The first clue which tipped me to the relationship between these two ideas was that the people I saw buying antisemitic conspiracy theories and unsubstantiated libel against Israel and Jews also embrace political isolationism, believing America should cut ties with her allies, withdraw from the global stage, and retreat from any notions of friendship with other nations. The opposite was also true — that is, I noticed that the most stridently isolationist folks are also inclined to have contempt for Israel and Jews. Empirically, it’s almost a perfect Venn diagram.

It might be most obvious to assume that the relationship between these two ideas is fairly face-value: prejudice against Jews tends to go hand-in-hand with political animosity toward the state of Israel. But the isolationism I have observed is not motivated exclusively by Israel. This is what made me want to think deeper about the connection. The isolationist camp is often characterized by an attitude of disdain for European nations, condescension toward historic political allies and trading partners (notably, Commonwealth nations), and the belief that America owes nothing to anyone. There’s a sense in which this latter point is true: legally and morally, America is not indebted to anyone. No one is entitled to our financial aid, protection, or intervention. But there is another aspect to indebtedness that is often overlooked: ideological indebtedness.

This is where the pieces began to come together for me in understanding the relationship between antisemitism and isolationism. Beneath both of these attitudes is an ignorance or denial of the ideological indebtedness of Christians and Americans to the Jewish people and to the Commonwealth, respectively. It’s an organic indebtedness that is simply the result of inheritance. Christianity exists because of the Jewish people (the ethnic nation of Israel). We worship the God of the Jewish scriptures, who executed His plan of salvation through the Jews. We follow the Jewish Messiah, who fulfilled Jewish prophecy. We obey the ten commandments, which provided the structure for Judaism’s moral law — this is why the term Judeo-Christianity exists. Christianity is a fulfillment of what it means to be Jewish.

Similarly, America was the brainchild of the Anglosphere — not simply because her founders came from England, but because the ideas which inspired the earliest American creeds came from early British thought — the magna carta, the sacredness of property, the proper role of government, and the meaning of liberty. In fact, some historians have argued that the primary grievance of the United States’ founders was England’s failure to uphold British ideas consistently — and that the motivation for their project was to establish a fuller realization of these British ideas. Madison, Jefferson, Hamilton & Co. weren’t trying to break free from Britishness and invent something new; they were trying to be as British as possible. In a very real sense, the American creed is a fulfillment of British political philosophy.

It’s important to note here that both Christianity’s derivation from Judaism and America’s derivation from the Anglosphere are not conditional on the teachings of modern Judaism or the current policies of the United Kingdom. In other words, to say that Christianity is a fulfillment of Judaism is not to say that the teachings of Judaism are consistent with Christianity, just as America’s being a zenith of British political philosophy does not mean that the current policies of Britain consistently reflect the values of the United States. However, it does mean two things. One: you would not have Christianity without the Jewish people and faith, and you would not have America without Britain. Two: a derivative relationship between two religions or nations produces ideological overlap which makes animosity between them foolish.

Many Christians would disagree with me here, but I believe that it is natural for a Christian to feel a particular kinship with or burden for the Jewish people. Certainly, we desire all people from all religions to come to faith in Christ, and we regard anyone who isn’t in Christ as equally lost. But when I read the Bible, I am seeing the unfolding of God’s metanarrative — one which begins with the calling of the Jewish nation, and reaches a narrative peak with the Jewish Messiah, who observed the Jewish religion and law, and wept with particular grief over Jerusalem and the nation of Israel at their rejection of Him. There is something especially stirring to me about hearing of Jews who come to recognize Jesus as their Messiah — and who often remark that coming to Christ felt like a fulfillment of their Jewishness. I’m not advocating for favoritism in our treatment of Jews vis a vis other religions or ethnicities, but I do believe it is only rational to recognize the ideological overlap that exists between Christian and Jewish tradition, evidenced in basic moral law and shared foundation of scripture. And it is only natural to feel particular burden for the salvation of the people with whom we share this heritage.

In the same way, when I visit the United Kingdom or read British literature, I feel a kinship with the body of cultural and political philosophy it produced. These are my cousins; they are not entitled to my self-flagellating favoritism, but it would be ignorant of me not to acknowledge that I owe my language, my culture, and my belief in the consent of the governed to this island. I also recognize that many of the UK’s policies over the last half-century have departed significantly from John Locke’s proto-American ideas. In particular, many of Britain’s economic and social welfare policies have exacerbated poverty for it’s constituents (approximately 20% of the UK population is in absolute low income or absolute poverty, which is twice the rate of poverty in the US) — and its increasing willingness to censor or punish speech does not exactly reflect the ideals of classical liberalism.

I’m not making the case that the United States is perfect or that it is a consistent bastion of the ideas in its own creeds — it isn’t, and many in the “America First” crowd could use some humility in this department. However, there is a categorical difference in personal liberty between the US and the UK, and anyone who believes in freedom and prosperity is right to notice this and critique the policies that created it. But acknowledging the reality of a disease doesn’t require adopting contempt for the diseased. In fact, a prudent response would be to recognize that a half-century of poor domestic policy does not erase hundreds of years of ideological overlap, and that it is in the United States’ best interest to remain a friend and ally to our cousins across the pond. Not out of performative obligation, but because in a multipolar world where there are real enemies to western civilization, friendship with our ideological compatriots benefits us all.

When I see Americans proudly thumbing their noses at the Commonwealth, it strikes me as precisely the same attitude I see in Christians who harbor unique animus and disdain for the Jewish people. Not only is the attitude the same — so is the justification. Commonwealth nations have embraced poor domestic policy not in keeping with the creed of classical liberalism; therefore we ought to disregard our colossal foundation of shared values and spite them in trade, partnership, and cooperation. Jews have rejected the Messiah that their scriptures and prophets foretold; therefore we ought to regard them as uniquely wicked and rejected by God, and dislike for them is reasonable or even warranted. This attitude is unreasonable, unpragmatic, and ungodly.

Many of the most strident antisemites and isolationists I know are raging warriors for western civilization, and speak incessantly about defending and preserving it. But I can’t help wondering where they believe western civilization came from. Do they believe it emerged out of a vacuum in 1776? Do they believe that God’s moral law has only existed since 33AD? If you love western civilization and desire its success, you cannot have contempt for its origins. If you do, you are seeking to cut off the very root of the tree from which you benefit. Romans 11 issues a warning to gentile Christians, instructing them not to become arrogant toward the unbelieving nation of Israel — a warning which an increasing cohort of Christians ought to heed with trembling. I think a similar warning can be applied to Americans who want western values, but seem content to cut off or spite our Commonwealth allies. Don’t be arrogant, and don’t forget where you came from. Remember your ideological indebtedness — and use it for the good of the gospel and your civilization.

Eat, Drink, & Be Merry: A gospel call to bold enjoyment, by Ray Ortlund

This book really blessed me. It’s a study of Ecclesiastes 11 — not academic, but substantive enough to sink your teeth into. What I appreciated most was how Ray applies the themes of Ecclesiastes to the present, everyday lives of young adults (the primary intended audience). He extracts the biblical principles of seeking joy and pleasure, presenting a polemic to the puritanical, ascetic attitude that is too common in the Church. The Christian life is not meant to be a greyscale, unaspiring, exercise in solemnity. While enjoyment requires wisdom, we shouldn’t let fear of hedonism keep us from the biblical pursuit of happiness.

The Medieval Mind of CS Lewis: How great books shaped a great mind, by Jason M. Baxter

My most intellectually stimulating read of the last several months; this book is a deep-dive into an often-overlooked aspect of Lewis’ identity. More than he was anything, and before he was anything, CS Lewis was a medievalist. If you’ve read much Lewis at all, you are probably aware of his proclivity toward medieval literature and cosmology — but this book thoroughly surveys a man who was not simply inspired by bygone poets and astronomers — but actually formed by them, so much that his entire body of creative and philosophical work may as well be an homage to Boethius. Baxter’s prose perfectly fits the Lewisian atmosphere and will give you a clearer portrait of the genius behind the genius.

Redeeming Justice: Reclaiming God’s vision for doing good in the world, by Christina Crenshaw

Christina is one of my favorite Christian intellectuals, and in the few years I have followed her, she has been one of the most reasonable, balanced, morally clear engagers with the topic of justice. I would recommend this book as a primer on how Christians should think about and pursue social justice from a biblical perspective, especially if you’re unfamiliar with how secular social justice differs from biblical justice. It’s both a philosophical survey and a polemic call to action, and avoids the pitfalls of reactionism and compromise, which tend to plague the political right and left, respectively.

Superforecasting: The art and science of prediction, by Philip Tatlock and Dan Gardner

Easily one of the most thought-provoking nonfiction books I’ve read. I have an inordinate interest in demographics, statistics, and the “why” behind human behavior, and this scratched my itch. It reminds me of a Malcolm Gladwell book, but heavier on researched application than probing journalism. The author asks why some people are better than others at predicting events or outcomes, but it doesn’t stop at qualitative speculation. He uses his experience testing the phenomenon of “superforecasters” to share objective practices, skills, and habits that lead people to better and more accurate predictions.

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This article from Mike Cosper encapsulates so much of what I wish to say amidst the rising antisemitism around the world and in the Church.

Another article I came across in the oasis that is the Substack algorithm — this is such a necessary polemic at a time when underachievement is the norm in Church, and poverty or lack of professional ambition is branded as piety.

This piece by Peggy Noonan for the WSJ (whose editorial page is perhaps my favorite on the internet alongside The Free Press) on the Trump Admin’s current reputation, the slippery slope of government corruption, and the unprincipled error of accepting it “on your own side.”

This analysis by Christopher Kuehl on Zionism and the Church fathers — in which he makes the underrepresented but necessary point that Zionism/belief in spiritual promises yet to be fulfilled for the Jewish people is not an invention of Dispensationalism.

In June, Space X went public— which resulted in founder and tech entrepreneur Elon Musk officially crossing the threshold from billionaire to trillionaire. When I think of that number, I kind of just have a blank screen in my mind. It’s hard to conceive of what that level of wealth actually is. However, I have a pretty good idea of what it isn’t, and since most of the outrage is based on an incorrect conception of wealth, it bears clearing up. Most of the left-wing activists who are outraged at the existence of the ultra-wealthy make one principal error: they believe that all the wealth in the world is a fixed pie.

According to this view, if one person has a lot of money, it follows that other people have less, and that there is therefore something inherently exploitative about wealth inequality. This is the reason many progressives harbor personal animus toward the ultra-wealthy; according to the fixed-pie paradigm, their wealth is making others poorer, and they became wealthy by taking money from others. (One exception is progressive politicians, who enjoy Congressional salaries and insider trading benefits while harping about citizen millionaires, apparently unfazed by the cognitive dissonance.)

But the fixed-pie paradigm is incorrect. It isn’t how wealth works. In a free market, capitalist system, wealth is a dynamic variable. It can be created and it can be multiplied — which is precisely how most millionaires in America become wealthy. Elon is pretty standard in his path to outsized wealth — he just happened to have an even more lucrative idea than most. Another faulty notion that needs correcting is that all wealth is liquid. Many people seem to think that Elon is sitting on a pile of one trillion dollar bills, like Smaug in his lair, or that he has one trillion dollars sitting in a bank, which he could easily withdraw and send to Gaza. Elon’s worth, like Jeff Bezos or Bill Gates, is not the same as liquid cash. It’s tied up in the equity he holds in his companies, which means it’s subject to dramatic fluctuation. If customers and investors no longer judge his companies’ products as valuable, then their stock and Elon’s worth could be zeroed out tomorrow. Many people don’t understand the inherent risk attached to these levels of net worth. Illustratively, at the of time of writing this, the value of SpaceX has fallen below initial IPO pricing in public markets, and Elon is no longer a trillionaire. Is he now marginally less evil?

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The cause of evangelical disenchantment

Evangelicalism’s hyper-individualistic emphasis is reinforcing the crisis of self-referential identity and young people are desperate to escape.

In his 2020 book, The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self, Dr. Carl Trueman examines the origins of expressive individualism1, which he posits as a motivating philosophy of post-modernism and the primary identity lens of the last several decades. In describing how expressive individualism has transformed our concept of self and identity, he gives an example that has captivated me since I first read the book. He explains that if you had asked his blue-collar grandfather with a factory job whether he had job satisfaction, he might first of all be confused by the question, and second of all responded that his job was worthwhile because it provided for the needs of his family. In contrast, Dr. Trueman points out that if you asked the same question of him, he’d be inclined to answer differently — instead focusing on how internally fulfilling his job was and how much it validated his authentic concept of self.

The larger point Trueman makes in this passage is that where identity used to be externally-referential and grounded in obligation to others, it is now internally referential and grounded in self-actualization and gratification. To translate to a personal example, if you had asked my great-grandfather who he was, he would have answered that he was a Prussian by heritage, a White Army veteran, a Canadian by citizenship, a husband to his wife, a father to three, and a member of the local Lutheran church. In other words, his identifying markers would have been external to himself, unrelated to personal feelings and based in both his inheritance and his obligation. While I like to think of myself as decidedly not post-modern in my philosophical beliefs, I’m afraid that my answers to the same question would be regrettably self-referential. I would be inclined to answer based on my own personality traits or interests. Ask the average young person today who they are and you’ll likely receive a long list of identifiers that includes things like “anxious, introverted, gamer, enneagram 6, manga afficionado.” Our society has lost its sense of inheritance and obligation, and as a result, its external anchors.

This has resulted in a reality that feels increasingly unstable and unmoored. I believe the current cohort of young adults, who comprise the first generation of true natives to a digital and externally anchor-less world, are reeling from the effects. Many have learned firsthand that a perpetually online, myopically self-referential existence leaves you not only burnt-out, but actually less connected to your humanity. It isn’t merely speculative to assume that one of the most attractive aspects to liturgical faith expressions is their historicity, their physicality, and their corporatism — three things which they find lacking in evangelicalism.

