. The church started aligning with political structures rather than challenging them.

Again, this isn’t an exhaustive list, and it’s definitely an oversimplification of some deeply complex historical shifts. However, it highlights key ways in which the early church evolved—and, in some cases, drifted from its original intent. The goal isn’t to romanticize the past but to recognize where we may have lost something valuable and consider how we can reclaim the heart of authentic, transformative faith today.

So, as I begin the second half of this journey, here are a few of the things I’ll be pondering:

How Can We Recover What Was Lost?

  1. Rebuild Authentic Community
    • Shift focus from large services to smaller, more intimate gatherings where real relationships can form.
    • Emphasize discipleship over attendance, encouraging deep, personal investment in each other’s lives.
  2. Redirect Resources to People, Not Programs
    • Focus on meeting tangible needs rather than maintaining expensive buildings or extravagant productions.
    • Challenge the consumer mindset by fostering generosity and mutual support.
  3. Return to Grassroots Discipleship & Mission
    • Equip believers to live out their faith daily instead of depending on professional clergy for spiritual growth.
    • Shift from church as a place to go to church as a way of life, where discipleship happens everywhere, not just on Sundays.
  4. Reclaim the Church’s Prophetic Voice
    • Refuse to let political and cultural power dictate the church’s message.
    • Return to a radical, kingdom-centered faith that prioritizes justice, mercy, and truth over institutional preservation.

You know… easy stuff!

CHALLENGE: Spend some time thinking—and talking with others—about what you believe the church is meant to be. Is it a building? A gathering? A movement? A family? How does your understanding of church align with what you see in Scripture, especially in the book of Acts?

Then, take it a step further: If you could strip away tradition, expectations, and modern structures, what would the church look like in its purest form? And what small steps can you take to live that out in your own community?

Week 24: Something to Hope for?

by Searching For Jesus in America

Who: Rachel

Church: Rise Church Chattanooga

Lunch: Starbucks

Topic: The difference between unity and uniformity.

One of the things I love most about Chattanooga is how deeply interconnected this community is. It often feels like there’s just one degree of separation between everyone—whether through mutual friends, shared projects, or local organizations. This tight-knit nature creates a sense of collaboration and belonging that makes it easier to build relationships, rally support for important causes, and foster meaningful change.

Of course, this interconnectedness has its pros and cons. On the positive side, it allows for stronger partnerships, faster word-of-mouth advocacy, and a greater sense of shared responsibility for the well-being of the city. But it also means that everyone seemingly knows everyone, and maintaining authenticity, humility, and grace in our relationships is crucial. In a community where faith is lived out alongside one another, trust is built—or damaged—by how we reflect Christ in our words and actions.

I met Rachel last month at a networking event at Chattanooga Girls Leadership Academy, and from the moment we started talking, it was clear—she’s one of those rare people who truly embraces life in a way that’s contagious. There’s an undeniable energy and warmth about her, the kind that makes you feel like anything is possible. Whether through her work, her conversations, or the way she carries herself, she exudes a sense of purpose and joy. And, honestly, I have absolutely no idea how the topic of church same up, but it did.

So, I invited myself to join her one Sunday and she enthusiastically agreed.

Rachel attends Rise Church in Red Bank, a newer church plant known for its commitment to service and outreach. With Sunday services taking place at Red Bank Middle School, Rise Church places a strong emphasis on community engagement, often partnering with local organizations to serve and support those in need. I also want to take this moment to say that churches meeting in community spaces are near and dear to my heart because they reflect the very essence of what the church was always meant to be—not confined within four walls, but embedded in the heart of the community. There’s something deeply meaningful about worshiping in a school cafeteria, an event hall, a coffee shop, or even a park—places that, throughout the week, are filled with the rhythms of everyday life. These churches create a tangible reminder that faith isn’t about a building; it’s about people, connection, and presence.

During our conversation after the service, Rachel and I spent a lot of time talking about the current political climate and its growing impact on the church. We talked about how politics has increasingly woven itself into the fabric of church culture, influencing not only the way people engage with their faith but also how they perceive and interact with one another. For instance, when I see someone wearing a red Make America Great Again hat when I visit a church, which has happened several times over the past five months, it immediately sparks a mix of thoughts. It’s not just a hat—it’s a symbol that carries layers of meaning, depending on who you ask. I find myself wondering: What does this person believe the church should stand for? Do they see faith and politics as intertwined? How do they view those who might not share their perspective?

It’s not about making assumptions, but rather acknowledging that political identity has become deeply embedded in church spaces, sometimes shaping theology just as much as scripture does. I wrestle with how to engage in conversations that are honest yet full of grace, seeking to understand rather than assume. Because at the end of the day, the church isn’t supposed to be a place where political allegiance overshadows the gospel, but a place where all people—regardless of background, party, or belief—can come together in pursuit of Christ.

Moments like this remind me why it’s so important to pay attention to what’s being said in our churches and by those who claim to follow Jesus. Are we shaping our faith to fit our politics, or allowing our faith to shape how we engage with the world? Are we making room for the hard conversations, or letting division quietly settle in? These are questions I don’t have all the answers to, but I do know that if the church is to remain a place of truth, love, and transformation, we have to be willing to ask them.

There’s no denying that the polarization we see in the world has made its way into many church communities, shaping everything from sermons to relationships to outreach efforts. Some congregations have leaned further into political identity, while others have struggled to navigate the tension between faith and partisanship. Rachel and I wrestled with questions like: How do we stay rooted in Christ when so many voices are trying to define what Christianity should look like? How do we foster spaces where people feel safe to wrestle with hard questions rather than pressured to conform to a political ideology?

It was refreshing to talk with someone who, like me, values both faith and critical thinking, who isn’t afraid to grapple with the complexities of what it means to follow Jesus in this moment. Conversations like this remind me that even in uncertain times, there are people who are committed to seeking truth, loving well, and keeping Christ at the center of it all. It was refreshing and encouraging to attend another church service where faith took center stage, rather than political ideology. In a time when so many churches seem to intertwine their theology with partisan beliefs, it’s a relief to walk into a space where worship, scripture, and community are the defining aspects of the church’s identity—not political affiliations or culture wars.

There’s something deeply meaningful about gathering with believers who are focused on Christ above all else, creating a space where people from different backgrounds and perspectives can come together in pursuit of something greater than political alignment. It reminded me that the church’s mission has never been about championing a particular party or ideology, but about embodying the love, justice, and truth of Jesus—a mission that transcends any political moment.

Rachel acknowledged that members of Rise hold differing political beliefs, but that the church has made a conscious effort to prioritize what unites them, rather than what divides them. The focus is on living out the teachings of Jesus, loving others with grace, and building community around a shared faith. This approach, she explained, allows people from all walks of life to feel like they have a place at the table, regardless of their political affiliations. 

In our current political climate, it can feel nearly impossible to avoid the pull of partisan politics, especially when so many churches have been swept into these divisions. But Rachel’s insight reminded me of the beauty of a community that chooses to focus on loving others regardless of where people stand on political issues. It’s this kind of church that offers hope—that regardless of the external turbulence of the world, we can still find unity, peace, and purpose in our shared faith.