Tag: politics

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 31: When Flawed and Misleading Ideas Take Root (Part 5 of 5)

by Searching For Jesus in America

This week’s post concludes a five-part series on Christian Nationalism, focusing on one Chattanooga church actively embracing the movement. (I will be unpacking all my thoughts in next week’s post.) Through their efforts to “educate, equip, and empower” their congregation, Calvary Chapel Chattanooga is blurring the lines between faith and politics, raising critical questions about the role of churches in civic engagement and the ethical boundaries they may be crossing. This is why I thought it fitting to hear directly from one of their congregants in this final post.

At its core, bad teaching is just that—bad teaching. But the real issue lies in what happens next. When flawed or misleading ideas take root, they can shape perspectives, influence decisions, and drive actions with lasting consequences. The danger isn’t just in the misinformation itself, but in how it’s internalized, spread, and weaponized to justify harmful ideologies or policies.

One particular member of their congregation was brought to the stage where she shared how January 2019 was her “tipping point”, bring her to the forefront of political engagement. She specifically referenced former Governor Cuomo signing the Reproductive Health Act (RHA) in New York, which she said allowed abortion up until the ninth month “basically to kill the baby up until birth.” She followed this up with the assertion that “all the ladies were clapping and laughing” at this news on social media.

For those unfamiliar with the Reproductive Health Act (RHA), which updated New York’s abortion laws, it covered the following:

  • Codified Roe v. Wade into state law, ensuring the right to abortion in New York even if federal protections were overturned.
  • Expanded access to abortion after 24 weeks if the fetus was nonviable or if the pregnancy endangered the woman’s life or health.
  • Decriminalized abortion by removing it from the state’s criminal code and treating it as a medical issue.

The claim that the law allowed the killing of babies is a misrepresentation. The law did not permit infanticide or the killing of newborns. It focused on allowing later-term abortions in rare cases where the fetus could not survive outside the womb or when the mother’s life or health was at serious risk.

For context, I think it’s important to provide an accurate perspective on how common abortions are after 24 weeks. The availability of abortion services after 24 weeks gestation in the United States is limited and varies by state due to differing laws and regulations. According to a 2023 study by Advancing New Standards in Reproductive Health (ANSIRH), approximately 60 clinics across the country provided abortions at or after 24 weeks gestation. Of these, only five clinics offered services at or after 28 weeks.

What a lot of people don’t realize is that ​obtaining an abortion after 28 weeks gestation in the United States is rare and subject to stringent protocols that vary by state and individual clinic policies. Generally, these late-term procedures are considered only under exceptional circumstances, such as:​

  • Serious risks to the pregnant individual’s health or life: Situations where continuing the pregnancy poses a substantial threat to the physical health or survival of the pregnant person.
  • Severe fetal anomalies: Conditions where the fetus is diagnosed with life-threatening or significantly debilitating abnormalities.​

Additionally, The specific approval process for an abortion after 28 weeks typically involves:​

  • Informed consent: Providing the patient with detailed information about the procedure, potential risks, and available alternatives to ensure an informed decision.
  • Comprehensive medical evaluation: A thorough assessment by healthcare professionals to document the medical necessity of the procedure.​
  • Consultation with specialists: Engagement with experts in maternal-fetal medicine, neonatology, or other relevant fields to corroborate the diagnosis and prognosis.​
  • Ethics committee review: Some institutions may require the case to be presented to an ethics committee to ensure that the decision aligns with ethical and legal standards.​

I could go into more detail on this—and maybe I will in another post—but for now, I want to share one important perspective. Having known women who have faced the heartbreaking reality of losing a pregnancy in their second or third trimester, I’ve witnessed firsthand the depth of their pain and the difficult choices they’ve had to make. These were parents who desperately wanted their children. Their nurseries were ready, tiny clothes folded neatly in drawers, names already chosen. And yet, in one instance, the life they dreamed of turned into a nightmare. Their insurance barely covered any of the associated costs—let alone the burden of traveling out of state because only a handful of clinics in the U.S. could provide the care they needed.