Evangelicalism’s emphasis on personal faith, relationship with God, and individual pursuit of God is not wrong. The trouble is, it has sometimes tended to emphasize these things at the exclusion of corporate participation and collective belonging. Evangelical youth conferences are replete with invitations to make a “personal decision for Christ”, but offer little to no instruction on the blessing and benefits of belonging to the family of God. Similarly, many evangelical churches have an allergy to analog. The average non-denominational church teaches that the Lord’s Supper is purely symbolic, and uses backing tracks in worship. Views on communion and worship style are second or third-order issues, but they do affect how religious practice feels. To a young person who feels unmoored by hyper-individualism, digitization, and artificial intelligence, there is something almost existentially satiating about hearing Psalms sung in acapella chorus, reciting ancient creeds aloud with others, and partaking in the real or spiritually present body of Christ.

Evangelicalism has misjudged what many young people actually care about and focused on the wrong things.

I recently published an essay on the deconstruction phenomenon (read here). In it, I explored how the landscape of agnosticism has changed in the last 25 years. In summary, the Evangelical Church often behaves as though all objections to the Christian faith are of the Richard Dawkins/new atheist tradition, and models its apologetics efforts accordingly. But increasingly, the primary objections to Christianity are totally different, and therefore largely unaddressed by most Christian apologetics efforts. Similarly, the Evangelical Church often expends tremendous energy focusing on the things it believes that young people need or care about, and models its discipleship efforts accordingly. But like the retention rates of Church membership, evangelical disenchantment and liturgical fascination indicate that it isn’t actually capturing young people.

In my essay on deconstruction, I posited that poor theological triage is a primary factor for internal motivations to deconstruct. As an example, a Church that fails to distinguish between essential doctrines like the resurrection and non-essential interpretations like the age of the earth risks pushing folks out from within. I believe this can apply to both deconstruction (folks leaving the faith altogether) and denominational immigration (folks leaving Evangelicalism for another Christian tradition). Catholicism, for instance, maintains a relatively agnostic view on the precise details of creation. Earlier this year, I listened to an episode of Father Mike Schmitz’ Bible In A Year — a Catholic podcast featuring daily scripture readings accompanied by brief pastoral commentary. Commenting on the creation narrative in Genesis, Fr Mike emphasized that the Bible is not a science textbook, and isn’t meant to be used as a geological prooftext. The important thing, he said, is to realize that a sovereign Creator God purposefully, personally created the world and imbued mankind with distinct identity and value.

That’s a notable departure from the typical Evangelical approach, which tends to see Answers In Genesis and Origin of the Species as the only two sources that might inform a person’s perspective on this issue. This isn’t to say that Catholicism is an epitome of theological triage — in fact, many of my own most strident disagreements with the Catholic Church relate to its insistence on the binding nature of non-essential doctrines. But it is interesting that Catholicism and Orthodoxy are exerting a draw on younger generations despite their many additive dogmas. This suggests to me that they are perhaps offering a more compelling perspective on issues that younger folks actually care about or desire from religion. Liturgical traditions are focusing on extracting the spiritual meaning that scripture is communicating more than mechanistically applying scripture as a polemic to modern worldview disputes.

For someone exhausted by the culture war emphasis of evangelicalism or a hyper-fixation on eschatological timelines, accepting the Marian dogmas might be an easy price to pay for a church that talks more about the liturgy of prayer than politics. Whether this is an appropriate judgment is beside the point.

It seems that reverence and “otherness” is the most attractive aspect of these traditions to disenchanted evangelicals, evidenced in the simultaneous uptick of interest in High Church Protestantism, too. In other words, the liturgical fever doesn’t seem to be caused by features of Catholicism or Orthodoxy specifically, as much as general orientation to sacredness and structure, which can also be found in many liturgical Protestant expressions. I’ve often wondered in observing online Christian spaces if many disillusioned Zoomers are a target for whichever liturgical expression gets to them first. For some at least, it may be less about being convinced of Lutheranism or Eastern Orthodoxy specifically, and more about being captured by something that feels transcendent and isn’t non-denominational evangelicalism. I believe Gen Z is most misunderstood when they are believed to be resistant to organized religion; it’s more accurate to believe they are religious nomads, desperate to be captured by a tradition that feels anchoring.

Perhaps the best lesson the Evangelical church can learn here is that sacredness and tradition and liturgy are relevant. Far from seeing them as washed-up relics, younger generations seem to be valuing them at higher rates than the youth of previous ages. The cultural climate has created a gaping hole uniquely sized for religion. Rather than doubling down on modernization or similitude with popular culture, churches ought to focus on the simple rituals of corporate faith. Contrary to what Evangelicalism has long believed, people want something that feels like religion — young people especially.

Evangelicalism has seen outreach as at odds with sacredness and sacrificed the latter for the former, leaving congregants unsatisfied and seekers uninspired.

Perhaps the oldest, most erroneous notion that has plagued the modern Evangelical church is that sacredness is unappealing and ineffective for outreach. But this idea, combined with Evangelicalism’s emphasis on proselytization, has resulted in the near-erasure of reverence and ritual from many churches. The modus operandi for many non-denominational churches has been: “If we want to get people in the door, we have to play it cool and seem chill.” In fact, this approach has done more harm than good, for two primary reasons.

First, “coolness” is overrated. A culturally relevant worship band might be an exciting attraction, but it won’t be the thing that actually causes an encounter with Christ or cultivates Jesus’ unglamourous call to follow Him. If 2000’s CCM and the subsequent falling away of many of its artists and fans has proved anything, it’s that “coolness” doesn’t make or keep converts. In retrospect, almost every believer my age can think of at least a few people whose supposed commitment to Christ turned out to be the residual of a cool concert experience. In contrast, peers of mine who are still following Jesus, involved in the Church, and growing in their faith aren’t that way because of a really cool youth retreat or a Christian singer with cool hair. Their faith was watered, sustained, and grown through actual religion — corporate worship, prayer, studying scripture, and community with other believers.

Second, Christianity isn’t chill — and acting like it is sets up false expectations for discipleship. I believe an approach which emphasizes relevance or tries to be chill and unassuming is dishonest. Christianity is none of those things. Following Jesus will make you stick out in the world; it may even make you a target at times. The Christian life is not a laid-back, low-effort venture; it requires a great deal from those who choose it. Christianity isn’t unassuming; it makes diagnostic assumptions about everyone and exclusive assumptions about itself.

If the Christianity advertised is relevant, chill, and unassuming, then there is almost a guarantee its converts will be false.

When religious practice is sacrificed for relational outreach, both converts and congregants suffer. Converts because they are being sold a modified, incomplete version of the faith, and congregants because they are given spiritual milk instead of meat. An urgency for evangelism is not the issue; I am an Evangelical by conviction partly because of my belief in the priority of evangelism. When I read Acts and the epistles, I’m only more convinced of the fundamental proselytizing nature of the Christian faith. The trouble comes when we try to remove religion from our apologetic. The slogan, “Christianity is a relationship, not a religion” is well-intended but misleading. If Evangelicalism desires to see a deepening of roots and a widening of reach, it must start being more religious, not less.

The limits of liturgical longing

Christianity is personal

I believe the phenomena of liturgical interest and fascination is not inherently wrong — and is helpfully diagnostic for non-denominational, Evangelical Christianity. However, like most movements, the feeling of fervor and discovery that accompanies a journey down the rabbit-hole of High Church Christianity can lead to over-rotation if not properly checked. In my observation of this phenomenon online, there are a few slippery points that I want to address.

First, this movement is susceptible to an over-rotation on corporatism, which insists that individual study of scripture or encounters with God are not as legitimate as corporate administration of scripture or collective worship experiences. I’ve seen many posts in circulation from Catholic and even Mainline Protestant apologists warning of the dangers of trying to interpret the Bible alone — apart from the authority of either the Church or dominant historical interpretation, respectively. The emphasis on corporate religion can support the notion that the Christian religion is not personal or individual — that a believer cannot have an individual encounter with God or experience the individual illumination of the Holy Spirit, which allows them to accurately understand God’s Word in solitude as much as side-by-side with others in a pew.

I understand the reaction to hyper-individualistic Christianity, but like anything, it’s just as easy to index too heavily on the other side. In reality, Christianity is both personal and corporate; it is experienced individually and collectively. It cannot be practiced in isolation, and neither can it be fashioned into an impersonal communal pursuit.

The Church is a body before it is an institution

This point is subject to disagreement, and is in fact a defining disagreement of Catholicism or Orthodoxy with Protestant traditions. To a Catholic, the Church is singularly the institution — and its bishops, priests, sacraments, mass, and dogmas. This is a fundamentally different perspective than viewing the Church as the intangible, global body of Christ — made up of those individuals saved by Jesus. In my observation, this emphasis on institutionalism is present among some Mainline Protestants, too. Popular Protestant apologist Richard Ackerman, who is almost singularly known by his online title “Redeemed Zoomer”, is a proponent of the Reconquista movement, which seeks to reverse leftism’s infiltration of Mainline Protestantism by mobilizing young, conservative Christians to join a Mainline Church.

In a debate with Reformed Baptist theologian Gavin Ortlund, this fundamental definitional difference of what the Church is became evident. Redeemed Zoomer’s insistence on the necessity of belonging to a Mainline Church is rooted in his belief that the historicity of an institution is of primary importance. He encourages Christians to leave non-Mainline churches (which he believes to be unilaterally schismatic) and join the nearest Mainline Church of their preferred denomination regardless of liberalism or heterodoxy. Ortlund’s view is that the integrity of doctrine and practice matters more than institutionalism. In their debate, he gives a brilliant synopsis of this position: “I would rather worship Jesus in a sewer with orthodoxy than in a cathedral with heresy.” Gavin is not simply expressing a normative or preferential statement; he’s articulating a definition of what the Church is that differs from the intensely institutional fixation popular among many High Church proponents.

As an Evangelical myself, I’m biased to agree with Gavin, but my agreement is based on genuine conviction from how I see the Church described in the New Testament. The Apostle Paul’s many epistles indicate the Church as the global, dispersed group of saints saved by Jesus and called into the family of God. This definition is a guardrail against the notion that only one tradition has a monopoly on truth or an exclusive claim to being the only correct Church. Wherever true believers engage in true worship, there the Church is. Conversely, regardless of how old or official the cathedral down the street is, if it is absent of worship in spirit and truth, it is simply a building. Per His interaction with the Samaritan woman in John 4, Jesus seemed to think so, too.

Liturgical practice can become empty ritual as easily as it can become religious grounding

History often produces a cycle of excess and reaction. First-wave feminism was a reaction to a world where women enjoyed few rights under the law; in turn, it became third-wave feminism, whose excesses inspired the current trad-wife movement, which in its excess, seeks a return to pre-modern patriarchal models. Similarly, many of the vestiges of contemporary Christian culture were intended to remedy the excesses of puritanical Christianity; in turn, it has become unmoored from both ritual and history, inspiring a reaction of renewed liturgical fervor. This cycle teaches that sometimes the response to a problem can become a problem of its own, if taken to excess. It’s helpful to keep this in mind in evaluating cultural movements and fascinations.

Sacramentalism and liturgy can easily evolve into unmoored ritual when seen as ends themselves, rather than means to the end of worshipping and encountering God.

Just as the building itself not the Church, the ritual itself is not the religion. I am wary of the ritual dependence that often accompanies this trend toward liturgical traditions. I am glad for the folks who have benefitted from the anchoring effect of the sacraments — yet I am uneasy when I see this feeling mistaken for spiritual peace and misattributed to ritual itself. We choose to participate in particular denominations or traditions based on doctrine, style, and expression, but those should not be the things that bring us peace, meaning, or security. Liturgical traditions are misdiagnosing themselves when they purport the be the singular solution to the failures of Evangelicalism and secular culture. In reality, as in all things, the singular solution is Christ. I pray that this movement of turning tides and shifting priorities will serve to refine and stir the Church to deeper love, greater unity in the gospel, and increased fixation on Him.

Paxton vs Cornyn, Thomas Massie & AIPAC

Ken Paxton defeated John Cornyn for Texas’ Senate GOP nomination, to the chagrin of many, including myself. I’m not a Texas resident, but I care about the integrity of United States senators, and Cornyn was the better candidate. Paxton’s victory was almost certainly thanks to Trum…

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That was one road trip of many to visit the Alberta family. Some of my fondest memories are of hours in the backseat, winding through spectacular Rocky Mountain views, stopping off for cabin stays and pit stops, which to me and my siblings meant our favorite Canadian chocolate bars (the US doesn’t know what it’s missing there).

Those trips burned into my mind the majesty of creation. Pure, unadulterated wilderness for miles — sorry, kilometers and kilometers. I remember trying to explain the views to friends and finding any and all words lacking. There is abundant vividness to the world, and so much of it is seldom seen by human eyes. What a testament to the glory of God, and what a testament to a Creator Who creates simply for his own glory and pleasure.

I saw an elk for the first time that trip, and I met distant relatives for the first time, too. That was the family reunion when I realized the extent of the family I came from and I felt descendent. My great-grandparents were guests of honor at a centennial celebration for the town that owed it’s life and health to their work. That trip smelled like a sweet, grassy summer evening and it felt like belonging. I remember strangers approaching me and the subsequent questioning of identity discernment. “Oh, you’re one of Fred and Hazel’s great-grandkids?” Yeah, that’s me. I knew then that I belonged to a heritage that was rich and crowded, and I felt the comfort in being just one of many.

I think of that trip against the backdrop of mountains and views too breathtaking for a postcard and I think of the hugeness and wildness of God. I remember the feeling of belonging and the stories that compose my family history and I think how amazing it is that the Rocky-Mountain God is the same God who involves Himself with us. I’m just one of many, in one heritage of many, and God is in it all, wildly and intimately.

