When faith becomes power, maybe it is time to check the fruit.

My days are generally spent working, spending time with my wife, watching television, talking about our someday dream home, carrying on with my dog, and playing my guitar.

I would say I lead a pretty simple life in that sense.

My workday is spent from home, in my office. It is a good job. Like most careers, it has its stressors, but it also gives me something I never really had until about five years ago: balance.

That balance changed me.

I no longer live my life for a career. I work, yes. I care about what I do, yes. But I live my life for me, my family, my home, my dog, my music, my peace.

That being said, I do miss the fellowship.

I miss the social part of going into work. Being around people every day. The conversations. The small talk. The reminder that most people are just trying to get through life like the rest of us.

I used to think I despised that part of work.

Turns out, being away from people every day can make you forget something important.

People, in general, are good.

I still believe that.

My problem is this: I spend about an hour throughout the day on social media. Reading news, glancing through feeds, checking neighborhood groups, getting spammed with advertisements, and trying to dig through all the noise.

And there is a lot of noise.

In the world of social media, and even in genuine news, noise tends to rise to the top. Stories, pictures, posts, clips, and headlines that stir emotion dominate everything. I get it. Noise sells. Noise gets clicks. Noise makes money.

Noise also shapes people.

Lately, I have noticed a trend. One that has brought real concern to me.

I do not believe everything I read, see, or hear. I do not buy into every headline or every outrage cycle. But I do tend to file things away. I have always had a pretty sharp memory, and even when something does not interest me in the moment, it can sit in some compartment of my mind until something else brings it back up.

And what keeps coming back up lately is troubling.

The trend I am talking about has always existed in some form, but over the past decade it seems to have gained a very loud and powerful base.

I am talking about certain corners of evangelicalism, the Christian Nationalist movement, and more specifically, White Christian Nationalism.

I am seeing more and more people repeat troubling “Biblical” rhetoric that often comes from influential pastors, large religious organizations, mega-churches, political movements, and media platforms. There is a lot of virtue signaling. A lot of culture war language. A lot of fear. A lot of power dressed up as faith.

And in many cases, a very profound misinterpretation of the Bible and the teachings of Christ.

In a previous piece, I explained that I come from a wide and diverse religious background. My family attended, participated in, and was connected to several different traditions. That made me who I am today: someone who believes in God, but does not follow one set denomination or religious structure.

I know that can be hard for some people to understand, so I will try to explain it simply.

I respect most views, beliefs, doubts, and questions about religion and the existence of God. I have friends who are Christian, agnostic, atheist, Muslim, Buddhist, and plenty of things in between.

I respect each person’s path as long as one thing remains true:

If you follow a religion, let it spread love, peace, mercy, humility, and understanding, not control, influence, profit, fear, or power.

Pretty simple, I feel.

I believe in God.

I believe Jesus existed and was divine.

I believe there is divinity woven through many of the great spiritual figures and traditions across humanity.

I do not personally believe God is owned by a denomination, a nation, a party, or a pulpit. God is larger than our categories. God is not confined to our human labels. God is not simply “ours” to possess and weaponize against someone else.

To me, God is universal.

I respect the Bible. I believe it is a powerful and profound work. It contains great stories, difficult stories, moral teachings, ancient accounts, human struggles, spiritual wisdom, and writings inspired by people trying to understand God and life.

I respect it as I respect the Quran, the Torah, the Shruti and Smriti, the Tripitaka, and other sacred texts from around the world.

These works, in my opinion, are excellent guides, readings, and reflections on the human search for God, meaning, morality, and purpose.

I know that may offend hardliners and fundamentalists. Atheists and agnostics may simply shrug it off. That is fine. I am not trying to convert anyone to my personal way of seeing things.

At the end of the day, I believe love is universal.

The key is whether a path leads people toward caring, helping, nurturing, fellowship, kindness, mercy, and respect for fellow human beings, animals, and life itself.

I know that sounds like a dream.

But it does not have to be.

When Faith Becomes Power

The current trend that concerns me most is the way some evangelical movements have positioned themselves inside politics.

That is a line that should never be crossed casually.

Religion and politics, when fused together, rarely produce anything good. History has shown us that over and over again.

What concerns me is not simply that religious people are involved in politics. Everyone has a right to vote, speak, organize, and care about their communities.

What concerns me is when faith becomes a tool for domination.

What concerns me is when Jesus is used as a mascot for political power.

What concerns me is when the teachings of Christ are twisted into slogans that justify exclusion, fear, resentment, superiority, and control.

Because that does not sound like Jesus.

At least not the Jesus I read about.

Love vs. Power

Jesus taught:

“Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.”

Christian Nationalism often teaches that America must be “reclaimed” for Christians, usually through political power, exclusion, and the demonization of those seen as enemies of the faith.

Jesus called people to love enemies.

Christian Nationalism often needs enemies in order to survive.

Those are not the same thing.

Humility vs. Dominance

Jesus taught that whoever wants to be great must become a servant.

Christian Nationalism often teaches that Christians are called to dominate earthly institutions: government, media, education, law, business, and culture.

The goal becomes control, not service.

But Jesus did not wash feet as a campaign strategy.

DAKindiger

He washed feet because humility was the point.

The Poor vs. The Powerful

Jesus stood with the poor, the sick, the outcast, the foreigner, the sinner, the grieving, the wounded, and the marginalized.

His first public message announced good news to the poor and freedom to the oppressed.

Yet much of modern political Christianity seems most comfortable standing beside wealth, influence, celebrity, and power.

That should bother us.

When a religious movement becomes more protective of the powerful than the vulnerable, something has gone wrong.

