It was early on a Wednesday morning. There was a slight chill in the air. Not the kind of chill carried by fresh wind and fresh hope for a new day. No, this was the chill of cold metal ducts carrying cold air into cold rooms filled with bodies hoping to remain warm.

I stood underneath the over-bright lights designed to imitate daylight in a way that comes as close to sunlight as an Amazon Alexa does to the warmth of a conversation.

On this otherwise dreary Wednesday morning, amid the dull thrum of medical machinery, there sprung forth a raw energy, warmer than any blood-pumping heartbeat, and more akin to sunshine than any fluorescent light ever could dream of being.

I stood in the background as four pairs of hands, clasped in desperate hope and defiant courage, took center stage.

The life of a pastor is interesting. How is it I find myself sitting in on these holy moments?

A pastoral moment

Anne is a member of my church who was facing a major surgery to remove a tumor resting on her brain. Survival wasn’t an assumption. At a minimum, bad news from a closer look at the mass in her skull was anticipated.

I looked on as daughter gripped the hands of mother and father, who each gripped the hands of daughter and son, completing a circle of fear and faith, horror and hope. Would this be the last conversation they would share with their beloved? Would things ever be the same?

In the ministry of care, you will find yourself thrust into these moments—moments that feel intrusive to observe, much less participate in. And yet, in these moments, you will find yourself having a part to play.

Often it is in the most insecure times, when people are faced with their own mortality, that you will be expected to speak up, to have an answer. If this is a new space for you, you may find yourself wondering what to say when words feel like they never could be enough.

If that’s you, here’s the secret sauce: It’s not you who will make a difference. If that feels deflating, allow me to reframe. It’s not you who will make a difference, but there is someone in you who can.

Letting the Holy Spirit flow

When someone looks to you to be the harbinger of hope, there is nothing more natural than to want to have the answers, to be the help they’re looking for. But to present yourself as the solution to questions of eternity is to present yourself as a god. That is a recipe for disaster. That is a burden you can’t possibly bear and a burden you don’t have to bear.

Does that mean you should stay quiet? By no means. These moments of care are moments to speak, moments to rise up. But not in your own strength.

As a Christian woman or man, something goes with you into every space, every conversation. That something is the infinite love, contagious joy and unexplainable peace of God through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. These are moments to let the power of the Holy Spirit flow through you in three simple ways—presence, Scripture and prayer.

Presence

Perhaps the greatest thing you bring to the ministry of care is the power of presence, of simply showing up. Being in the room with someone who is suffering can have an incalculable impact without even saying a word.

The wisdom of Ecclesiastes 4:12 reflects on this: “Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.”

There is something woven into the fabric of our being that demands community. How wonderful is the presence of one who carries the presence of the One.

Scripture

However, you obviously can’t sit there in silence forever. At some point, you have to open your mouth and speak. While it can be tempting to try and come up with a profound bit of wisdom or some overused pastoral axiom, you never can go wrong by keeping it simple.

One helpful way to look at pastoral care is to look at it as a ministry of reminder. As the Holy Spirit reminds us according to John 14:25-26, we serve as God’s mouthpiece by reminding those in our care of the simple and wonderful promises of Scripture.

Maybe it’s a beautiful Psalm for the suffering or one of the promises of Jesus, such as John 16:33: “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

Whatever you choose, when you give someone Scripture, you give them something that can speak to them long after you leave and can speak more deeply and appropriately than you ever could (Hebrews 4:12).

Prayer

Finally, in these holy moments of care, as obvious as it may sound, you always should pray. To pray is to reach out to the source of everything you’re looking for.

Rather than directing people to the hope you bring, to pray—and to encourage the suffering to pray—is to remind people of the unfathomably intimate connection they have in relationship with the trinitarian community of love—Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

As the medical team came in signaling the time had arrived, there was one thing left to do. All the caregiving I had done for this family culminated in one pinnacle moment.

I stepped forward to the bedside, eyes pooling with hot tears. The chain-link circle of hands opened and shifted from a circle of blood to a circle of a different sort of family.

Warmth passed from hand to hand as I slowly looked each person in the eyes, finally landing on Anne, and said: “God loves you more than you can possibly imagine. He has promised to always be with you. Let’s pray.”

Zachary Anderson serves as discipleship pastor of Covenant Methodist Church, in The Woodlands and is working toward a Master of Divinity at Baylor University’s Truett Theological Seminary. The views expressed are those of the author.

(RNS)—That’s what I posted on X a few days ago, and it’s still going viral.

By the way, the “biblical womanhood” industry is also a scam. But the situation that prompted my post—the firing of Aaron Ivey from his position as worship pastor at a Texas church over indecent texts with men—was yet another case of predatory sexual behavior by a pastor selling the message of “biblical manhood.”

Note: I didn’t say “biblical manhood”—how that is defined is an open question, hence the quotation marks—is a scam. I said the industry around it is a scam.

By industry, I am referring to a definition like this one in the Cambridge Dictionary: “something that is produced or is available in large quantities and makes a lot of money.”