This never seems to be a perspective Christian Nationalists consider when they frame abortion as a matter of convenience or selfishness. They don’t seem to see the mothers and fathers who prayed for their child, who felt every kick with joy, who decorated nurseries with love—only to be told that their baby would not survive outside the womb, or that continuing the pregnancy could cost the mother her life.

They don’t acknowledge the impossible choices these families face, the grief of saying goodbye before they even got to say hello, or the devastation of navigating a medical system that often adds financial and logistical burdens to an already unbearable situation. Instead, they paint with broad strokes, reducing complex, deeply personal medical decisions to political talking points—ignoring the very real suffering of the people caught in the middle.

When complex, deeply personal issues involving suffering are reduced to political talking points, we are called to approach the situation with humility and a willingness to listen. Jesus consistently responded to suffering with empathy and care, reminding us to carry each other’s burdens (Galatians 6:2) and to be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger (James 1:19). While we should stand firm in biblical convictions, we must also model Christ’s grace, recognizing that every person’s story is unique and cannot be reduced to broad generalizations. Rather than contributing to division, we are called to be peacemakers (Matthew 5:9), fostering thoughtful dialogue and engaging in meaningful action to address suffering (James 2:15-17). Ultimately, our faith should compel us to uplift those in pain, ensuring our words and actions reflect Christ’s heart—full of both truth and compassion.

The second issue I find concerning is Calvary’s strong attachment to political figures, both among its leadership and congregants. What I found most disconcerting was this congregants adoration, even idolization, of Charlie Kirk. (And there were more than a few hollers of support when she asked “Who else follows Charlie Kirk?”) She encouraged people to attend his Turning Point Conferences and shared her own experience and how her life “radically, radically changed” after attending a conference herself.

Her words, not mine.

She explained how she met a young, female student at the conference who shared her experience of being ostracized at her school because of her association with Turning Point. She mentioned how the “leftists” would walk by tables and pour out drinks and spray bear spray. The congregant talked about how this interaction made her realize she couldn’t be quiet anymore, which also garnered her a round of applause.

She also mentioned meeting Rudy Giuliani, shaking his hand, and getting a picture of him, which she followed up with, “You never know what God has in store for you, if you just do what He asks you to do.” This is problematic for a few reasons. Giuliani is, at the very least, a polarizing figure, particularly due to his legal controversies and involvement in promoting false claims about the 2020 election. (The leader of the Civics + Culture Ministry openly shared his belief that Biden did not win the 2020 Presidential election.) The comment could be seen as endorsing or aligning with a controversial individual, which may alienate those who view him negatively. But, more importantly, the use of religious language to justify meeting or engaging with someone like Giuliani might suggest divine approval of actions that many find ethically or morally questionable. This can come across as an attempt to use religion as a means to support a specific political stance, potentially alienating others who do not share the same views.

I bring all this up because it underscores a troubling (and growing) movement in our country… in our churches: the merging of faith and political ideology in a way that elevates partisan loyalty over theological integrity.

This movement doesn’t just encourage political engagement; it promotes an interpretation of Christianity that is inseparable from a specific political identity. It creates an environment where following figures like Charlie Kirk or Rudy Giuliani becomes synonymous with being a “faithful Christian,” and where questioning this alignment is seen as a threat—not just to political beliefs, but to one’s standing within the faith community itself.

The implications of this are significant. When churches become platforms for political figures and organizations, they risk turning worship spaces into ideological echo chambers rather than places of spiritual formation. Faith becomes a tool for political mobilization rather than a transformative relationship with God that transcends party lines.

Even more concerning is how this fusion of politics and faith often fosters an “us vs. them” mentality, where those who hold different political beliefs are not just ideological opponents, but moral, or even spiritual, enemies. The congregant’s story about the student at the Turning Point conference illustrates this well—there was no questioning of the broader narrative, no curiosity about why some students might react negatively to Turning Point’s presence. Instead, the persecution complex was reinforced, strengthening the belief that being a “true Christian” means standing against a monolithic and hostile “leftist” enemy.