God’s Kingdom vs. National Identity

Jesus said his kingdom was not of this world.

He refused to be made into a political king. His message transcended borders, ethnicity, empire, and nationality.

Christian Nationalism often teaches that America has a special divine covenant with God, that to be a “true American” is to be Christian, and that national identity and Christian identity are inseparable.

But Jesus never taught that.

Jesus did not come to create a holy nation-state.

He came preaching the Kingdom of God.

Those are very different kingdoms.

Inward Faith vs. Outward Performance

Jesus warned against practicing righteousness in public just to be seen by others.

He criticized religious leaders who made a performance of their faith while neglecting mercy, justice, and humility.

Yet today, many of the loudest voices in political religion seem obsessed with public displays: prayer as performance, government-backed religious symbols, Christian branding, and public declarations of righteousness.

That is exactly the kind of religious theater Jesus seemed to warn against.

Faith that needs a spotlight may need to ask itself why.

Universal Neighbor vs. Exclusive Membership

Jesus told the Parable of the Good Samaritan for a reason.

The neighbor was not the person everyone expected. The hero was not the insider. The example of mercy came from the outsider, the foreigner, the person Jesus’s audience had been taught to distrust.

That was the whole point.

Your neighbor is not just someone from your group.

Your neighbor is not just someone who votes like you, worships like you, looks like you, speaks like you, or loves like you.

Your neighbor is the person in need in front of you.

Christian Nationalism, by contrast, often draws sharp lines between who belongs and who does not. It suggests, directly or indirectly, that real Americans are Christians and that everyone else is somehow less rooted, less loyal, or less legitimate.

That is not the Gospel.

That is gatekeeping with a Bible verse taped to it.

DAKindiger

Forgiveness vs. Judgment

Jesus said, “Judge not, that you be not judged.”

He extended grace to tax collectors, prostitutes, Samaritans, Romans, sinners, doubters, and people the religious establishment had already written off.

He seemed far more interested in restoration than condemnation.

Yet political religion often thrives on judgment. It needs villains. It needs outrage. It needs someone to point at.

It turns faith into a courtroom and appoints itself judge.

But Jesus did not tell us to build our lives around condemnation.

He told us to look at the fruit.

Many Christians See the Problem Too

It is worth saying clearly: many of the strongest critics of Christian Nationalism are Christians themselves.

This is not Christianity versus non-Christianity.

This is a question of what kind of Christianity is being practiced, preached, sold, and enforced.

Many Christian leaders, churches, and organizations have warned that Christian Nationalism is a distortion of the Gospel. They see the danger in confusing the cross with the flag, confusing discipleship with domination, and confusing the Kingdom of God with the Kingdom of America.

And that is the core contradiction.

Jesus’s central message was the Kingdom of God, a kingdom built on love, forgiveness, humility, service, mercy, and radical inclusion that crossed national, ethnic, religious, and social boundaries.

Christian Nationalism is often about the Kingdom of America, built on political power, cultural dominance, national identity, and exclusion of those who do not fit a narrow definition of who belongs.

Those two visions are not just different.

By the standards of Jesus’s own recorded words, they often appear opposite.

So, What Would Jesus Think of Christianity?

Based on the Gospels, I think Jesus would look at much of organized religion today with the same concern he directed toward the religious leaders of his own time.

His harshest words were not usually aimed at sinners, outsiders, or the broken.

They were aimed at the religious establishment.

He called some of them whitewashed tombs, beautiful on the outside, but empty within. He criticized those who used religion to gain power, wealth, status, and control while neglecting justice, mercy, and faithfulness.

So when I look at mega-churches with enormous wealth, politically connected religious organizations lobbying for power, and prosperity preachers telling people that God rewards faith with financial success, I have a hard time believing Jesus would be impressed.

I think he would see through it.

I think he would ask where the poor are.

Where the sick are.

Where the hungry are.

Where the stranger is.

Where the prisoner is.

Where the grieving are.

Where the rejected are.

Where the love is.

At the same time, I believe Jesus would recognize the countless quiet and unsung expressions of faith happening around the world every day.

The soup kitchens.

The homeless shelters.

The prison ministries.

The people sitting with the dying.

The churches welcoming refugees and immigrants.

The neighbors helping neighbors.

The people feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the lonely, and loving people who can offer them nothing in return.

That sounds like Jesus.

That sounds like Matthew 25.

That sounds like the kind of faith that does not need a microphone.

I believe Jesus would draw the same sharp line he always drew, not between the religious and the irreligious, but between those whose faith produces love, justice, mercy, and service, and those whose faith produces status, exclusion, fear, and political power.

By his own standard, the label “Christian” matters far less than the fruit it bears.

Check the Fruit

That is my conclusion, sitting here with my dog at my feet and my guitar in the corner.

I am not telling you what to believe.

I would never.

I am only asking you to watch what is being sold to you in that hour, or more, that you spend scrolling. The same way I have had to watch it myself.

When a message reaches you wrapped in a flag and a Bible verse, do not check the label first.

Check the fruit.

Ask whether it is selling you love or selling you power.

Because the two are not the same.

They never were.

And the same goes for sitting in church listening to a pastor, a speaker, a politician, or any person standing above a crowd with a microphone.

Is the message leading you toward love?

Or is it teaching you who to fear, who to resent, who to exclude, and who to look down on?

Love, not division.

Mercy, not dominance.

Service, not spectacle.

Humility, not power.

I still believe people are good.

Always will.

I said that at the beginning, and I meant it.

The noise wants me to forget that.

I refuse.

God is bigger than the microphone.

Love is bigger than the flag.

And no man standing above the crowd gets to tell you otherwise.

Pretty simple, I feel.

DAK