Defining ‘scam’

Of course, not everything that’s produced or available in large quantities and makes a lot of money is a scam. So, why would I say the particular industry around “biblical manhood”—as well as “biblical womanhood”—is a scam?

First, because, as noted above, what constitutes “biblical manhood/womanhood” is not only not clearly defined, but its definition is highly contested. The term originated, after all, in order to make a boundary, strike a mark and create a brand as a reactionary move amid the culture wars.

Furthermore, the tropes most commonly invoked within the discourse around “biblical manhood” distort—or even misrepresent—what the Bible teaches about virtue and character for men as well as women.

David wasn’t a warrior wearing armor. He was a shepherd with a slingshot guided by the Lord. Samson’s strength came not from bench presses and leg lifts, but from the Spirit of the Lord.

Paul’s admonition in 1 Corinthians 16:13 to “act like men” means in the original Greek to be courageous, and it applies equally to men and women, just as all of the qualities of Christlike character do.

Second, just as women’s fashion magazines exist by creating needs and desires women wouldn’t have otherwise and then offering the “solutions” to these manufactured needs, Christian publications also can operate on similar capitalistic and consumeristic principles.

Certain topics—those that get at our core identities and callings, in particular—are more prone to manipulation. This vulnerability derives from basic human nature, but when a spiritual or religious layer is added on top of those basic human needs, the potential for exploitation rises considerably.

Stereotypes

Stereotypes around manhood and womanhood are rooted in both nature and culture. Like all stereotypes, they emerge out of something truthful. But the calling of the Christian transcends culture. The church is the last place where cultural stereotypes should be upheld as biblical truth.

The worship leader who doesn’t like football shouldn’t feel out of place in the church because of that. The sales manager who is a godly husband, father and Bible teacher shouldn’t feel less manly because he doesn’t enjoy the outdoors. The IT guy who does most of the cooking is just as masculine as the one who doesn’t.

Steve Bezner, pastor of Houston Northwest Church, shared these examples with me in a recent conversation. He said once he saw machismo was being confused with spiritual maturity, it changed the way he taught and ministered to men in his congregation.

Rather than relying on the warrior as a metaphor for manhood, Bezner said, he extols the character of Christ in all its complexity and finds the men in his church doing better as a result.

Defining ‘industry’

Certainly, the line between offering a creative work or product and becoming an industry can be fine. Lessons and sermons on character and godliness in all our roles are good and necessary. I think in particular of someone teaching principles of manhood to prison inmates or the fatherless and, in doing so, changing lives in important ways.

Moreover, the people who speak, write and teach these things certainly are worthy of their pay. The fact something costs something doesn’t make it an industry.

But messages that gather into a storm of books, conferences, videos, courses, workbooks, workshops, websites, podcasts and statements are inarguably an industry. Furthermore, when the industry is fronted by celebrities and personalities—often the sock puppets of bigger names behind the curtain—the message risks being lost behind the messenger.

And when the people behind the industry don’t live up to or even believe the message themselves, then it’s a scam. Even if the message is true. Like all machines, industries can eat people alive. And such machines distort or destroy the gospel message itself.

The industry cycle

In my recent book The Evangelical Imagination, I devote an entire chapter to the notion of “improvement,” showing how this early modern concept contributed to the rise of the self-help movement in the 19th century and has spilled over into Christian thinking and practice today. Many of the publications centered on “biblical manhood” and “biblical womanhood” are just a continuation of this Victorian—and secular—movement.

Indeed, as Daniel Vaca shows in Evangelicals Incorporated: Books and the Business of Religion in America, over the course of the 20th century, the publishing industry created a “commercial religion”—one in which publishers and booksellers create consumers’ desires, along with the authors and celebrities constructed to fill those needs. What follows is a vicious cycle that cultivates the demand that perpetuates the supply.

Thus arose the “evangelical industrial complex,” a term coined by Skye Jethani in 2012. The phrase alludes to a similar one made famous by President Dwight Eisenhower in his 1961 speech warning of the unintended consequences of America’s unrestrained expansion of the military and its self-perpetuating arms industry: the military industrial complex.

Both the military industrial complex and the current-day evangelical version are driven by systemic economic forces, Jethani explains. In the case of the evangelical industrial complex, the driving economic power is the Christian publishing industry.

And the unintended consequence in this case is the endless proliferation of images of manhood—and womanhood—that ever expand an appetite they cannot satisfy, yet lead further and further away from the one and only One who can.

Karen Swallow Prior was research professor of English and Christianity and Culture at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary and is the author of several books. The views expressed are those of the author.

(RNS)—Not long ago, I stood in my front yard and did something I’d been procrastinating about for months.

I put up a yard sign.

It’s a simple sign—a heart, decorated with stars and stripes, sits on a background above five simple words: “Hate has no home here.” The message is repeated in five other languages—Urdu, Korean, Hebrew, Arabic and Spanish.

It’s a message so simple a child could understand it—in fact, the message on the sign was coined by an elementary school student from the north side of Chicago, where all those languages are spoken.

The signs, designed by a friend who is one of the student’s neighbors, went viral in 2017 during the protest over what became known as the “Muslim ban,” an executive order barring entry to immigrants from a number of countries, most with Muslim majorities.