It’s easier to remember that when I’m staring down a pristine, clear road ahead. It’s harder when the roadblocks obstruct the view — though I’ve seen Him move them and move through them more times than I can tell. My small-mindedness is a consistent, counterproductive companion on the journey to knowing God. How often I echo the disciples — “Lord, help my unbelief.”

I must learn to see Him in the roadblocks as much as in the scenery — just like the first time I saw an elk.

Unfortunately, Rosaria’s list was haphazard and made two serious errors. First, many of the men she listed would not be classified as heretics, even if some of them maintain some unorthodox views. (For instance, Kirk Cameron’s recent switch from a belief in ECT1 to annihilationism is, in the words of conservative Bible scholar Wes Huff, “unorthodox, but not heretical.”) Second, her catchall condemnation of every man on her list implies that all of them are equally problematic. This is objectively wrong and morally unfair. Quite honestly, I was shocked to hear Gavin Ortlund mentioned alongside Andy Stanley and Matthew Vines (probably the two most problematic figures on her list). This particular comparison is one I’d like to focus on, as someone who has engaged considerably with Gavin’s material and benefitted tremendously from it.

For context, before going further, I’ll share a bit of my own experience with Rosaria Butterfield. My first introduction was hearing her share her testimony on a Christian podcast. I was riveted by her story and appreciated her obvious intelligence and articulation. From there, I came to appreciate her larger work on dissecting the philosophy and influence of critical and queer theories in modern society, and the way she uses her own testimony to challenge identity categories that contradict or deny the transformative power of the gospel. I am, actively, thankful for her work. Maybe that’s why I feel compelled to say something in light of what I consider to be a serious judgment error on her part.

As previously mentioned, I’ve also been deeply impacted and blessed by Gavin Ortlund’s content. His work on theological triage has been some of the most beneficial to my own study of theology and Christian walk. The purpose of his platform, Truth Unites, is to help believers find unity in the gospel despite doctrinal differences. To this end, he often makes videos explaining various positions on topics like baptism, communion, soteriology, and Church history. Contrary to what Rosaria’s indictment conveyed, Gavin is a theologically orthodox, conservative Christian. Through reading and listening to his work, I have simultaneously come to clearer understanding of the gospel and the need to be uncompromising on essential doctrines, as well as the need to be charitable toward believers who hold to differing views on non-essential doctrines.

Despite his unquestionable orthodoxy and gracious, godly demeanor, Gavin has been a common target for a particular crowd of ideological purists. Much of the criticism (read: contempt) he has endured is due to his views on creation and the flood. Gavin has made many videos explaining the various positions on both of these topics, as well as sharing his own convictions. He holds to old-earth creationism, while affirming orthodox belief in God’s purposeful, intimate action in creation, and Adam and Eve as the real, historical progenitors of the human race. He also holds to a belief in a localized (as opposed to a global) Noahic flood. Importantly, his views are not unheard of throughout Church history. Long before Darwinian evolution emerged as a singular threat to the Genesis narrative, theologians like Augustine of Hippo, Origen of Alexandria, and Clement of Alexandria believed in a non-literal interpretation of the creation narrative and rejected the notion of six 24-hour days.

Sadly, Rosaria’s recent comments indicate that she is among this crowd of ideological purists who are willing to categorically dismiss or vilify other Christians on the basis of secondary doctrinal issues. In her view, Gavin’s belief in a localized Mesopotamian flood is comparable to Andy Stanley’s denial of the virgin birth or Matthew Vines promotion of “gay Christianity” — which makes him “a wolf” and “a heretic”. This indicates a belief that 1) all doctrines are equally important and 2) anyone who does not hold to a literal interpretation of every passage is purposefully, willfully rebelling against scripture and misleading others. Both premises are logical and categorical errors (surprising, given the source).

It hardly requires mental acrobatics to recognize that Andy Stanley’s appeal to “unhitching from the Old Testament” is diametrically different from Gavin’s position that the flood waters covering the “whole earth” may just as easily refer to the world known to the audience at the time. It also requires fairly minimal charity to consider that Gavin may have reached his position on creation through an attempt to faithfully understand what the creation narrative intends to communicate.

In reality, 1) not all doctrines are equally important and 2) how someone comes to a conclusion can be as important as the conclusion itself. These ought to be top-of-mind principles when evaluating doctrinal differences. To the first point, the doctrine of the virgin birth is an essential doctrine because without it, the gospel is fundamentally distorted (without virgin conception by the Holy Spirit, Jesus could not be both fully man and fully God). Differing views on the age of the earth do not even cross into doctrinal territory (Christians must affirm that a Creator God purposefully, personally created the world and imbued mankind with distinct identity and value).

To the second point, in speaking about his views, Gavin has expressed that his convictions were born out of a desire to be faithful to the combination of special revelation and general revelation, as well as what the text may have meant to its original audience. Many other theologians, drawing from emergent scholarship about Ancient Near Eastern (ANE) worldviews, have concluded that a non-literal-day view may be more consistent with an ANE understanding. In contrast, advocates for “side A” 2 — who promote the view that homosexuality is sanctioned by scripture and fully allowable in Christianity — are almost always motivated by the desire to reconcile their feelings with scripture. Rather than desiring to be faithful to God’s revelation first, they desire to find a loophole to make allowance for their flesh. These are two drastically different motivations.

A practicing homosexual Christian would find the canvas of history and the company of bygone saints a lonely place — as virtually every Church father, theologian, and lay Christian for two millennia would have found their views oxymoronic and in contempt of sound doctrine and conduct. However, an old-earth creationist is in the company of many theologians throughout history who have wrestled with the creation narrative and wondered at non-literal time interpretations, long before secularism or Darwinism presented alternate theories. Consistency would require Rosaria to play the heresy card on the renowned, Reformed preacher Charles Spurgeon, who once remarked that “the creation of this globe may be — certainly many millions of years before the time of Adam”.3 Would she be willing to call him a wolf?

The real issue isn’t whether Rosaria believes Gavin’s views are wrong. There is plenty of room within Christendom to regard other perspectives as incorrect — that’s part of having convictions. If I’m convicted of credobaptism, that means I’m convinced that paedobaptism4 is not a correct interpretation of the biblical texts about baptism. Often, I may not feel the need to confront paedobaptist believers or debate the topic. Other times, I may propose a dialogue. If Rosaria had addressed Gavin’s views separately, to offer a challenge or propose discussion, that would be different. Instead, she equivocated his differing, non-essential views with serious, gospel-affronting errors and called him a heretic and a wolf.

These are serious labels that have historically resulted in calls for ex-communication. Out of a desire to be charitable toward Rosaria as a fellow believer and not presume her motives, I have to suppose that she may not realize the gravity of what she said. Perhaps she has not researched Gavin’s views to understand what he actually believes and why. Perhaps she truly believes in an all-or-nothing, ideologically purist approach that demands conformation to one particular tradition’s interpretations. In the first case, she acted impulsively. In the second, she is misguided. In either case, she owes Gavin (and a couple others she name-dropped) an apology.

I have been inspired by Rosaria’s uncompromising polemic to obey God, which is why I feel compelled to say this: if we are going to be obedient Christians, we must do better.

First, it’s worth noting that no expressions of Christianity are perfect. This isn’t a philosophical hit piece or a tortured grievance. There are good things I can say about the Presbyterians, just as there are good things I can say about the Pentecostals. But this itself cuts to the marrow of what I want to address: there is a tendency in reformed theology to think of itself as the ultimate expression of Christianity and to delegitimize other expressions which adhere to the same essentials of the faith. In my experience, many reformed folks do not easily acquiesce the virtues of their more charismatic peers.

I learned this first when I moved to an area fairly saturated with reformed tradition, and encountered suspicion or even animosity toward anything outside that tradition. What was most bewildering to me was that much of these attitudes were not responding to legitimate first-order gospel concerns. Apparently, CS Lewis was to be held at arms length, at best, as punishment for not being a five-point Calvinist. Apparently, many of the theology books that had been most formative in my own walk with Christ were considered dubious sources of truth unless they were officially sanctioned by John Mac Arthur’s personal reading list. Apparently, Calvary Chapel was a problem?

I remember driving home from somewhere after hearing an offhand dismissal of Calvary Chapel churches. I was confused. I had never attended a Calvary Chapel, but I had remarked to my husband at one point that I had nothing but a positive impression. I had known several Calvary Chapel people across various times and places in my life and each of them were such evidently Spirit-animated, grace-filled, Jesus-loving people. Of course, my sample size was unique to me, but I had seen enough to know that this was hardly the unsound, problematic institution I had heard described earlier that day.

The reason for this judgment had to do with differing denomination-wide perspectives on the particular ministry of the Holy Spirit, along with individual cases of other theological differences. But as I followed these threads, I realized that none of the indictments I heard were rooted in anything to do with the core tenets of the gospel. In other words, there is nothing wrong with Calvary Chapel, unless you believe that disagreement on secondary issues ought to result in a “mark and avoid” verdict. If I had to summarize this attitude, I would say it’s a posture that lacks both the reasonableness and charity to which believers are biblically commanded.

Reasonableness is often associated with rationality, and while the two are related, there is a particular quality to what it means to be reasonable that I think is often overlooked. Merriam-Webster defines “reasonable” as “being in accordance with reason; not extreme or excessive; moderate and fair; having the faculty of reason; possessing sound judgment.” To be reasonable is to avoid excess and unsound categorical judgments. To apply that to inter-denominational discourse, that looks like not lumping every continuationist church into the Benny Hinn/Kenneth Copeland category. It looks like not dismissing theologians or authors outside one particular tradition as though they are outside the faith altogether, or incapable of making trustworthy or valid contributions to the body of Christ.

“Charity” is described by Merriam-Webster as “benevolent goodwill”. The apostle Paul instructs the Church to “do everything with charity” (1 Corinthians 16:14). The application here speaks to heart-motivation. In the midst of disagreements and disputes with other believers, we would do well to evaluate whether we have benevolent goodwill toward other Christians in our heart, and whether we value unity in the gospel above universal doctrinal alignment. Jesus and the Church epistles have a lot to say about the love and unity that should characterize the body of Christ — not just between members of one particular denomination, but among all those saved by Jesus. Church history is replete with examples of believers who enjoyed essential unity despite significant differences. If you believe that Martin Luther and John Wesley are both enjoying the presence of God together, then you can afford to have a little soteriological charity.

Taken together, reasonableness and charity prevent against the tendency to see one’s own particular tradition as the zenith of truth. There isn’t one denomination or one particular tradition that has arrived at completed knowledge or attained to the fullness of Christ. In my own walk with Jesus, I have been deeply blessed by the writings, teachings, faith, and exhortations of believers from a litany of traditions. My understanding and love for scripture has been deepened by my Presbyterian siblings and my Charismatic siblings alike. My Christology has been informed and adorned by Puritans and Methodists, and many others in between.

Maybe next time I’ll write about what I’ve learned from various traditions. In the meantime, I pray for an increase of reasonableness and charity — and I pray for a love for Jesus that rivals those Calvary Chapel people.

One of the artists I became quickly drawn to was Michael Jackson. While I enjoyed his music, what especially attracted me was his perpetual bent on helping and changing the world. He seemed restlessly aware of the need in the world, and keenly conscious of his own indebtedness, which I related to tremendously. The more I listened to music of the eighties, the more I found this attitude to be characteristic of the atmosphere of the decade. As I have become a lay-historian of music and late 20th century popular culture, one of my emergent theses is that while the 1960’s saw the genesis of pop activism, the pop activism of 1980’s was more authentically humanitarian, and it was an attitude of personal indebtedness and responsibility which made it so.

The two most successful music biopics of the last two years are the 2024 Bob Dylan biopic, A Complete Unknown, and the Michael Jackson biopic, Michael, released last month. Both of these biopics, apart from incredible casting, acting, and storytelling, offer immersive experiences of the atmosphere of the 1960’s and the 1980’s, and serve to illustrate my thesis.

Bob Dylan was perhaps the first widely-acclaimed artist to use music as a vehicle for social commentary — one of the primary themes explored in A Complete Unknown. The tumultuous uneasiness of the sixties created the perfect context for this type of songwriting. Young folks especially were perturbed, uncertain, even impassioned at political and social unrest, and desperate for an outlet to express their feelings. The balladeers of the sixties gave them this outlet, with Dylan presiding as the most prolific champion. The influence of the 1960’s in realizing the connection between music and social-cultural engagement cannot be discounted. But it is interesting to notice the character of the commentary produced by this decade.

Much of the social commentary of the sixties is reflective lament — poetic political observations, reflections on corruption, complaints about government, and pleas for peace and non-violence. The artists (and audiences) of this decade certainly used music to express their feelings, but the actual activism this era produced was more oriented to performative demonstrations and philosophical alignment. There was a cynicism to the sixties that is understandable given the social fabric, but the activism and musical commentary alike both seemed to fuel the cynicism rather than remedy it. Bob Dylan carved out his status as the king of folk with an anthology that is brilliantly diagnostic, but more often than not I’m left hanging with the diagnosis, unconvinced of the answer, and uncertain what to do.

In 1964, Dylan penned one of his most enduring hits, The Times They Are A-Changin’. The lyrics are as follows:

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you is worth savin'
And you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'

It’s masterful poetry. The lyrics put social observation to rhythm and rhyme and evoke great feeling — they validate both the events and the emotions of the decade. But the message is one of cynical acceptance. The full lyric goes on to address the reality of an evolving society and encourages people to abandon their old ways and “get out of the new road” for the changing times. If I had to select an anthem for the sixties, it might be this song. It brilliantly captures the atmosphere of the decade. In many ways, the tumult of the 1960’s left people distrustful of government, religion, and authority — and while music like Dylan’s offered a salient outlet and diagnosis, it stopped short at a solution or call to action beyond amorphous appeals to progressive ideas. The primary sentiment was that “the system” was an intractable foe, and being philosophically aligned with the resistance was the path of redemption.