This trend is growing, and it’s deeply shaping the way many American Christians understand their faith. It’s one thing to bring faith into the public sphere, to engage in politics with a Christ-centered conscience. It’s another thing entirely to reshape Christianity to fit the mold of a political movement—one that thrives on division, fear, and an ever-tightening definition of who belongs.

They closed out this session talking about Intercessors for America (IFA), a Christian organization focused on intercessory prayer for the United States. Their mission is to mobilize Christians to pray for the country’s leaders, government, and key issues affecting the nation. The organization believes that prayer is a powerful tool to influence positive change in America and that Christians have a responsibility to intercede on behalf of their nation.

However, this organization is not without controversy.

IFA’s focus on national repentance, spiritual warfare, and the promotion of Christian nationalism has led to concerns about marginalizing non-Christian groups and promoting exclusionary views. The group’s association with far-right evangelical movements and its emphasis on America’s Christian identity has further sparked debates about the role of religion in politics.

In her closing remarks, the leader of the workshop said, “But, at the end of the day, ya know, my allegiance is to the Lord… at the end of the day, I have to put my head down on the pillow and know that I served Him, that I reflected Him.”

The problematic aspect of this statement lies in its use of religious language to reinforce a political stance while implying divine endorsement of a particular ideology. Given the broader context of the workshop—where figures like Charlie Kirk and Rudy Giuliani were praised, where political activism was framed as a Christian duty, and where skepticism toward the legitimacy of the 2020 election was openly expressed—this statement serves as a rhetorical shield.

By saying, “My allegiance is to the Lord,” the leader positions herself as spiritually above reproach, suggesting that her political actions and affiliations are inherently righteous. This discourages critical engagement or dissent because questioning her stance could be perceived as questioning God’s will.

Additionally, the phrase “I have to put my head down on the pillow and know that I served Him” implies that her activism—aligned with a specific political movement—is a direct act of faithfulness to God. This subtly reinforces the idea that opposing viewpoints are not just politically different but spiritually deficient. It further blurs the line between faith and partisanship, making it difficult for those who hold different political perspectives to feel fully included in the faith community.

Ultimately, the statement is problematic because it frames political allegiance as a measure of faithfulness, contributing to the growing trend of Christian Nationalism, where political identity and religious identity become inseparable.

(PLEASE NOTE: Next week’s post will be, in a way, my response to the last five posts and to the leader’s assertion that “We’re hated because of our conservative Christian values.”)

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 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 19: The Incongruence of Our Faith and Our Politics

by Searching For Jesus in America

I’m writing this in the early morning hours of January 6th after living through the worst “vacation” of my life. Jamie and I have spent the last three nights in a separate hotel room from our kids, quarantined away because I haven’t been able to keep anything down, hardly able to leave the bed…which has given me MORE than enough time to experience my fill of political commentary over the past few days. And after hours of tossing and turning in the early hours of this morning, I decided to do something I told myself I wouldn’t do… write about politics.

This is a topic our family often discusses—the incongruence of our faith and our politics. It’s a complex and deeply personal conversation, but I’ll start with a simple truth: no political party fully represents my faith, and no system of government can encapsulate the essence of what I believe. Faith, in its truest form, transcends the limitations of human institutions.

You’ll often hear statements like, “Jesus would be a socialist.” And, while I understand the sentiment—that Jesus valued care for the poor, community, and justice—the statement itself reveals a misunderstanding of His mission. Jesus wasn’t here to advocate, or live, for a particular political ideology; He was here to transform hearts, lives, and the way we relate to God and each other. Reducing His radical love and teachings to a political framework, whether socialist, capitalist, or any other system, misses the point.

Faith calls us to something higher, something that exists beyond the confines of political constructs. It challenges us to engage with the world in ways that reflect grace, compassion, and justice—not because of a political platform but because of a kingdom perspective. And when our politics conflict with our faith, it’s an invitation to reassess, realign, and remember that our ultimate allegiance lies not with any party, but with the God who calls us to love others as He has loved us.