The ban was seen as an attack on immigrants—and a sign of the greater polarization in the country, where we define ourselves more and more by who we hate.

We had a similar sign in front of our place in Tennessee, in part because my friend designed them. When we moved a few years ago, the sign got lost. It took me a while to order a new one. Then the new sign sat unopened for more than a year in its package on a shelf in my office.

Why?

Because I was concerned about living up to the words on the sign, which I have begun to read differently over the past few years.

To put up that sign meant claiming that hate has no home—not just in my neighborhood but in my own home. And in my own heart.

It’s one thing to reject hateful policies or actions. It is another thing to refrain altogether from hating the people behind those policies or actions—or to keep hate from driving my decisions, especially in a time when we Americans love to hate each other.

The function of hate

Hate makes so many things easier. No more trying to understand complex issues or attempting to see the world through someone else’s eyes or doing the hard work of understanding other people and their points of view.

Things become simple—I am good and the people I don’t like are evil. Anything I do that harms or dismisses or stands in the way of those evildoers is justified.

Let me be clear. There are trivial things I love to hate, like the New York Yankees. I was born and raised a Boston Red Sox fan. Or the fact I no longer can get a chocolate coconut donut at Dunkin’.

There are more serious things we should hate: cancer, or the harm done by sexual abuse in the church and church leaders’ sometimes callous disregard. We should hate intentional and systemic injustice.

But it is all too easy to go from hating things to hating people.

“Hate makes us feel righteous,” wrote social psychologists Kurt Gray and Will Blakey in an essay called “They Hate Me.”

Hate gives us license to feel good being cruel to others. This righteous cruelty drives much of our political discourse today.

There are whole industries of people who sow conflict and distrust for profit or, worse, for the dopamine hits that come with going viral on social media, where hate has become our favorite cash crop.

Wise or foolish?

One of the wisest parables I know comes not from the Bible or other book of wisdom, but from an episode of “Star Trek” called “The Day of the Dove,” which debuted in November 1968.

In this episode, the crew members of the Enterprise find themselves locked in a battle for survival against their fierce rivals, the Klingons. The Klingons believe the crew of the Enterprise attacked without warning. The crew members of the Enterprise thought they were betrayed while on a mission of mercy.

As the fight rages on, each side becomes more convinced of the righteousness of its cause—and begins to accuse its enemies of atrocities that never really happened.

It turns out they all are being deceived by an alien who feeds conflict and who likes nothing more than to feast on hatred, real or imagined. And when the two crews discover the deception—that they are being used—they lay down their weapons. In doing so, they banish the alien from their presence.

“Only a fool fights in a burning house,” one of the Klingons says, in explaining why he gave up hate in that moment.

I fear, in these present days, many of us are fools fighting in a burning house.

And I do not wish to be a fool anymore.

Bob Smietana is a national reporter for Religion News Service. The views expressed are those of the author.

(RNS)—A friend recently shared on Facebook an AI-generated image depicting four heart-warming scenes of Donald Trump and Joe Biden basking in one another’s company like two old grandpas.

In one, they are smiling side by side on a wooded hiking trail, an arm slung across the other’s shoulders. In another, they are luxuriating on the grass under a tree before a picnic spread.

Another shows them cooking together in a farmhouse kitchen laden with fruit, cake, flowers and copper pots. Yet another pictures them seated together in a cozy room in front of a table of yarn, pulling inextricably at the string, engrossed, rapt, wearing color-coordinated fuzzy sweaters.

It’s the sweaters that really get you. Sure, their broad smiles, the way they appear to be sharing an inside joke at the picnic, the aprons—it’s all surreal. But those sweaters are the kicker.

My friend’s post went viral. When I shared it, it did the same. To be sure, there’s plenty of fun to be had with these crazy AI inventions. Plenty of important questions about AI to be raised, too. And this post did all that. And more.

Caution about AI

First, my friend captioned the image with the coy disclaimer, “AI will fix everything.” This wink-and-nod was wise. Of course, AI won’t fix everything. It will likely make a lot of things worse, as was her point.

For one thing, as unbelievable as these images are for any number of reasons, there are certainly those out there who don’t recognize fake news as fake news. Such was the case before AI, but it’s only going to get harder now to distinguish between what is true and what is a deepfake.

This is an issue we must address intentionally in our communities, in our personal interactions and online, where these things spread the fastest.

The obvious fakeness of this meme (and my friend’s caption) gently but clearly warned that these fakes are going to be out there as we get deeper into the election season. Most will not be as benign as this one. It’s a fun way to offer the reminder that “seeing” is not necessarily believing these days.

I recently was interviewed by the folks at AI and Faith on some of these questions. Of all the questions AI raises, the religious ones are some of the most important and interesting. One of the greatest fears about AI is the possibility it will strip us or our faith communities of our humanity or cause us to trust one another less.

Surprises of AI

But this image of Trump and Biden as buddies demonstrates something else, something deeper and more poignant—about both AI and humanity.