The activism of the sixties emphasized the need for systemic change at the exclusion of real personal sacrifice, but offered the reward of philosophical enlightenment and sophistication. The activism of the eighties emphasized individual responsibility and personal agency as the catalyst for systemic change, offering a reward that could only be achieved by participation rather than association.

Michael Jackson belongs to the same tradition of musical social commentary, but his emphasis is diametrically different from that of Dylan’s. The personal indebtedness that underscores Man In The Mirror doesn’t settle for resigned acceptance or cynical angst. Consider the personal responsibility displayed in these lyrics:

I've been a victim of a selfish kind of love
It's time that I realize
There are some with no home, not a nickel to loan
Could it be really me pretending that they're not alone?

I'm starting with the man in the mirror
I'm asking him to change his ways
And no message could have been any clearer
If you wanna make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself and then make a change

These lyrics not only present a solution, they implicate me and you in the solution. They confront us with the possibility that maybe the injustice in the world isn’t a nebulous “out there” problem. They don’t allow us to blame our frustration on the system to ameliorate our sense of personal responsibility. They don’t leave us hanging with questions. The anthologies of these two decades paint two contrasting portraits. Consider the lyrics of another signature Dylan hit:

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
How many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, and how many times must the cannonballs fly
Before they're forever banned?

When I listen to this record, I feel the initial relief of emotional catharsis, but the relief quickly transpires into a feeling of unsteady futility when I realize that I have only questions and no answers. I’m left feeling sad, angry, and powerless. When I listen to We Are The World, a brainchild of Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie, I feel something else entirely:

We can’t go on
Pretending day by day
That someone, somewhere will soon make a change

We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day, so let’s start giving

I feel inspired, as though I’ve been given a directive and empowered to carry it out. I’m left with a sense of certitude and clarity. Millions of others felt the same, if the $80 million that We Are The World raised for famine relief is any evidence. What separates the character of eighties pop activism from that of the sixties is its assumption of personal indebtedness and responsibility. This was what drew me to both Michael Jackson and 1980’s humanitarian music projects; I found commiseration for my own sense of indebtedness and burdened responsibility to do what I can with what I have.

I appreciate the poetry and compositions of 1960’s folk music enormously, as I appreciate the ecclesiastical reminder that there is a time for everything — including honest lament. But I’m moved to action by the exhortation of 1980’s pop-rock, whose attitude of indebtedness brings to mind another biblical adage: to whom much is given, much will be required.

In many ways, the eighties completed what the sixties started by recovering a sense of personal indebtedness. That’s what real activism does: it brings people to the brink of their own responsibility and the need in the world. There is a time and place to acknowledge the frustration and futility of the world and sit with it, but change requires action and agency. Performative advocacy contents itself with describing the problem. Sacrificial activism cannot rest until it is part of the solution. There’s a huge difference between a tongue-in-cheek lyrical blow to “the system” and a sincere appeal to personal action. The sixties told us that the answer was blowin’ in the wind. The eighties told us that the answer was the man in the mirror.

The Pope on War

In his Palm Sunday address, Pope Leo XIV stated that “God does not listen to the prayers of those who wage war.” On cue, the internet exploded. Unsurprisingly, there were positive reactions from many progressives and progressive-leaning Christians, who tend toward pacifistic views. But many on the woke r…

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Spiritual wallpapering is advertising good behaviors to excuse or justify sin in our lives.

There’s a natural human tendency toward meritocratic thinking which sees morality as a balance — you can atone for your failures by doing enough good things. The gospel’s message of grace rather than works being the mechanism of salvation is offensive to this paradigm, and many reject the gospel outright because of it. But even Christians who assent to the gospel can inadvertently embrace this way of thinking. One of the ways this unconscious belief manifests is the practice of advertising good behaviors as a way to distract from or atone for sin or gaps in our discipleship. This is spiritual wallpapering: pasting a facade of spiritual health over blemishes or disrepair in our lives.

Practices like leading a Bible study, attending church multiple times a week, or even spending time in worship and prayer can become justification for sin in other areas of our lives. “I serve regularly” — so I don’t need to work on my marriage. “I’ve never missed a Sunday” — so I can ignore the pride, resentment, or unforgiveness festering in my heart. “I pray and listen to worship music daily” — so I don’t need to fix my poor work ethic. But moralism cannot replace discipleship. Like salvation, spiritual fruit is not born from ritual or performance. True spiritual fruit is born from a heart that is submitted to God and walking in the Spirit.

Spiritual wallpapering is inventing a spiritual reason or excuse for an entirely human decision.

“God told me to break up with you” is perhaps the most infamous example of this type of spiritual wallpapering, but if you’ve spent significant time in the church, you have likely observed other examples. This type of spiritual wallpapering typically results from the desire to justify poor, foolish, or even morally questionable decisions by manufacturing divine approval or confirmation. In any case, if you feel the need to justify or defend your decision by absolving yourself from agency, you are likely spiritually wallpapering poor character or decisions.

God will never influence or direct a decision that contradicts His word, that puts others in harm’s way, or that negates personal responsibility. Yet I can think of too many poor career decisions that have put families in precarious positions, defended as “God’s will.” I have observed transitions to full time ministry which abandoned personal responsibility and expected financial support from others, excused as “divine appointments.” I have witnessed unequally yoked relationships justified by statements like “God is leading me to date this person.”

God is not a rigid determinist; not everything we do requires a seal of confirmation — and if we are keeping in step with His Spirit and Word, we can be assured we are in His will. Sometimes, He does grant us specific direction or confirmation, and can do so in various ways. But His direction never opposes His revealed will. When we attribute poor decisions to God’s direction or will, we take His name in vain. Many want to contrive divine direction because they believe it is a sign of spiritual fruit, but it isn’t. True spiritual fruit is not measured by hearing from God but by obeying Him.

Spiritual wallpapering is comparing our successes to the real or invented sins of others to make ourselves look more righteous.

Another way that meritocratic thinking manifests is in comparison — this is a temptation common to all believers. Comparison allows us to minimize our own sin or maximize our own righteousness by weighing ourselves against others. This is pride, and when combined with deception — inventing or presuming sin in others, it is an especially insidious form spiritual wallpapering. Accusing a church member of showing off when they use their gifts makes us feel better about our own gifts. Judging a fellow believer’s parenting when their children are noisy during the service makes us feel better about our own parenting. Assuming a neighbor is worldly for buying a brand new car makes us feel better about our own character.

In my observation, the business model of many American churches creates incentive for leadership to preserve the image of the institution, which can result in a corporatized version of this type of spiritual wallpapering. This could look like someone bringing a legitimate issue or grievance to church leadership and being accused of slander or attention-seeking out of a desire to avoid conflict or preserve the image of the church. Hiding or manipulating the truth to serve self-interest can be a temptation for both the individual believer and the institution of the Church that ought to sober us all. Jesus looks at the heart and will judge each of us based on our personal integrity and obedience to Him; He is not deceived or impressed by the image we construct and project. We ought to be more concerned with the fruit of our own lives than making assumptions about others.

Spiritual wallpapering is overemphasizing gifts, numbers, or correct theology as evidence of spiritual fruit.

A sure sign that the economics of the world have replaced the economics of the kingdom in our hearts is when we begin to use earthly standards to measure spiritual fruit. In reality, spiritual fruit is not calculated or determined by the world’s indicators of success. It doesn’t matter if a youth conference sees a 500 student turnout if no discipleship results. It doesn’t matter how gifted a worship leader is if they are consumed with pride. It doesn’t matter how doctrinally sound a church or teacher is if they are full of hidden sin.

Focusing on the wrong indicators and neglecting true spiritual harvest, whether willfully or ignorantly, is spiritual wallpapering. It can cause the Church to make errors in judgment — elevating people to positions of leadership purely because of their charisma or giftedness without thoroughly observing the fruit of their lives, or gauging the gospel impact of a ministry based on the number of people in attendance. Notably, authentic spiritual fruit is sometimes accompanied by earthly indicators of success. A large turnout, a growing congregation, increasing doctrinal knowledge, and obvious talent in ministry can be indicative of a genuine move of the Spirit and the favor of God. But these things themselves are not the fruit.

Underneath spiritual wallpapering is a failure to understand true spiritual fruit. Spiritual fruit is not measured by good behavior, moralism, or divine direction. It’s not judged against the standard of others’ behavior or intentions, or evidenced by numbers, doctrine, or charisma. The fruit of the spirit is produced by obedience to God. Biblical obedience naturally safeguards against spiritual wallpapering, because it is always a heart posture. Empty religion, half-hearted obedience, ritualistic box-checking, and self-righteous comparison were what Jesus most stridently condemned. Unless our hearts are fully and humbly submitted to Him, we will not produce the fruit of obedience.

Lord, cleanse your Church — rid her of pride, empty religion, and the scourge of spiritual wallpapering. Convict our hearts and exhort us to obedience. May we be found fruitful and faithful when You return.

This phenomenon exploded in the years following Covid, and understandably so. Prolonged isolation caused many to reevaluate their lives and which things were truly necessary, and decide on a more minimalist, natural, or off-grid lifestyle. Competing narratives caused many to feel hoodwinked or condescended to by leaders, and produced a wariness toward scientists, officials, and federal bureaus. Government overreach caused harm to many folks in the form of job loss, and produced a sense of deep, personal injury. Additionally, the years since Covid have seen an increase in political unrest combined with artificial intelligence, which has created an unstable culture of information. Bots, AI slop, and fake news are real threats that have produced a sense of insecurity. It’s hard to know who or what to trust.

These types of crises have a potential for positive societal change, as far as they demonstrate the fallibility of human institutions and remind the public of their personal agency in being discerning, investigative, and informed. The trouble is, there is also the potential for an intense pendulum swing in the other direction — resulting in an equal but opposite error. This is what happened, and what is increasing even now. Large swaths of Americans no longer seem to trust institutions — with varying degrees of hostility. In many ways, it’s as though the conception of “experts” has disintegrated in public consciousness.

Societal trust in experts has been eclipsed by irrational suspicion and conspiratorial thinking. Lapses in institutional credibility, internet culture, and the rise of artificial intelligence help explain why — but just because something is understandable, doesn’t mean it’s healthy. I’m discouraged by how many Christians have become peddlers of conspiracies, participators in hostility, and apologists for institutional distrust.

During the Artemis II mission, I was reminded at the underbelly of online conspiracy theories; the comment sections of NASA posts were overtaken by accusations of “fake news” and various iterations of flat-earth, fake-space, and moon-stunt theories. I realize that this crowd is still a minority, albeit a vocal one, but I am still shocked by how large a minority it is — and alarmed at how many folks are willing to entertain these ideas, even if not fully convinced themselves.

I believe the rise in conspiracy culture and institutional distrust is symptomatic of our cultural moment — but I also believe it poses some serious issues to our Christian witness that followers of Jesus must reckon with.

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In order to engage in fruitful conversation about this topic, it’s essential to understand what someone means when they identify as having deconstructed, and why a person has deconstructed.

The what

In reading about this topic and listening to stories of folks who have deconstructed, it becomes apparent that some who use the term simply mean that they have gone through a process of “starting over” — essentially breaking down the doctrines they were taught, considering them critically, and even reevaluating aspects of the faith they have never seriously wrestled with. The end result of this process may look like someone who becomes Reformed after growing up in charismatic non-denominationalism, or someone who parts with the young-earth creationism they were taught, or someone who leaves behind the extra-biblical requirements of fundamentalism. All three of these examples are very different from a person who defines their deconstruction as abandoning the core doctrines of Christianity and wholesale rejecting the authority of Scripture, the implications and exclusivity of the gospel.

Defining what someone means by deconstruction is essential, because it affects how the Church ought to respond. Those who have come to different conclusions about non-essential issues ought not to be regarded as precarious unbelievers but as brothers and sisters in Christ to engage in good faith. In the next point (why people deconstruct), I am am referring to folks who have left the faith altogether and no longer identify as Christians, or who have embraced a form of “Christianity” that is unrecognizable from historic Christian belief. This is the category of deconstruction I have in mind throughout the rest of the article. The Church should recognize these folks as lost sheep, needing to be pursued with the gospel.

The why

Once we’re clear on the what, we have to consider the why. Two people who have ended up in the same place may have taken very different routes to get there. Where many Christians go wrong is assuming a reductionistic perspective that attributes deconstruction exclusively to the external pressure of secularism. Where exvangelicals and deconstruction apologists go wrong is assuming a reductionistic perspective in the opposite direction: attributing deconstruction exclusively to internal pressures of Church hurt and Christian hypocrisy. In reality, both pressures from without and within contribute to the deconstruction phenomenon, and any individual deconstruction story may be influenced by a combination of these pressures.

We need a fuller picture and a more robust diagnosis. Jesus’ parable of the sower in Matthew 13 serves as one of the most relevant scriptures for examining the deconstruction phenomenon; I believe that the common causes of deconstruction correspond to the examples Jesus gives in this parable. In examining the pressures from outside and inside the Church and comparing them to this passage, I hope to present both an honest analysis of this issue and an outline of how the Church should respond.

External pressures: the birds of the air

Our cultural landscape has changed tremendously, even in the last twenty-five years. The Dawkinsian skepticism of the early 2000’s is largely outdated, and the salient external pressures and objections to the Christian faith are rarely addressed by the sorts of atheist comebacks promoted by Answers in Genesis. Many are more willing to accept the factual claims of Christianity than its moral implications. In his 2020 book The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self, Dr. Carl Trueman examines the current dominant cultural worldview of the west and traces its origins through the sexual revolution. He argues that rise of “expressive individualism”1 has created worldview assumptions that are antithetical to what Christians have historically believed. In many ways, the friction between secularism’s concept of identity and scripture’s concept of identity creates the greatest obstacle to the gospel.