Having said that… I feel today is an anniversary that needs attention, especially when it comes to my project.

Four years ago, January 6th became a turning point that reshaped the fabric of American life. It wasn’t just the day itself—the violence, the chaos, the stark display of division—but the ripple effects that have continued to unfold since. It marked a moment when deep political divides became impossible to ignore, driving wedges between loved ones, testing relationships, and challenging long-held beliefs.

Christian nationalism surged into the spotlight, blending faith with political ideology in ways that left countless Christians questioning what it truly means to follow Jesus in a polarized nation. I still remember sitting on our couch, watching the day unfold, and periodically seeing huge posters of Jesus—some even depicting Him wearing the infamous red “Make America Great Again” hat. It felt surreal, like I was watching a scene from a dystopian movie where faith and politics had been twisted into something unrecognizable. The Jesus I had grown up learning about—the one who preached love, humility, and service to others—seemed so far removed from the figure being co-opted and displayed as a symbol of power, dominance, and exclusion.

I couldn’t shake the disconnect. The juxtaposition of violent rhetoric, stormed barricades, and claims of divine endorsement left me questioning how we had arrived at this moment. It was as if the core message of Christianity—grace, mercy, and sacrificial love—had been buried beneath a heavy layer of nationalism, fear, and political tribalism. And in that moment, I couldn’t help but wonder how many people watching this unfold might walk away from faith altogether, unable to reconcile this version of “Jesus” with the one they’d once believed in.

And, in the years that followed… the answer was way more than I ever could have imagined.

For me, that day became a turning point. It forced me to examine what it means to truly follow Jesus in a world where His name is so often used to justify actions that seem completely contrary to His teachings. It sparked an uncomfortable but necessary journey of reflection—on faith, identity, and the ways we’ve allowed politics to shape our understanding of God instead of the other way around.

Family gatherings became battlegrounds for debates about truth, values, and loyalty, with political affiliations often taking precedence over shared histories and relationships. The idea of unity felt increasingly elusive as communities fractured along ideological lines.

This wasn’t just about politics, though. It was about identity and core values—about who we are as individuals, families, and a nation. Questions that had simmered under the surface for decades boiled over: What does it mean to be a Christian in America? Can faith and politics coexist without compromising one or the other? How do we rebuild trust when so much of our shared foundation feels shaken?

In the years since, these challenges have forced many of us to reevaluate everything—our relationships, our priorities, and even our faith. The events of January 6th didn’t just reveal what was broken; they offered an unflinching look at the work that lies ahead. And here I sit, reflecting on all of this in a hotel room far from my kids, sick in body but also in heart, realizing how much healing our families, communities, and nation still need.

Last night, I moved myself to the living area, curled up in a chair, and told Jamie the most hopeless, but honest, thing I’ve said in a while: “I just don’t know if it’s ever going to get better.” The weight of everything—politics, division, the state of the world—felt like too much to bear. It wasn’t just the big, global issues either; it was the everyday, relentless drumbeat of tension and uncertainty.

And the truth is simple… it might not.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt the sting of how raw they were. I’ve always been someone who holds on to hope, even in the darkest moments, but this time, I couldn’t muster it. Jamie didn’t say much; he didn’t need to. Sometimes, the most powerful response is just sitting in the silence together, acknowledging the heaviness without trying to fix it.

But even in that moment of despair, something unexpected happened. As the quiet stretched on, I started to think about the little glimmers of light that still break through the cracks—the genuine conversations I’ve had with neighbors, the small acts of kindness I’ve witnessed, the resilience I see in people determined to make their communities better.

And that is where hope lives, not in some sweeping, magical solution that fixes everything overnight… like the election of a politician… but in the small, steady reminders that goodness still exists. It’s in the choice to keep showing up, even when it feels futile, and in the belief that light, no matter how faint, can grow.

So while I may have been honest in my hopelessness, I’m also determined not to stay there. Because if I’ve learned anything, it’s that hope often starts as a flicker in the darkest of rooms—and sometimes, that’s all we need to keep going.