Most responses I received to the image reflected the humor of it. Humor at its core arises when something deviates from what is normal or expected. If I slip on a banana peel, that’s funny because it’s not what’s supposed to happen.

Jokes that work well do so because the set-up leads to the unexpected in the form of a punchline. Comedy—low or high, gentle or satirical—operates on this principle of a gap between expected and unexpected.

These images of Trump and Biden as jolly old friends, dressed in basic clothing, doing normal things, smiling and laughing, offer the unexpected on multiple levels.

We seldom if ever see either of these men look this way or act this way. Biden perhaps does so more, which only adds to the layers of the unexpected: Seeing Biden act affectionately toward his son, as he has been famously depicted as doing, is one thing; toward his sworn political enemy is another.

On the other hand, there is no context whatsoever within our social imagination for seeing Trump in the way he is depicted in the image. So, the first unexpected thing the picture offers is this: these two particular men appearing this particular way, and with one another.

That leads to an unexpected thing. One of my friends commented that he found the picture strangely affecting. Others made similar observations. If we didn’t know who these two people were, we’d think this image was simply one more bad, sentimental example of unsophisticated AI art (there are clues—check out the hands and the yarn in that last scene) depicting a Hallmark-worthy scene of two old men passing their days in a lovely retirement home.

Promises of AI

But seeing these two particular men in these kinds of scenes taps into a sense of yearning some of us perhaps didn’t know ran so deep: We have missed normalcy these recent years past, and we desire normalcy so very much.

If only these leaders were this human. If only we all were. These images remind us it is—or once was—possible for political and ideological opponents to be kind, to take hikes, to play a game together, to wear soft, colorful Cliff Huxtable sweaters.

But no. Even Cliff Huxtable is fake. To drill home the point, the man who played him, Bill Cosby, has been convicted of sexual assault and accused of more such crimes by dozens of women.

Figuring out what is true and what is a lie has been an ongoing problem, one long before the development of AI, one that continues to plague us. But sometimes the fictions and the fakes serve to remind us of what we rightly desire—and rightly ought to pursue.

Karen Swallow Prior was research professor of English and Christianity and Culture at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary and is the author of several books. The views expressed are those of the author.

Franklin Graham recently expressed his reservations about the Church of England’s decision to conduct trial blessing services for same-sex couples.

On Nov. 21, 2023, Graham shared on his Facebook page that it was “a sad day for the Church of England,” basing his disagreement on his belief in the biblical definition of marriage.

However, this moral stance faces scrutiny when juxtaposed with his support for Israel’s actions, particularly in the ongoing Gaza war—a situation widely condemned as a form of genocide against the Palestinian people.

Graham’s support for Netanyahu

Graham’s recent meeting with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu during a tumultuous period in the region has come under intense scrutiny. Despite the extensive losses and destruction in Gaza, Graham portrayed Netanyahu—seen by many as a war criminal—as the one in need of prayers and support. This raises concerns about the selectivity of Graham’s compassion, especially given the severity of the situation.

A perusal of Graham’s Facebook page and the Samaritan’s Purse website, where Graham serves as president, reveals a substantial focus on Israel and a notable absence of coverage on Palestine. This not only impacts Graham’s Christian authenticity, but also questions the credibility of the organization as an objective evangelical Christian humanitarian aid group.

While not suggesting a shift to “hating” Israelis or halting aid, it is crucial to be objective, credible and honest when addressing the Palestinian people, their cause and their suffering.

Furthermore, Graham’s unwavering endorsement of Israel’s actions in the ongoing Gaza war, despite numerous allegations of human rights abuses, war crimes and genocide, contributes to the perception of inconsistency in his actions.

By aligning himself with the oppressor and praising Netanyahu without addressing the origin of the conflict and the suffering of the Palestinian people, Graham’s stance raises profound questions about the universality of his compassion and the moral compass he adheres to.

Betrayal of Palestinian Christians

“Sometimes you look and say, ‘Why?’ Or you look and say, ‘Lord, what can we do?’ The need is so great. But we serve a big God and he’s familiar with suffering. … So, we’re going to do what we can to help the people here in Israel. And do it in Jesus’ name,” Graham said during his recent visit to Israel.

His statement not only is a betrayal to all Palestinians and Arabs, but it also is deeply hurtful when viewed through the eyes of Palestinian and Arab Christians. This also disrespects the millions of Christians globally who sympathize with the Palestinian cause.

The irony deepens when contemplating the plight of Palestinian Christians, who have faced substantial losses during the ongoing war, encompassing killings, ethnic cleansings, destroyed homes, businesses, hospitals and churches.

Graham’s failure to acknowledge the suffering of these Christians and his apparent alignment with Netanyahu, the one accountable for their oppression, contradicts the principles of compassion and justice inherent in Christianity.

Significantly, Graham’s apparent disregard for the challenges faced by Palestinian Christians, who according to Christian doctrine do not fall under the category of enemies, raises concerns about the consistency of his genuine care and support for all individuals affected by the conflict.

The absence of advocacy for specific prayers for Palestinian Christians, especially those sharing the same church community, is unsettling and prompts inquiries into the depth of his compassion. Was there even any consideration for their emotions, pain and suffering?