Accepting the general factual claims of Christianity is easier than accepting what Christianity diagnoses and prescribes about human identity, sin, and salvation. For many folks who have grown up in a paradigm dominated by expressive individualism, the age of the earth or the resurrection of Christ are irrelevant and unproblematic, respectively. Christian teaching on the universality of sin and the exclusivity of Christ are much more difficult. In order to honestly examine the external pressures to Christianity which may factor into deconstruction, we must understand what those external pressures truly are. They aren’t what they were twenty-five years ago.

Expressive individualism

Expressive individualism (EI) has convinced people that authenticity is the highest virtue. This is perhaps its most significant contribution to social engineering. Every person reserves ultimate authority to define who they are, and nothing is more virtuous than being true to who you are. This means that catering to feelings, internal perceptions, and desires is never inadvisable or wrong. Here, two obvious gospel obstacles emerge. First, Christianity requires recognition of the juxtaposition between humanity and God, and the primary nature of this juxtaposition is that God has ultimate authority — to create, define, and legislate morality. Second, Christianity, when embraced, requires submitting feelings, internal perceptions, and desires to God’s authority.

Christianity presents an assault to the assumptions of the cultural worldview du jour (which is often embraced unconsciously), and so is often labeled by antagonists as “toxic”. If you have been convinced of the premises of expressive individualism, the implications of the gospel are tyrannical. One popular example is the notion that the diagnosis of sin, the existence of original sin or sin nature, and the universal need for salvation is inherently oppressive. While this obstacle has become inflated by the modern cultural paradigm, it isn’t new. The gospel has always been scandalous because it offends our pride, resists our flesh, and contradicts our meritocratic definition of justice.

Relativism

EI will produce relativism, because it is predicated on the idea that truth and virtue are defined by personal experience or feeling. Any religion or ideology based in the idea of absolute truth or objective morality is oppressive, according to this view. A majority of the objections levied by deconstruction apologists or cited by exvangelicals are related to the “toxicity” of Christian doctrines which contradict expressive individualism or its close cousin, relativism. Doctrines like original sin2, the atonement of Christ3, the exclusivity of Christ4, and the moral prescriptions taught in scripture and affirmed by the Church throughout history5 are all incompatible with the idea that there is no absolute or binding nature to truth or morality.

The dishonesty of deconstruction apologists

It’s easy to understand how historic Christianity cannot coexist with EI — either one is true, or the other is. But sometimes overlooked is the internal inconsistency within a relativistic worldview. Many of these same deconstruction apologists cite the moral hypocrisy of Christians as a huge factor in their leaving the faith and a huge factor in why you should, too (I do believe Christian hypocrisy is a problem and can be a factor, which I address in depth by analyzing internal pressures to deconstruction). But what is the moral standard by which they can judge hypocrisy? For the consistent relativist, there are no objective moral standards whatsoever. Many of these folks are not in fact total relativists — they often will adhere to particular truths or standards that they believe are absolute, usually culminating in being a generous, loving person.

The trouble is, it’s impossible to define what generosity and love are in any absolute sense without assenting to some authority outside yourself. If you insist that your definition is the correct one, you’ve made yourself the moral arbiter. If you resort to the “majority consensus” definition, you’ve ceded the ability to critique based on principles themselves. If you say there is no absolute definition, then you forfeit your ability to hold anyone to an absolute standard. And if you appeal to particular Bible verses or sayings of Jesus, you commit the same error as hypocritical Christians: cherry picking which commands to follow.

Another dishonest tendency of the militant exvangelicals is to hold evangelicalism in particular to an unreasonable standard. When the sins of folks outside the Church are discovered, they’re chalked up to being “bad eggs” — unrepresentative of the religion, profession, or culture to which they ascribe. When the sins of evangelicals are exposed, they are seen as proof that evangelicalism or Christianity in general is corrupted, untrue, and untrustworthy. It’s worth noting here that I do believe that Christian sin (especially sin of pastors/leaders) is serious and distinct from the sin of unbelievers.

Those outside Christ cannot be expected to behave in a regenerate fashion, and those inside Christ have been set free from sin for the express purpose of refusing its slavery and representing Christ to the world. When we fail to do this, we do tremendous damage to our witness. Yet, sin should still be regarded individually. To react to the sexual sin of an evangelical leader by concluding that Christianity is untrue or that all Christians must be hypocrites is like reacting to an instance of Islamic terrorism by concluding that Islam must be false and all Muslims are terrorists. This isn’t a reasonable method of evaluation. The truth of a religion must be evaluated based on its actual claims, and the integrity of a religion’s adherents must be evaluated on an individual basis.

The social pressure of secular progressivism

The natural friction of EI and relativism is exacerbated by the landscape of secular progressivism. The current ascendency of right-wing politics has perhaps lent some softening to this pressure, but many progressive ideas maintain an ideological foothold. Believing in biblical prescriptions for gender and sexuality lands you solidly in the minority; even many self-identifying Christians and conservatives have embraced leniency when it comes to homosexual marriage or sex outside marriage. Commitment to the exclusivity of the gospel is unpopular in a culture that believes it is oppressive to place limits on who gets to heaven, outside being a generally good person. I have heard many accounts which cite these types of pressures as instrumental in their deconstruction.

In a common scenario, a person who grew up in the Church enters university and begins to hear how exclusive and oppressive Christian beliefs are, and they internalize the notion that unless they renounce these beliefs, they are participating in oppression and exclusion. Entrance into secular, progressive institutions is a common impetus for leaving Christianity or deconstructing into a (false) version of Christianity that comports with secular progressivism. Acknowledging these external pressures is not scapegoating (I address internal faults of the Church in the next section), nor is it accusing folks of “just wanting to sin”. Most often, these external pressures prey on the universal human desire to be viewed as a reasonable, tolerant, or socially conscious person, and employ good, old-fashioned peer pressure to achieve their ends. An honest survey of this issue requires acknowledging that while external pressures don’t influence everyone’s story, they are powerful influences.

These external pressures to deconstruct can be compared to the birds of the air in the parable of the sower: “As he sowed, some seed fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured them.” (Matthew 13:4) The pull of self-gratification, the appeal of expressive individualism, and the social pressure of secular progressivism are real actors, and wherever they are present, they are intent on destroying faith before it can take root.

Internal pressures: rocky soil & thorns

Bad theological triage

Christian author and YouTuber Gavin Ortlund has coined the term “theological triage” to refer to the discipline of maintaining distinction between gospel essentials and secondary doctrinal issues. I’ve become convinced that this is one of the salient issues affecting the Church today, and one of the most relevant to the topic of deconstruction.

Many churches suffer from a lack of theological triage, or poorly-triaged theology. In his 2020 book Finding The Right Hills To Die On, Ortlund refers to these two errors as doctrinal minimalism and doctrinal sectarianism, respectively. In my own observation, doctrinal minimalism is more common in churches that emphasize experience and outreach over doctrine and discipleship. Doctrinal sectarianism is more common in churches that focus heavily on doctrine at the cost of everything else.

Doctrinal minimalism

Where there is doctrinal minimalism, there is often less robust exegesis, which can lead to a congregation full of folks who either grew up in the church or were initially drawn in through some type of event or experience, but never received sound doctrinal teaching. For a person in this environment, the discovery that there are many perspectives, debates, doctrinal frameworks, and disagreements on secondary doctrines within Christianity can be alarming. It may bring an existential realization that they never really had thoroughly-reasoned personal convictions, or had never considered these doctrines for themselves. These realizations serve as an impetus for deconstruction from within the Church — an internal pressure.

This scenario is akin to the seed which fell on rocky soil — a quickly springing, circumstantial faith which never had the soil to take root and so withers. The danger of doctrinal minimalism is that it neglects the work of tilling, watering, and tending good soil — and as a result, many scattered seeds are more susceptible to the elements and to expiration.

Doctrinal sectarianism

Where there is doctrinal sectarianism, there is often a lack of grace or respect for nuance and differing perspectives on non-essential issues. Most commonly, poor theological triage involves elevating secondary issues to an essential or primary level, and is present whenever issues like soteriology, spiritual gifts, or eschatology become indistinguishable from the deity of Christ, His atoning death and bodily resurrection, or the Trinity.

For a person in this environment, experiencing doubts or questions about a secondary issue often feels extremely unsettling, because they were taught that a particular view on spiritual gifts, for instance, was necessary for being a Christian. When they begin to have doubts about this view, possibly arising even from their own internal study of Scripture, they feel that they have already become excluded from Christianity. Doctrinal sectarianism exacerbates feelings of shame or doubt by assuming that any deviation from a particular framework can only be motivated by rebellion against the authority of Scripture. Too many folks have been functionally forced out of the Church from within by this type of attitude — another instance of internal pressure.

Because doctrinal sectarianism tends to use dogmatism as the standard for proper biblical knowledge and submission, it can produce a lack of charity toward believers who think differently. Most people have heard of the extreme, fundamentalist sect of Christians who exclusively read the King James Bible translation and insist that reading any other Bible translation is evidence of ignorance or lack of regeneration. Most people would condemn this notion as wrong — even silly. Yet, there are plenty of folks who have adopted this attitude with their own sacred cows. Anyone who believes in a different soteriological framework is regarded as ignorant, or worse — as purposely rebelling against Scripture. This lack of charity is itself an internal motivation for many in becoming disenchanted with the Church; this is to our great shame.

Doctrinal sectarianism has the effect of the thorns Jesus describes, which grow up and choke the newly sprung seeds. The danger of doctrinal sectarianism is that it allows non-essential issues to become priorities and fails to distinguish them from what is necessary to salvation, life, and godliness. This results in new sprouts becoming confused and ultimately choked out of the faith.

Mishandling doubts, questions, and pain

Another pressure within the Church that factors into many deconstruction stories is clumsily-handled pain or poorly-shepherded doubts. I have written previously about the fact that the evangelical Church in particular has historically lacked resources for emotional awareness and care. I believe some of this is because evangelicalism has largely divorced itself from academia, art, science, and medicine and ceded that territory to secularists. Now, the vestiges of those fields — which were once bastions of Christianity — are considered “off-limits” by many Christians. This includes practices like professional counseling and therapy, and their focus on empathizing with or validating someone’s pain. In an effort (sometimes well-intentioned) to “point people to truth”, evangelical expressions can tend to dismiss hurt.

Exacerbating this problem is the practice of excusing sin and abuse when it comes to ministry leaders or contexts. As mentioned previously, the presence of sin or scandal in the Church is not evidence for its wholesale corruption or untrustworthiness. But when it is minimized or ignored, it shames Christian witness. I believe that covered-up abuse and sin in the Church which causes folks to leave the faith would fall under Jesus’ condemnation in Matthew 18:6 — “But whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to fall away—it would be better for him if a heavy millstone were hung around his neck and he were drowned in the depths of the sea.”

Doubts are regarded as dangerous in conservative evangelicalism especially — evidence of progressive creep or succumb to worldliness — and so tend to be quickly dismissed or glossed over. I have heard many stories of people whose doubts were condemned or whose questions received no honest engagement, and instead were told they should just have faith or believe the Bible. In reality, the Bible provides us with plenty of examples of faith heroes who doubted, or who were burdened with existential questions. Doubts and questions should not be regarded as incompatible with Christianity or as automatically antagonistic. Jesus responded to the honest probing of the Samaritan woman very differently than to the Pharisees who questioned him with intent to trap Him. Christians must model this rhetorical awareness in order to be effective ministers and conduits of truth.

Here, theological triage is a helpful solution, too. When the gospel is clearly delineated and doctrine is rightly ordered, then it becomes easier to process the painful experiences or lack of charity observed in the Church while maintaining the distinction of Christianity as a belief system and Christ’s Church as a whole. Spend significant time in the Church and you will be hurt. You will witness hypocrisy, you will be wounded by other believers, you will encounter sin and flaws and errors. But with an appropriate intellectual understanding of the essential tenets of Christianity and an ingrained heart-knowledge of the character of God, it’s possible to maintain faith in the gospel and participation in the Church.

A political parallel

Here, I want to offer an incidental but relevant observation. There is a striking parallel to religious deconstruction happening within the political sphere— many young people raised in conservatism have left, some identifying on the left and others identifying as politically homeless. Many right-wing pundits have chalked this up to the terrors of progressivism lurking behind every bush, waiting to claim another target for a Marxist takeover. On the other hand, the political left and elite “moderates” insist that it is purely archaic notions, oppressive values, and unrealistic policies that have pushed folks away from the right. In reality, I think it is more nuanced than the loudest voices on either side say.

I have watched many folks whose conservative values (morally, not just politically) have been utterly shipwrecked by liberal arts colleges, and who have become sold out not just to policies but to a paradigm. For them, it wasn’t because of their family, hypocrisy, or personal investigation — it was the environment. Ideological bias is a reality in many institutions and programs, and often combines with social pressure to conform or be seen as sophisticated or enlightened. More than simply changing their mind on particular policies, they changed their mind about the nature of truth, gender and sexuality, the importance of the nuclear family, and what determines morality. For these folks, it’s a face-value trading of one paradigm for another.

However, I have observed many other peers who have become disenchanted from within at the tribalism, the infighting, and the Trumpism which has turned many conservatives into nearly unrecognizable versions of the early 2000’s Republicans we grew up with. The extreme rhetoric, blind loyalty, and even idolatry that exists within MAGA politics has been an impetus for many to leave conservatism behind, with Christianity quickly following by association. I’m not attempting to comprehensively explain the relationship of conservatism to the Church, but this is an interesting parallel we should consider — especially given the significant overlap between shifting political loyalties and deconstructing Christianity. Where politics affect the witness of the Church, Christians should be concerned. This means guarding against ideological progressivism in the pulpit, and it also means confronting the excesses of the political right among the pews — wherever either exist.