Why not pray for all parties?

This prompts the question: If Graham genuinely believes in the efficacy of prayer and adheres to Jesus’ teachings, why not extend prayers to perceived enemies?

Underlining the necessity to pray for the well-being and safety of all parties involved, including Palestinian Christians and churches, could contribute to a more inclusive and compassionate narrative.

The apparent dichotomy of compassion displayed by Graham raises important questions about the consistency of his beliefs and actions. The selective focus on certain issues and the neglect of others, particularly regarding the suffering of the Palestinian people, challenges the integrity of individuals claiming to speak on behalf of God.

As Christians, it is essential to embody the teachings of Jesus with an unwavering moral stance that upholds the principles of compassion, justice and inclusivity.

Action beyond prayer

Christians possess both spiritual and political influence, granting them a pivotal role in advocating for enduring peace, equality, liberty and justice. Mere prayers are not enough. We must take bold and resolute action to prioritize the well-being of all parties involved.

This commitment necessitates unwavering condemnation of violence; the eradication of occupation, apartheid and discrimination; and the unwavering advocacy for equal rights and dignity, free from any form of prejudice.

Let us passionately engage in initiatives that propel lasting peace, steadfastly uphold human rights and ardently foster justice, leaving a tangible and significant impact on a more equitable and peaceful world. Let our actions embody the teachings of Christ.

By critically examining influential figures such as Graham, we can navigate the complexities of global conflicts with a clear moral compass rooted in Christian principles. Consistently adhering to these principles allows us to strive for a world where compassion, justice and inclusivity triumph over selective compassion and global hypocrisy.

As an Arabic proverb wisely suggests, the depth of our admonishment reflects the depth of our love for others.

Jack Nassar is a Christian in Ramallah, Palestine, who strives to foster positive change in the public, private, nonprofit and academic realms. The views expressed are those of the author.

UPDATE: As reported by the Associated Press on Jan. 11, an Ohio grand jury declined to return an indictment against Brittany Watts for “abuse of corpse” following her miscarriage that took place at home.

(RNS)—The justice system finds itself in a new world when it comes to abortion and the rights of women.

Last month in Texas, Kate Cox, pregnant with a nonviable fetus that threatened her future fertility, sued the government to gain a medical exception to the state’s near total ban on abortions. After the Texas Supreme Court barred her access to an abortion, she fled to obtain the medical procedure across state lines.

Yet the story that haunts me most is that of 33-year-old Black Ohio woman, Brittany Watts.

Watts miscarried at 21 weeks and five days of pregnancy into her home toilet. Earlier that week, a doctor had informed her that due to her preterm labor, the fetus would not survive. She miscarried at home. Then she flushed both the fetus and the afterbirth.

But she kept bleeding, even after keeping an appointment with her hairdresser. So, she went to an emergency room at a nearby Catholic hospital. That’s when a nurse called the police, suspecting she’d performed an illegal abortion.

Police charged Watts with “abuse of corpse,” a felony that could result in a year of prison time. An Ohio grand jury will decide her case this month.

Agony of miscarriage

Miscarriage is an agonizing experience even without a litigious system peering over your shoulder.

A pro-life Christian, a mother of two myself and a former birth doula, I believe God creates each baby that exists and God knows each zygote from before its conception.

Yet, I am also flummoxed about the lack of compassion and empathy shown by pro-life activists and policymakers toward women put in such precarious circumstances that affect both them and their offspring.

Whatever the circumstances, a late-term abortion due to a life-threatening pregnancy complication is a last resort, the worst possible option for every woman I know, whether pro-life or pro-choice. A woman must undergo all the suffering of pregnancy, labor and postpartum without the reward of a child to make the pain worth it. She then must grieve additionally the loss of her child.

The “choice” is agonizing: Will she choose her own life or her child’s? In the case of miscarriage, the loss of control exacerbates the situation. Often women feel as if their own bodies have betrayed them. The grief is profound, and the physical suffering is worse for it.

Watts’ case

At the time Watts miscarried, more than halfway through pregnancy, a fetus of that gestation would be big enough to induce real childbirth, with the hallmark lengthening contractions, hormones, impossible pain and exhaustion.

Watts’ health records show she experienced days of labor symptoms without pain medication. When she finally passed the baby, she must have felt relief, terror and grief.

But the case hinges on what happened after the miscarriage: Watts flushed. And then she continued with her day, going to a hair appointment … until she no longer could ignore the bleeding.

A nurse, who had encountered Watts in her previous hospital visits, asked what had happened, and Watts answered truthfully, apparently adding she had tried to dispose of the fetus herself—unsuccessfully. Police later discovered fetal remains lodged in her pipes.

The nurse assumed the worst: a live abortion. But even after a forensic pathologist’s autopsy determined the fetus had died before labor, having experienced no injury during or after labor, Watts was charged.

Watts’ lawyer, Traci Timko, insists though Watt’s actions sound callous, she had done what most women do when they miscarry at home. What else would you do with a miscarried fetus?