If people are to reject Christianity, let it be because they reject the diagnosis of sin, the exclusivity of the Savior, or the call to sanctification. Let it not be because Christians failed to offer an authentic presentation of the gospel in the fullness of grace and truth.

How should Christians respond?

Broadly, we should remember that deconstruction is not a one-size-fits-all single story. Deconstruction itself can mean multiple different things, and there are multiple factors which influence it. Because of this, we ought to define terms, lead with curiosity, and respond with rhetorical astuteness. As in everything, we look to Christ as our ultimate example. Throughout His ministry, Jesus was definitionally clear, demonstrated curiosity, and modeled exceptional rhetorical flexibility.

Clear, compassionate, and customized — following Jesus’ rhetorical example

These three qualities are vital for us to emulate as we engage culture and people with the gospel, and are specifically relevant to the issue of deconstruction too. First, clarity; Jesus was uncompromising about what is true, what God commands, and what is necessary for salvation — and He was not a mincer of words, even amidst heated opposition. We ought to follow His example by courageously holding the line against the prevailing cultural winds and pressures which seek to topple the influence of biblical truth or challenge its existence entirely.

Second, compassion; despite His omniscience, Jesus opened conversations with questions and listened to people’s stories. Curiosity demonstrates care, which immediately sets the tone of a conversation. We ought to follow His example by rooting our witness in genuine compassion and care for those we speak with. Our ultimate desire should always be to communicate Christ and see souls won for His kingdom, not to win arguments.

Third, customization; this means fostering the rhetorical awareness to acknowledge that everyone we speak with has a different background, different story, different needs, and different motivation. To revisit a previous example, the way Jesus responded to hostile Pharisees seeking to trap Him was totally different from the way he responded to the hurting Samaritan woman, who was genuinely seeking truth. Similarly, we will interact with folks who are hostile to the gospel or who simply want to challenge us, but we will also interact with folks who are hurting or deceived, but genuinely thirsty for healing and truth. These are different situations that require different responses.

Keep the main thing the main thing

As believers, our greatest treasure is also our greatest tool: the gospel. Christians of many stripes, denominations, and expressions are united by our belief in Jesus Christ, God the Son — His perfect life, atoning death, bodily resurrection, impending return — and salvation as found exclusively and completely in Him. For millennia, God-honoring, Bible-revering, scholarly believers have disagreed on myriad issues and doctrines beyond the essentials. What you believe about the millennial kingdom is important, but it isn’t what separates saved from unsaved. Doctrines like these ought to be reserved for good-faith family discussions. The Church should take care to routinely preach the simple gospel with clarity; this is the best defense against sectarian insistence, the best preserver of unity, and the foundation for a theologically robust church.

Strive to be beyond reproach

One way the Church can bolster her witness amidst the rising tide of apostasy is to do right as far as it depends on her. The birds of the air (the external pressures to Christianity) are outside our control. But the field is our responsibility. The Church must take care that our soil remains tilled, watered, and ready to receive seeds — to come alongside them as they grow in grace and godliness. We must take care that we do not allow thorns to dominate, distracting new seeds or subtracting from their nourishment. This requires that we actively engage in theological triage, that we take our own sin seriously, and that we commit to being a place where hurting, confused, and thirsty people can find refuge and truth. Christ will not hold His Church responsible for souls lost to the enemy’s schemes — but He will hold us responsible for how well we stewarded our field and the treasure of His gospel.

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Right now, missionaries throughout the Muslim world are seeing one of the most amazing movements in recent missions history: significant numbers of Muslims are coming to Christ because Jesus is appearing to them in visions and dreams. Reports indicate that on average, 25-35% of Muslims who converted to Christianity experienced a dream or vision of Jesus. Some missionaries believe this to be a conservative estimate, affected by lack of reporting due to hostile cultures. This phenomenon is not new, but it is increasing.

According to Muslim theology, dreams carry deep spiritual meaning and symbolism, and are often seen as divine revelation. Because of this, a person of Muslim background is likely to consider dream revelation as direct truth or confirmation from God. From my own study of cross-cultural missions, God customarily uses culture-specific methods to communicate or confirm His truth. This fits perfectly with the testimonies of Muslim-world missionaries and ex-Muslim Christians who have shared extensively about this phenomenon. Many of the descriptions of these dreams or visions are remarkably similar, even when entirely unknown and unrelated to each other. Jesus appears as a bright, white figure and gives His identity as the Messiah — He often calls the person by name, refutes the falsehood of Islam, sometimes even gives the person specific directions to find a missionary or a Christian. In fact, it is so common for missionaries to receive cold contact from Muslims who have had a dream or vision of Jesus that some have begun advertising phone numbers people can call “if they have seen the Man in white.”

When I hear these reports, my heart leaps for joy! God is at work! He is intervening to save people in an area of the world so tragically closed to the gospel. Hallelujah!

Yet, over the last couple of years, I’ve been bewildered to encounter a spirit of skepticism within Reformed Christian spaces in the western Church. Recently, in studying both the phenomenon in question and the sour reactions toward it, I came across an article by Justin Peters, a well-known Reformed preacher, written in 2024. Peters challenges these reports, referring to them as “a narrative”, and devotes a lengthy article to casting doubt and suspicion, and encouraging other Christians to do the same.

The burden of proof is highest for absolute denial. So, an utter rebuke of this phenomenon, as Peters presents, must be established by airtight evidence and exegesis. I believe the spirit behind Peters’ denial is unfruitful, and his arguments are weakly exegeted. I’ll rebut each of his points in detail.

Argument #1: Where Is The Gospel?

Peters begins by asserting that these testimonies are largely void of the gospel; often, Muslims report an experience where Jesus simply reveals His identity and invites them to follow Him. Peters states that without mention of human sin, Christ’s substitution, death, resurrection, and command to repentance, there is no gospel. What he misses here is that in virtually every reported case, these dreams and visions are the beginning of a Muslim’s journey to Christ. They function as a divine revelation that Jesus is the true God and King. Often, these encounters occur in places where there is some Christian/missionary presence (though typically small and underground), prompting Muslims who have these experiences to seek out Christians. In some cases, Muslims who experience these encounters have already had an initial interaction with a missionary, and the dream or vision functions as confirmation that the missionary is telling the truth. These encounters function as divine confirmation and inaugurate a person’s journey with Christ — where robust gospel presentation, Christian fellowship, and Bible teaching quickly follow.

Consider the experience of the Apostle Paul on the road to Damascus. When Jesus appears to Him, He doesn’t articulate the Romans Road. The Apostle who first transcribed Christian systematic theology certainly understood the gospel — but on Damascus road, Jesus doesn’t teach Paul the creeds. He simply tells him who He is and places a calling on his life. God commonly works this way throughout scripture. He appears to Moses in the burning bush, not to give him the law or to give him a preview to his plan of salvation, but to tell Moses who He is and to place a calling on his life. When Jesus calls the disciples, He doesn’t immediately sit them down to teach them everything they need to know — He simply tells them to follow Him.

We would do well to remember that Jesus is the pre-requisite to the gospel, not the other way around.

Argument #2: Experience Is Not Authoritative

Here, Peters begins by pointing out that just because someone has an experience, doesn’t mean it’s from God. People of all religions (and none) report having supernatural encounters or experiences. Of course, this is true. But Peters then goes on to assert that an encounter which does not present the full gospel is likely a demonic deception — one of the “false Christs” warned about in 2 Corinthians 11:14. This perspective judges a purportedly incomplete or false method of proclamation, without evaluating the results of the proclamation. In every testimony I have heard of a Muslim who encounters Jesus in a vision or dream, the results of this encounter are replete with gospel fruit; the person believes in Christ, repents of their sin and false religion, tells others about Jesus, and often endures significant persecution because of it.

Jesus Himself said that you will know a tree by its fruit — a bad tree cannot produce good fruit. If the fruit of an encounter results in glorifying Jesus as the Messiah, making His name famous, expanding His kingdom and transforming lives, then it must be from God. (Peters denies that there is genuine fruit from these encounters; I’ll address this in argument #4). Experience on its own is not inherently authoritative, and anything from God will not contradict His Word, but experience confirmed by scripture can absolutely be a method God uses to reveal truth and bring people to Himself.

Argument #3: Genuine Gospel Proclamation Requires a Preacher and The Word

Admittedly, this argument amuses me, because I absolutely agree — but I don’t believe this proves what Peters says it proves. Simply put: is there a better example of preaching the Word than The Word, Himself, preaching? Peters cites Romans 10:14,17 to establish his point that the gospel requires a preacher and that faith requires hearing the Word of Christ. He makes a few assertions; one, that the ordinary, ordained means of salvation is hearing the gospel through human witnesses; two, that Hebrews 1:1-2 teaches that Christ only speaks through Scripture; three, that 2 Peter 1:19 proves that the written Word is more trustworthy than “even the most glorious supernatural experience.”

To his first assertion, I agree that God has ordained the proclamation of the gospel primarily through human witnesses, but Romans 10 does not establish the impossibility of God choosing to intervene directly Himself — it asks a rhetorical question: “how will they believe in Him whom they have not heard, and how will they hear without a preacher?” It’s a clarion reminder that gospel proclamation is necessary and commanded. In the western world, we are blessed to be surrounded by myriad networks of established churches, enjoy freedom of worship and religion, have full access to the written word of God, and live in a society saturated with other believers. If in areas of the world where none of these blessings are present, God chooses to do the preaching Himself at particular times — is that not His prerogative? My belief in God’s sovereignty demands I acknowledge that it is.

Peters does concede this objection, affirming that of course, God can use a dream. But he remains insistent in his argument that God doesn’t use dreams. He expands his point by referencing the story of Nabeel Qureshi, the Muslim-turned-Christian author and apologist, who experienced dreams of Jesus before converting. Peters declares that in cases like these, it isn’t the dream that saves people; rather, people are saved by grace through faith in Christ, and faith comes through hearing the Word. I agree with him! The trouble is, no one is arguing that dreams or visions are themselves salvific. All Christians believe that salvation is by grace through faith in Jesus. Peters’ argument here presumes that validating these dreams as legitimate revelations and proclamations of Christ is equivalent to trusting in the dreams themselves to save. This is a deliberate misrepresentation.

Second, I believe it’s reading too much into the text to interpret Hebrews 1:1-2 as saying that God only speaks through Scripture. Paul says that “Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days He has spoken to us by His Son…” Peters says the implication is clear: God no longer speaks in dreams and visions, but through Christ as revealed in Scripture. But the text doesn’t say that; it says that God speaks through His Son. The thousands of faithful, Bible-believing missionaries and converts reporting His supernatural work in the Muslim world are reporting just that: God is speaking through His Son. (It’s important to note that these supernatural experiences are in no way the only means by which Muslims are encountering Christ. Global Christian Relief cites increased access to Scripture and growing church presence as other factors.) Third, to assert that written scripture is more trustworthy than any supernatural experience comes dangerously close to idolizing the physical text above the metaphysical truth to which it testifies. The written Word of God is absolutely authoritative, but it is authoritative because it is from God. By his own logic, Peters must assert that the disciple John’s experience seeing Christ transfigured on the mountain was less trustworthy than the epistles he wrote.

Argument #4: Where Is The Fruit?

Here, Peters admits that these visions and dreams may function to point Muslims to a church where they may hear the gospel and be saved. He then says that “even in those cases, the Jesus of the dream sends them to questionable places”, which he specifies as Roman Catholicism, Word of Faith, or Prosperity movements. I’m curious where Peters is getting his information here — he doesn’t provide sources, only a confident assertion that these encounters are leading exclusively to questionable traditions. Making a claim so bold requires ample citation and evidence, but Peters provides none. I have heard enough testimonies from Protestant, Evangelical missionaries to know that this isn’t true, but for the sake of the argument, let me be generous. Even if Muslims were joining themselves to traditions which have questionable doctrine, is it not a net positive that they are still encountering Christ and turning from the false religion of Islam (which denies all gospel-essential truths about Christ) toward a tradition where Christ — His divinity, sinlessness, atoning death, and resurrection — is preached? Biblically, Christians are commanded to rejoice wherever the gospel is present and proclaimed — even if the motivations of those preaching are unrighteous or in pretense (Philippians 1:15-18).

Next, Peters pivots to denying the fruit of this movement. He says:

“Furthermore, if millions of Muslims were genuinely converting, we should expect to see tangible fruit—transformed lives, reformed communities, and churches planted across the Middle East. But we don’t. The numbers simply don’t match the reality on the ground.”

Again, what are his grounds for saying this? Has he ever listened to any testimonies from ex-Muslims or missionaries? One of the most amazing aspects of these testimonies is the tangible fruit of transformation. I have been moved to worship frequently by the evident joy and peace of the Lord that floods the countenances of ex-Muslims sharing their miraculous encounters with Christ. I have been convicted hearing their accounts of sharing the gospel with their friends and families — often risking disownment, injury, and death. I have praised God at missionary’s reports of churches growing and salvations increasing.

Peters’ assertions seem to be either in ignorance or denial of this. His assertions also seem to be uninformed about the cultural, political, and religious landscape of the Muslim world. Areas of the world dominated by Islam operate according to a fundamentally different paradigm. Christianity is widely outlawed — there are no expansive, thriving, above-ground networks of churches. Bibles are not readily accessible — if they exist at all — and many people in these areas, especially women, are illiterate anyway. There is no public Christian fellowship, worship, or community activity. Many missionaries say that because of this, there are likely far more Christians and underground churches than is known.

It seems that Peters is looking for outward signs of fruit that he is accustomed to seeing here in the United States — the freest, most Christianized nation in the world. But Afghanistan is not Idaho. Anyone acquainted with on-the-ground realities in closed countries understands what this means; it’s apparent to me that Justin Peters is not acquainted. Additionally, spiritual fruit is not measured according to externalities or numbers. Certainly, genuine gospel fruit is multiplicative by nature, but just as we wouldn’t judge the health of a church by its size, we ought not to judge the veracity of a move of God purely by numbers or by signs we are accustomed to seeing in our own culture.