Since Watts’ intentions seem to be on trial, it’s worth noting she has said though her pregnancy was unintended and she hadn’t informed her family of it, she planned to keep her baby.

She also had made multiple trips to St. Joseph’s Hospital in Warren, Ohio, not to get an abortion, but to save her baby. Her miscarriage proceeded without the oversight of the medical practitioners only because, according to her lawyer, hospital staff had deemed her case too legally risky to take on.

For this, Watts faces criminal charges, even though Ohio law does not clearly define the “abuse of corpse” statute, and current laws do not define how a miscarrying person should dispose of remains.

Miscarriage and law

As Timko has pointed out: “Women miscarry into toilets every day. If the state of Ohio expects these women to fish those remains from the toilet and deliver them to a hospital, funeral home or crematorium, the laws need [to be] changed.”

What is law in Ohio is the right to abortion, a right Ohio citizens recently voted into their state constitution.

According to The Associated Press, studies show Black women seeking prenatal care at hospitals were 10 times more likely than white women to have their cases referred to the authorities.

The callousness of our legal system toward women like Brittany Watts is astonishing. What does our country gain by dragging these women into court? What precedent will Ohio set by putting Watts into prison? And how many other women will receive delayed treatment—or be denied treatment outright—while hospital administrators debate liability risks?

A Christian response

Whether we believe in the right to abortion or not, Christians, who are in the forefront of pushing for abortion bans, must allow for exceptions in situations of miscarriage, rape and sexual assault and life-threatening circumstances for both mother and fetus.

We must seek to understand the situations of those forced to make the most agonizing decisions of their lives. And we must extend empathy to the grieving. If we do not, we will find ourselves guilty of the judgment of Ezekiel 34:4: “You have not strengthened the weak or healed the sick or bound up the injured. … You have ruled them harshly and brutally.”

Let those of us with power instead govern with mercy.

Liz Charlotte Grant was a certified birth doula and is an author and essayist. The views expressed are those of the author.

Amid a cascade of profound theological declarations in Romans 8, the Apostle Paul pauses to pose this probing question, “What shall we say then to these things?” (v. 31). This is the question being asked of me vis-a-vis Denny Burk’s recently posted Baptist Press op-ed.

My answer is, “Rather a lot.” But like the writer of Hebrews, I do not have the time or space to say all that might be said (Hebrews 11:32). So, allow me to say what I believe needs to be said in the limited space allotted to me.

Background to Burk’s op-ed

A charitable reading of Burk’s article reveals his desire—as a Southern Baptist Theological Seminary employee and president of the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood—to clarify for Southern Baptist Convention-insiders the considerable confusion that has arisen regarding the so-called “Law amendment” and its impact upon “friendly cooperation within the SBC.”

For those who do not participate in or follow SBC life, a word of explanation is in order. This past summer, messengers to the SBC annual meeting held in New Orleans voted by a wide majority—roughly 88 percent—to amend Article 3.1 of the convention’s constitution to include, and thereby stipulate, only “churches that affirm, appoint, or employ only men as any kind of pastor or elder as qualified by Scripture” may be adjudged to be in “friendly cooperation” with the SBC.

In June 2024, the SBC convention will gather in Indianapolis. They will vote again on this proposed amendment, which first was brought forward as a motion by Virginia pastor Mike Law—thus the “Law amendment”—at the annual meeting of Southern Baptists in Anaheim in 2022. Should a super-majority of messengers to the 2024 annual meeting also be found to favor the motion, then the constitution would be amended.

For his part, and in contrast with, for example, well-known North Carolina pastor and former SBC president J.D. Greear, Burk believes such an amendment is a natural and necessary outgrowth of what the Baptist Faith & Message 2000 affirms, to wit: “While both men and women are gifted for service in the church, the office of pastor/elder/overseer is limited to men as qualified by Scripture” (Article 6, “The Church”).

Summary of Burk’s op-ed

In his op-ed, Burk invites SBC-faithful not to take their eyes off the proverbial ball. The issue at hand, he insists, is not “whether women may serve in church staff positions.” Neither is it, he maintains, “whether women should teach mixed-gendered Sunday school classes.”

Burk is even willing to bracket off complementarianism, despite his dogged devotion to the same. To be sure, the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood, over which he presides as president, is predicated upon complementarianism.

If such issues are not in view, then what are “the precise issues in dispute?” For Burk, when the smoke clears and the dust settles, the ongoing debate, which he hopes against hope soon will be resolved once and for all, revolves around “whether the Baptist Faith & Message [2000] allows for women to be pastors” and “whether the Baptist Faith & Message [2000] should be the basis for friendly cooperation within the SBC.”

As Burk sees it, the Baptist Faith & Message 2000, which he understands to be biblical, does not allow for churches to call women as pastors. Neither does he think it advisable, to say the least, for cooperating churches to do so.

Thus, according to Burk, churches who call women “pastors” and to serve as such, be they “senior” or “associate,” are in open defiance of the Baptist Faith & Message 2000, the convention’s “statement of faith,” and thus cannot be regarded in friendly cooperation with the SBC.