Peters goes on to declare that there are “financial motives on both sides” for promoting this narrative. He says that missionaries to Muslim nations “tell dramatic stories to help raise support” and that refugees in Muslim nations know that telling “the right kind of story” can grant them sympathy or asylum. He attempts to save face by quipping: “I’m not saying everyone is lying, but the incentives are undeniable.”

But by stating as fact that missionaries exaggerate to raise support, that Muslim refugees are illegitimate actors, and that both are shrewd manipulators of western goodwill, Peters is insinuating deception. This is a grave accusation, even if it masquerades as an innocent suggestion or cautionary clause. The command to not bear false witness ought to make us extremely careful to even suggest that anyone, let alone a fellow brother or sister in Christ, is lying, unless there is clear evidence. If a person in my local Church is moved to financially support missions in the Muslim world because of the testimonies from missionaries and believers there — that is evidence of a regenerate heart responding in joyful participation with the gospel. It is not evidence that the testimonies themselves are predicated on falsehood. Frankly, this is a disappointing implication coming from a Bible teacher.

Argument #5: Incentive Not To Share The Gospel

Peters argues that believing Jesus is appearing to Muslims is dangerous, because Christians may think they have an excuse not to share the gospel with them. He poses: “Why risk the discomfort – or even danger – of missions and evangelism when you can trust that Jesus is handling it personally?” I find this objection strange coming from someone with Calvinist soteriology. Calvinism is under near-constant assault from the objection that its premises appear to make sharing the gospel pointless (the idea being that if God has already determined who will and won’t be saved, and that it is His intervention that saves people, there seems little reason to share the gospel). I’m not arguing that objection is merited, or making a case for or against Calvinism here. I am pointing out that this is perhaps the most common attack levied against Peters’ own soteriology. I imagine his rebuttal to this objection would align with most Calvinistic scholars: we share the gospel because Jesus commanded us to, and because He ordains both the means and the end. Jesus’ appearing to Muslims in dreams doesn’t give an excuse for gospel abandonment any more than believing in unconditional election does.

Further, I imagine Peters would teach that it is the direct intervention of God that saves a person, and that a sermon or a missionary or a passage from Scripture may all be ordained methods to the end, but are not the ultimate means. Only the direct intervention and regeneration of God actually accomplishes a person’s salvation. This aligns perfectly with the experience of a Muslim woman in Kabul, who is illiterate, isolated, imprisoned in her own home, and utterly without means or opportunity to drop by the local church and hear a sermon — and yet, God Himself intervenes to reveal Himself to her.

If the idea of God choosing to save some people through miraculous divine intervention extinguishes your motivation to share the gospel, then the issue concerns your own heart and obedience.

Given Peters soteriological perspective, it seems a rather cheap blow for him to borrow this argument in attempt to prove his point.

Peter’s conclusion

The author ends the article by stating that we have no biblical warrant to expect Jesus to appear in visions and dreams and that we have “every reason to doubt these stories”. I certainly don’t believe God is obligated to do anything. But the scripture that teaches me that God is beyond human obligation does not teach me that He cannot or does not work in this way. The same scripture that instructs me to test the spirits and evaluate fruit also teaches me not to quench the Spirit of God or to accuse a fellow believer of deception without evidence. Peters does not make a compelling, biblical case for the illegitimacy of these testimonies, yet he encourages Christians to doubt and disbelieve them.

He closes with the line “let’s not wait around for a dream, but preach the gospel.” In fact, this is what’s happening! Missionaries are preaching the gospel and praying for God to bring more souls and grow their churches. One of the ways He is answering is by validating His messengers (missionaries) and message by appearing to Muslims in a way that is particularly convincing to the Muslim worldview. There’s an attitude of moral superiority in Peters’ instructing the preaching of the gospel after having spent an entire article casting doubt upon the integrity of missionaries devoting their entire lives to doing just that.

It’s one thing to approach reports like this with measured prudence, to honor the question marks or concerns that may accompany your perception of it with careful investigation. If Justin Peters were simply urging Christians to not be rash or undiscerning, I could respect that. Instead, he is confidently asserting that this is not happening, categorizing the attestations of other believers as deceitful, and encouraging Christians to join him. This level of absolute denial is serious; it accuses thousands of missionaries, missions organizations, and converted Christians across many years, many nations, and many agencies of widespread fraud and conspiracy. If Peters has evidence for this, he ought to present it. But he doesn’t. He relies on weak exegesis to prop up his own bias.

Which is better — to rejoice in a miraculous move of God and to believe the testimonies of my brothers and sisters in Christ? Or to deny the legitimacy of these testimonies, exhort others to deny them too, and question the integrity of other believers? If I’m wrong in the first case, my conscience is clear before other Christians and before God; I have been obedient to rejoice at the preaching of Christ and what appeared to be a work of God, and have not borne false witness. If I’m wrong in the second case, I have failed to rejoice at the preaching of Christ and the work of God, I have borne false witness against brothers and sisters in Christ, and I have encouraged other believers to do the same. The stakes are clear; I choose to rejoice.

If you’d like to learn more about what God is doing throughout the Muslim world, hear testimonies from Muslims who have encountered Jesus in these ways, learn how you can pray for missionaries and believers in the Muslim world, and learn how to best engage Muslims with the gospel, here are some great resources:

Uncharted Ministries

I Found The Truth

Crescent Project

i2 Ministries

As is often the case, this rhetoric produced an intense reaction to unsympathetic folks on the other side of the aisle, whose emotional whiplash has helped the pendulum to swing to the other extreme. Racial essentialism of a different flavor, pushed by the woke right, is now gaining platform. The difference with right-wing racial essentialism is that it doesn’t attempt to hide. It makes the same error of equivocating between race and culture, but trades a clandestine, moralizing posture for an unapologetic, explicit one. Nick Fuentes, et al. argue that because race equals culture, we need racial discrimination in order to preserve western culture. Same substance, different flavor.

While their motivations are different, people like Ta-Nehisi Coates and Nick Fuentes are popularizing the very same fallacy — that culture is as intrinsic as race, and always correlated to race, such that each race is a monolithic representation of a certain set of values, behaviors, or inherited traits. For Coates, whiteness is irredeemably linked to prejudice and supremacy; non-whiteness is inextricably related to oppression and innocence. For Fuentes, non-whiteness is incurably connected to primitive violence and incapacity; whiteness is inherently superior in nature and activity. Both are abominable racial essentialism. The only difference apart from motivation is that Coate’s brand has enjoyed the veneer of sophistication lent from the support of elite academia, where Fuentes and his groyper base revel in disgusted reactions from the establishment.

Both expressions of racism are morally inexcusable; pragmatically, they also present a significant challenge to performing honest cultural critique, which is a pressing need. Culture is historically defined as the customs, values, social institutions, and achievements of a particular people or group. Anyone can choose to participate in a particular culture, and before I’m accused of encouraging cultural appropriation, consider this: we all choose to participate in certain cultures. The sports teams we like, the music we listen to, the hobbies we enjoy — all of these are examples of cultural participation. They may not be as robust as belonging to a historical, cultural heritage of a nation or people group, but this demonstrates that culture, in principle, is not an intrinsic quality. It is learned and adopted, it can be rejected or assented to, and it is not predictable based on where you were born, how you look, or what your citizenship is.

While race relates to your history, heritage, and certain intrinsic aspects of your identity, it does not determine your values or beliefs. This is imperative to understand if we are to have any legitimate discussion about cultural values — and we must be able to have legitimate discussion about cultural values, or our society loses all mooring.

Perhaps the most obvious example of the need for cultural critique is Islam, which I’ll explore here. As an ideology, Islam is antithetical to the foundational values of western civilization, a fact which takes serious mental gymnastics to deny or circumvent. But this fact is also irrelevant to race, and even religious identity. Islam the ideology is not synonymous with Middle Easterners, nor with everyone who identifies as Muslim. The trouble is that racially essentialist ideologues on both sides want you to deny one of these facts.

The woke left

The woke left denies that Islam is antithetical to western liberal values. For them, any honest observation or critique of Islamic law or values constitutes racism toward anyone who identifies as Arab or Middle Eastern. While Islamic jihadist terror attacks have decreased in frequency and scale in the United States since the defeat of the Islamic State (ISIS) in 2019, Europe has not fared so well. Rates of Islamic terrorism are much higher in Europe, and have increased in recent years in correlation to an increase of devout Muslim populations who subscribe to Islamic jihadist ideology. Many Americans have noted this as a statistic which should serve as a warning that ideological vetting is a good idea and unfettered immigration is inadvisable. Yet, for several years, the woke left has branded such ideas as racist.

It’s only racist if you believe that a person’s ethnicity determines their beliefs and behavior — that people from the Middle East are inherently radical, violent, and opposed to western civilization. Any reasonable, non-racist person knows this is nowhere close to true. There are myriad Middle Eastern immigrants to the US and Europe who are proud, peaceful citizens, assenting to and participating in the liberal values of the nation in which they reside. Ironically, calling critique of a cultural, ideological system racist insults people of the same race who are opposed to that cultural, ideological system. It presumes a monolith. Making an honest observation or critique of a belief system that is predicated on violence and anti-westernism has nothing to do with race. Critiquing Nazism does not mean vilifying all Germans as Nazis. Deploring Viking conquests does not mean scapegoating Scandinavians as barbaric colonizers. Contrary to what Coates believes, denouncing racism in the United States should not mean condemning the quality of whiteness as oppressive or racist.

The woke right

The woke right denies that ideological Islam is a separate category from Middle Eastern ethnicity. Over the last year especially, this brand of racism has exploded — infecting the internet where it used to lurk only in sordid corners, infecting the minds of many chronically-online folks, and leaking out into real-world discourse. Here, the message is: Americans must oppose immigration from Middle Eastern nations and teach our children that it is morally right to be suspicious or fearful toward Arabs. We must do this because if we are to preserve our cultural values, racial discrimination is necessary. Note the implication that cultural values are somehow equal to race — a notion which both common sense, American law, and objective morality refute. Fuentes and other far-right nationalists believe racism is morally right because it proves you are a good citizen and a true American.

They take a different side on Islamophobia. Where the woke left tiptoes around any critique in order to avoid it, the woke right stomps on landmines to create it. In its equivocation of race and culture, right-wing racial essentialism elevates the exception to the rule, assuming the same monolithic perspective. The United States has welcomed immigrants from all corners of the world for decades. For decades, the vast majority of them have been invaluable contributors to society, participators in western liberal values, assenters to the American creed, and patriotic citizens. Yet, the anti-immigration mob (who oppose immigration entirely, irrespective of legal process) zeroes in on propaganda and capitalizes on fear mongering to convince Americans that their society is under active threat and attack from anyone with a different content of melanin. They blaspheme the principle of equality affirmed by the Declaration that birthed America.

Beyond popularizing the same fallacy, both camps also attempt to morally absolve themselves from accountability via their inversions. Their re-definition of terms acts as a shield against legitimate criticism of their true beliefs. For Coates, the shield is: you can’t critique me for maligning American values because they are a vestige of whiteness — I’m just being anti-racist. For Fuentes, the shield is: you can’t critique my white supremacy because American values are white values — I’m just being patriotic. Any perspective which relies on equivocation, disingenuousness, and inversion belongs to the category of propaganda, not principle.

The American creed stands in stark opposition to both of these camps, because it preempts essentialization and establishes the supremacy of individual assent, identity, and agency. Anyone who wishes to can be an American, irrespective of background, race, or religious identity — because being an American means assenting to the American idea. Cultural critique is a vital part of the principle of the United States. We discriminate based on and only on the values expressed in the Declaration of Independence and in our Constitution.

This was what made our nation revolutionary from the beginning; in a world tangled in the strife of race, culture, and religion as the inseparable determiners of identity and destiny, the United States simply presented a creed, available to anyone who believed in it and assented to its values. America does not belong to white people, nor are white people its scourge. America does not tolerate the idea of inherent white guilt, nor does it tolerate the idea of inherent non-white criminality. America does not discriminate based on race or religion. America belongs to those who believe in Her — the racial essentialists on both sides of the aisle have shown that they don’t really believe in America. They have exempted themselves.

While some reactions are truly irrational (posts from the far left expressing solidarity with Maduro), I have seen some valid and rational reactions I want to address. Many are outraged at what they feel is a rash or disproportionately forceful action on the part of President Trump; they feel it sets a dangerous precedent for war declaration. Many are concerned at the fallout of this decision; they fear it will lead to US involvement, escalation, or make Venezuela vulnerable. Many are suspicious of the motives of the Trump Administration; they predict Trump is exclusively interested in Venezuelan oil. I understand these concerns, but I believe all three fail to recognize other important factors that ought to be considered before coming to a prognosis.

First, this action by the Trump Administration is hardly akin to invading a sovereign country, such as Putin did to Ukraine in 2022. The operation was carried out for the purpose of capturing a dictator who has been in power illegitimately, has harbored United States enemies, has directly caused unimaginable suffering for Venezuelans, and has been wanted for narco-terrorism for years. Because of Maduro’s ironclad regime, the people have zero means or methods with which to resist or overthrow the dictatorship. I understand the concern over constitutional precedent; I have had my own concerns over the precedent set by other decisions President Trump has made. However, it’s worth noting that this action is not entirely unprecedented in category. Some argue the scenario of Maduro’s capture fits the the constitutional allowance for military protection vis a vis a law enforcement operation. Others have cited Obama’s strikes in Libya, which bypassed congressional approval out of concern for the greater good, as a similar scenario. Still others of the libertarian persuasion of Rand Paul condemn this action (as well as Obama’s Libya strikes) on the grounds that principle trumps precedent. All of these arguments warrant discussion, which ought to also be accompanied by acknowledgement of the reality and stakes of this situation from the Venezuelan perspective.