In what amounts to a get-out-and-vote-for-the-amendment stump speech, Burk is at pains to convince and convert those who are wavering or might be inclined to think there is room for compromise regarding women serving in pastoral roles other than “senior pastor.” To no one’s surprise, for him, there is no “middle way” here. Such is only a mirage, he maintains.

Because Burk is convinced a pastor is one and the same as an elder and overseer, only men may serve in such a capacity, and that the Baptist Faith & Message 2000 faithfully enshrines such biblical truth, he necessarily concludes there is no room in the SBC for churches who think and practice otherwise.

The deleterious impact of such renegade SBC churches—on SBC mission agencies and seminaries—who fail to walk in lock-step uniformity with every jot and tittle of the Baptist Faith & Message 2000, not least with respect to who may and may not be called “pastor,” should not be underestimated, he warns.

What is a stake? Rather a lot, Burk believes. In his way of seeing things, any SBC church who calls a woman to be a pastor of any type is in clear defiance of the measure of all things pertaining to faith and practice for SBC churches—the Baptist Faith & Message 2000.

Thus, they should be regarded as non-cooperative and, by way of logical extension, excluded from the SBC—such as Saddleback Church and Fern Creek Baptist Church were at the New Orleans convention. One can be forgiven for wondering what has become of the historic Baptist principle: “No creed but the Bible, no Lord but Christ.”

The convictions and commitments that lead Burk—and those of his tribe—to such conclusions are crystal clear. The Baptist Faith & Message 2000—as they would interpret it—is to be perceived and employed as the unassailable authority for doctrinal and ethical accountability in SBC life.

Relatedly, there is no room whatsoever for variation or difference on how best to regard and to refer to women engaged in ministry. They are not to be pastors or called such, because the Bible and Baptist Faith & Message 2000, as they read them, tell them so. One cannot help but wonder if the Baptist Faith & Message 2000 has become the “norming norm” for the SBC.

Five points for Texas Baptist churches to consider

As a life-long Texas Baptist writing primarily to Texas Baptists, some of whom might also regard themselves to be Southern Baptists, I would be remiss if I failed to make at least the following points in response to Burk’s earnest plea to SBC loyalists:

1. On the Texas Baptists website, one finds the following regarding beliefs: “The 1963 Baptist Faith and Messagehas been adopted by messengers of the Baptist General Convention of Texas annual meeting. Some BGCT churches use other confessions of faith, including the 2000 Baptist Faith and Message. Neither confession of faith is a requirement for inclusion in the BGCT.”

If strict adherence to neither the 1963 nor 2000 Baptist Faith & Message is a prerequisite for involvement in BGCT life, the same cannot be affirmed by Burk regarding SBC life, where the 2000 Baptist Faith & Message is meant to reign supreme.

That being said—and this should not be swept under the denominational rug—there is only one Baptist Faith & Message BGCT messengers have approved formally, namely, the 1963 Baptist Faith & Message.

2. Given the priority of the 1963 Baptist Faith & Message among Texas Baptists and the latitude allowed cooperating churches within BGCT life with respect to confessions of faith, how Southern Baptists in general and Burk in particular might perceive or respond to a given BGCT congregation need not be a cause of anxiety, unless, of course, a given BGCT congregation also wants to be regarded in “friendly cooperation” with the 2000 Baptist Faith & Message-directed SBC.

Were the 2000 Baptist Faith & Message to be used in the fashion Burk envisions, all BGCT churches who are not also 2000 Baptist Faith & Message churches—both in principle and practice—no longer should be considered SBC churches in friendly cooperation.

3. Being misguided by the 2000 Baptist Faith & Message, Burk—and not a few others in SBC circles—unnecessarily conclude the terms and titles “pastors,” “elders” and “overseers” are more than less one and the same. Meanwhile, a careful study of the New Testament evidence, which unfortunately is not possible here, reveals the terms are not used interchangeably.

Whereas the term “elder” (presbyteros) occurs regularly within the New Testament with reference to a leadership role and/or office within churches (see, for example, Acts 11:30; 14:23; 15:2, 4, 6, 22, 23; 16:4; 20:17; 21:18; 1 Timothy 4:14; 5:17, 19; Titus 1:5; James 5:14; 1 Peter 5:1, 5; 2 John 1; 3 John 1), the word “overseer” or “bishop” is used sparingly (Philippians 1:1; 1 Timothy 3:1, 2; Titus 1:7), and the term translated “pastor” (poimenas), which is paired with “teacher” (didaskalos), appears but once in the entire New Testament witness (Ephesians 4:11).

Furthermore, there are any number of New Testament texts that unequivocally refer to women actively engaged and integrally involved in gospel work and witness and in ecclesial leadership and service.

While neither those women nor their male counterparts are explicitly given the title “pastor” within the New Testament, terms such as “deacon” (diakonos), “co-worker” (synergos), “sister” (adelphe) and perhaps even “apostle” (apostolos) are employed to refer to such women as Phoebe, Prisca, Apphia, Junia and their numerous female pastoral counterparts.

Truth be told, pastoral/ministerial roles and responsibilities for women and men in the first century church do not map easily or perfectly onto the 21st century church, and vice versa. Thus, careful exegesis, hermeneutical humility and faithful discernment are required.