Second, the fallout of this operation remains to be seen. While I am sympathetic to the fear of military actions that may lead to disproportionate conflict (like the Iraq War), the fact is we don’t know exactly how it will play out. When the Trump Administration launched successful strikes against Iranian nuclear facilities in June 2025, many of the same voices cried WWIII. Many were sure it would lead to a full-scale military invasion and declaration of war — but it didn’t. There are also several factors at play in this situation that Iraq and Afghanistan lacked: namely, that there is a legitimate, elected Venezuelan government prepared to assume leadership, and that a civil state does exist. However the next few years play out, the reality is that Venezuela has been vulnerable for decades. This action in no way worsened their situation, and it’s hard to imagine a reality that could be worse than the one they’ve been delivered from. Perhaps 24 hours post-op is too little for a fatalistic prediction of the next 10 years.

Third, given the history of Maduro and his being wanted by the United States for narco-terrorism, claiming that the exclusive motive for this operation was oil or that this is an example of US imperialism is reductionistic. It’s also foolish to deny that the US has interest in Venezuelan oil. To his credit, Trump has admitted this interest. But the chief fact that many seem to be missing is that US interest in Venezuelan oil benefits Venezuelans. Investing in their natural resources will be one of the surest, quickest ways to rebuild and revitalize the Venezuelan economy.

The reactions from much of the political left are unfortunately on brand: they drip with condescension and saviorism. While the overwhelming majority of Venezuelans celebrate, leftist activists interrupt to tell them how it really is. The “listening and learning” they advocate for is shown to be a charade when they dismiss the lived experience of oppressed people in favor of their educated diagnosis. The western progressives chiding Venezuelans in the comment section aren’t doing so out of measured concern or care for our constitutional integrity; rather, they are using the situation as their pedestal for self-righteousness.

I have been critical of many of the Trump Administration’s actions regarding both domestic and foreign policy. I’ve publicly questioned and criticized several of our President’s decisions, and been bewildered at the tribalistic fury leveled at me from MAGA devotees. For the better part of 2025, I’ve been frustrated at the lack of principle demonstrated by many who call themselves conservative, but are quick to abandon traditional conservative principles out of loyalty to Trump. Today, I’m watching many refuse to acknowledge Maduro’s removal as the tremendous cause for rejoicing that it is, out of spite for Trump. This lacks nuance and honesty.

Principle demands that we mourn what is bad, but also that we celebrate what is good — regardless of our political party or preference.

My greatest concern is that though Maduro has been removed, his ideology remains and is espoused by other politicians in Venezuela. My greatest prayer is that freedom and flourishing would sustain victory over the cancerous ideas that caused the nation’s demise. Overall, I believe the facts of this situation ought to make us optimistic (which doesn’t negate caution, or holding our own nation accountable). This is an opportunity for people on both sides of the aisle to celebrate the collapse of a tyrannical regime, to pray for a peaceful transition of power, and to be hopeful for the future of Venezuela. Tribalism will try to convince people to be partisan more than principled. The notion of mutual exclusion will try convince people that they cannot be cautious and joyful at once. I pray that today, while the cries of freedom still echo from Caracas, Americans will reject both, and rejoice with those who rejoice.

This crowd, whose online footprint and microphone is growing with the oft-used slogan “Christ Is King”, have developed an idea that validates their prejudice: that Jesus’ being Jewish is an irrelevant quirk. Being active on social media, I am alarmed at the amount of conspiratorial accusations and libel being actively levied at Jews. Nearly every public article and post online related to the staggering rise in antisemitic incidences is subject to unconscionable comments celebrating the death of Jewish people, cheering on the vandalization of synagogues, making jocular references to medieval conspiracies about Jews.

Over the past two years, the most common source of this rhetoric has been young progressives with Palestinian flags in their bios. Now, it’s people with crosses and Bible verses in their bios who are leading the trend. There ought to be zero tolerance for racial or ethnic prejudice of any kind within the Church, but it is especially ironic for people claiming Christ to hate the people to which He belonged. Jew hatred makes a mockery of Christianity.

Jew hatred makes a mockery of Christianity because it implies God’s promise and plan to bring salvation through the Jewish people was coincidental, arbitrary, or regrettable (denying God’s sovereignty, purposefulness, and omniscience) and because it attempts to make allowance for prejudice where the gospel leaves none.

This mockery is especially ironic at Christmastime. Jesus’ advent is rooted in His Jewishness. It’s Jewish scripture that gives us the promise of Jesus’ coming. It’s the Jewish line, carefully preserved and emphasized in Scripture, that God chose Jesus to come through. It’s Jesus’ precise fulfillment of the Jewish law and prophecy that proves He is the promised Messiah — the King of the Jews, Who sent His disciples first to “the lost sheep of Israel” (Matthew 10:5-6), before commanding them to bring the gospel to every tribe and tongue.

While it’s true that excesses of dispensationalism have caused many to idolize Israel or cast judgment on believers who hold to covenantal eschatology, the greater (and increasing) problem today is an excess on the other side. Many influential voices in politics and theology are promoting conspiracies and hatred toward Jews that invert the excesses of dispensationalism they claim to criticize. In rejecting the idea that God has a distinct relationship with Israel, they embrace the idea God has distinct displeasure for Jewish people. Many of these voices claim to be presenting a biblical case against believing that there are promises to ethnic Israel yet to be fulfilled. But they aren’t making good-faith arguments and they aren’t good-faith actors. The “Christ Is King” crowd is peddling despicable antisemitism under the guise of acceptable Christian discourse.

The proof is in who their activism benefits and who it harms. If their sentiment was simply about the State of Israel, then comments and conversations would be centered around policy. If it were simply about eschatological interpretation, then Jewish people would be acknowledged as equally invited to receive Christ. If it were simply a biblical critique of dispensationalist excess, then arguments would be rooted in Scripture rather than contradicting them.

Instead, comments and conversations vilify, slander, and mock Jewish people. Slogans like “The Jews killed Jesus” normalize the notion that Jewish people are hopelessly evil and rejected by God. Arguments claiming to be biblical quickly derail into blistering contempt, contradicting Scripture’s commands to not despise Jewish people, despite their rejection of the Messiah (Romans 11). Their activism benefits the virality of antisemitism and harms Jewish people.

Christianity has always been a democratizing force, because the gospel of Jesus Christ is the great equalizer that scandalizes the world’s manufactured hierarchies. The ground is even at the foot of the cross. We’re all equal in our need for Christ, and once we are in Christ, we are equal in our status before Him. This is the gospel we are commanded to live and to share, which includes excising contrary ideas from within the Church and speaking polemically to contrary ideas outside it. Right now, that means condemning the cancerous Jew-hatred that’s metastasizing in the Church and in our culture.

This Christmas, as I do every year, I’ll celebrate the coming of my Savior and King — the Jewish Messiah — and I’ll pray for Jewish people to come to saving faith in Him.

Following state and county elections which resulted in nearly nationwide wins for the Democratic ticket, many of these graphics have begun to be circulated by conservative, Christian platforms. Indeed, this is a statistic that ought to be discussed in the Church, especially as it coincides with the trend of Christian conversion and church attendance among young men and the sharp rise in young women deconstructing and leaving the Church (a reversal of the longtime gender mismatch in the Church which favored women). As with any statistic, before we hastily launch accusations or prescribe a solution, we ought to simply ask: “why?”

But asking why seems to be the last thing that interests advocates for repealing the 19th amendment. The anti-suffrage movement is attached to a particular brand of Reformed Christianity that seeks to establish a Christian theonomy and patriarchal society. The term “Theo Bro” has become a colloquial label for this sect of Christian fundamentalism, which I’ll use for the sake of quick identification in this article. Popular voices in this space, such as Doug Wilson, Joel Webbon, and Dale Partridge, have used the statistics on the political gender divide as their prooftext for why women shouldn’t vote.

The sentiment against the 19th amendment (which constitutionally secured women’s right to vote in 1920) has been long-held among the Theo Bro crowd. Their alternative is a return to a “household vote”, in which a man casts one single vote for his family. Some go as far as to insist this is a biblical mandate. In a recently viral clip from a podcast episode, Joel Webbon stated that “repealing the 19th amendment is the Christian position.” Nevermind where he actually extracts this idea from the Bible (he doesn’t).

But the “household vote” argument is unpragmatic, if the objective is to secure more conservative votes and win more of the culture back for conservative Christian values. Being virtually impossible to legislate, it’s a rule that would have to be applied only within their churches. It wouldn’t affect women outside the church, married or single — who already represent the greatest percentage of the female progressive voting bloc. All it would do is reduce the total number of votes that couples in their church are casting (which are almost guaranteed to be conservative votes).

Instituting a household vote would actually cause a significant blow to conservatism. It is only productive if the objective is simply to forbid women from voting. Upon evaluating their arguments, teaching, and platforms, it’s apparent that the Theo Bro’s objective is just that: to ensure women have no voice or agency outside their homes and apart from men.

These men have a preconceived idea about the abilities and status of women. They go further the biblical model of submission in marriage or a traditional understanding of a woman’s role the Church — believing that all women are subordinate to all men, in all areas of life, and ought to submit as such. They perpetuate this idea in their teaching and their churches, stating that the only appropriate role for a woman is to be a wife and mother. Webbon has asserted on his podcast that women should never hold positions of leadership in any context, and that they do not belong in the political sphere (even as a participant). According to this view, women need not be educated or learn about the world or be given opportunities to think, write, and speak.

Setting aside the larger problem of insisting that extra-biblical notions are biblical and binding — on the issue of women voting, Webbon and his ilk are missing the plot. According to them, the reason women shouldn’t vote is the fact that women predominantly vote outside a biblical worldview — favoring extreme positions on abortion or LGBTQ rights, for example — and the reason women predominantly vote that way is that they were granted suffrage. When political research produces graphics on the political gender divide, the Theo Bros pounce. “This is why women should have never had the right to vote!” — they exclaim triumphantly.

The implication is that women are inherently rebellious, predictably opposed to a biblical worldview, weak-minded, or unable to grasp and apply truth. This is a far cry from what Jesus demonstrated.

It is a statistical reality that women are a deciding demographic for the legislation of progressive policies that are outside biblical prescription. If we respond to this statistic by asking why, there are two options. Either women are inherently undiscerning, foolish, and more inclined toward ungodliness than men (the option embraced by the Theo Bros), or the political left has done a better job of capturing women, appealing to their natures, interests, and inclinations. The former ought to be dismissed as itself ungodly and contrary to scripture. The latter must be embraced in tandem with the inverse truth: that patriarchy-idolizing Christian fundamentalism has repelled women and helped to create the very statistic it bemoans.

I’ve often considered the impact of under-valuing female education and ambition within highly traditional, conservative expressions of Christianity. Having grown up homeschooled in the Church, though my own upbringing was was not legalistic or fundamentalist, I had a front-row seat to families who were. One of the impacts I have observed is girls growing up thinking they aren’t meant to be scholars or pursue higher education. Even if it isn’t outright forbidden, it’s passively discouraged by the constant, exclusive emphasis of marriage and motherhood.

Another impact I have observed is girls thinking that any sort of ambition, career, or professional pursuit is worldly. In recent years, I’ve become convinced that this combination has directly contributed to the rise of spurious pyramid schemes among stay-at-home, conservative Christian women. When you forbid or discourage anyone from cultivating their God-given intellect, interests, and abilities, they are more susceptible to hop aboard the first opportunity that validates them, regardless of its legitimacy.

Similarly, when a woman is told she does not have the capacity to critically think about issues, to engage as an active participant in society outside the confines of her home, to contribute to the public square with her talents, skills, and mind — then the first ideology that promises her liberation and validation will be nearly irresistible. This has been the trajectory of many women who were harmed by fundamentalism and later embraced secular progressivism. Another common occurrence is women outside the Church who observe this treatment of women and equate it with conservative Christianity. I know women who have become convinced that conservative Christianity is synonymous with the misogynism promoted by these men.

Women outside the Church are more motivated to vote against anything remotely conservative when anti-suffrage patriarchists parrot their position as the normative, conservative Christian one.

Certainly, the progressive movement has used deception as bait. It has promised women that abortion is their right and in their best interest, rather than telling them the truth about the untold trauma and pain it causes. It has leveraged women’s naturally higher compassion and sympathy, getting them to support policies that infringe on their safety and well-being. But progressivism has also offered women a pathway to ownership over ideas and activism that religious conservatism has not. The point isn’t that progressivism is better for women — but that progressivism has done more to convince women, partly because it appeals to them as indispensable.

Of course, not every expression of Christianity takes Webbon’s view — the majority do not. Yet, there is a lack of prioritization of female discipleship in the Church at large. The Christian books and Bible studies marketed to men are robust tomes on theology, systematic commentaries, or scholarly doctrinal collections. Women get milk-toast, watered-down books full of prettily-written Bible verses, shallow application, and next to zero doctrine. Men’s studies discuss sin and soteriology, eschatological views and political theories through a biblical lens. Women get Proverbs 31 and potlucks.

If conservative Christianity wants to inspire a better turnout, it ought to start including women as intellectual equals and valuable partners in society. It ought to start believing that women are capable of deep thought, wide impact, and unique insight. It ought to educate women as much as men in theology, politics, and how they intersect — and encourage them to think and engage with issues. It ought to glean from the example of Jesus and Paul, who included, commissioned, and elevated women.

If the Theo Bros won’t do this, they prove that they are more committed to their low views of women and extra-biblical notions of patriarchal ideals than to inspiring national change or gospel engagement. For them, women’s suffrage is really just a scapegoat for problems they themselves perpetuate. The 19th amendment is law, despite anyone’s feelings. The gender divide in politics and the Church is widening, despite anyone’s tweets. The question is, what should we do about it? — but the correct prognosis requires the correct diagnosis. The anti-suffrage advocates get both wrong.