4. Regarding women pastors, be they “senior pastors,” “associate pastors” or other types of “pastors” for that matter, thankfully they exist in considerable numbers in Texas Baptist congregations—so, too, in Baptist General Association of Virginia churches and in other Baptist fellowships the world over.

It is my hope and belief women pastors called by God and BGCT churches will continue and increase in the coming days, even if outside of the SBC, which may well be the case. For my part, I will continue to work toward the good, gospel end of training and encouraging women grasped and gifted by God for pastoral ministry.

5. Finally, now would be an opportune time for any number of BGCT churches to discuss and to discern whether they also are SBC churches, and if not, to begin to decide where they might want to invest the financial and human resources they have been sending to the SBC through the BGCT year after year.

Furthermore, for those BGCT churches who have women pastors on ministerial staff, it might well be wise to be proactive. If the perspective of Denny Burk wins the day, then those Texas Baptist churches will sooner than later be on the outside of the SBC looking in because of their “defiance” of the 2000 Baptist Faith & Message, to which churches in “friendly cooperation” owe unalloyed allegiance, especially when it comes time to determine who may and may not be called “pastor.”

Whatever happened to local church autonomy and authority to determine such a matter, one wonders?

Todd Still is dean and professor of Christian Scriptures at Baylor University’s Truett Theological Seminary. The views expressed are those of the author.

NOTE: A response to this op-ed can be found here.

As Southern Baptists look toward the Southern Baptist Convention annual meeting in Indianapolis next year, we all know there are at least two major decisions ahead of us.

The first relates to the second vote on the “Law amendment,” which passed overwhelmingly in New Orleans but requires a second vote in Indianapolis.

The second relates to the forthcoming report from the Cooperation Group that will be considering changes to the SBC’s governing documents.

These aren’t separate issues but two facets of the same issue—how the Baptist Faith & Message 2000 regulates our cooperation as Southern Baptists, particularly as it relates to women serving as pastors.

What is not being debated

I have done my best to listen to brothers and sisters on all sides of the issue, and I have discovered no little bit of misunderstanding among some about the precise issues in dispute.

Southern Baptist aren’t debating whether women may serve in church staff ministry positions. Of course, they can and do, and I can’t think of any Southern Baptist who would say otherwise.

Nor are Southern Baptists debating whether women should teach mixed-gendered Sunday school classes. That’s an interesting question that has been the subject of perennial debate, but it’s not something addressed by the Baptist Faith & Message and certainly not something requiring official action by the SBC.

Nor is this debate about how to define complementarianism. The Baptist Faith & Message is our doctrinal statement, and it doesn’t even mention the term complementarianism.

What is being debated

Rather, the debate we are facing centers on two things: (1) whether the Baptist Faith & Message allows for women to be pastors, and (2) whether the Baptist Faith & Message should be the basis for friendly cooperation within the SBC. We can discern at least two different points of view on these questions among Southern Baptists.

There are some who argue the Baptist Faith & Message allows for women to be pastors, and the Baptist Faith & Message does not constitute a basis for friendly cooperation. On this view, churches may call female pastors and may disagree with the Baptist Faith & Message on any given point and still be deemed to be in friendly cooperation with the SBC.

On the other side are those who believe the Baptist Faith & Message clearly does not allow women to serve as pastors, and churches in friendly cooperation should not openly defy the Baptist Faith & Message. On this view, calling women to serve as pastors and defying the SBC’s statement of faith are not consistent with friendly cooperation.

How are we to reconcile these two different points of view within the SBC? That is the question the Cooperation Group is trying to answer right now as I type these words.

We should pray for them and their deliberations. But we also should begin thinking about the way forward ourselves.

The temptation will be to try and split the difference. However, I don’t see a stable “middle way” between the two sides, although some have suggested there is one.

For example, some wish to rewrite the SBC’s governing documents so women can serve as associate pastors but not senior pastors, and so cooperating churches might have to adhere only to part of the Baptist Faith & Message and not the whole Baptist Faith & Message.

This “middle way” option is only a mirage and not actually a middle way. Here’s why.

Failings of a ‘middle way’

Reach of biblical qualifications

If the SBC says the Bible allows women to serve as associate pastors, then on what basis would we say they can’t serve as senior pastors? The Bible doesn’t make a distinction between associate and senior pastor. It just speaks of the office of pastor/elder/overseer.

If you conclude the Bible allows the one, then there would be no biblical basis for disallowing the other. If you say your associate pastors don’t have to “manage their own households well” or be “the husband of one wife” (1 Timothy 3:2, 4), then on what basis would you require such a thing of senior pastors?

If the “middle way” allows for associate pastors to ignore the male-only qualification, what other biblical qualifications may be set aside among our cooperating churches? Either the qualifications for pastor apply to all pastors, or they don’t apply at all. That is the inevitable conclusion.

So, this particular “middle way” is no middle way after all. It would simply mean cooperating churches can ignore the biblical qualifications for pastors, and I don’t think Southern Baptists ultimately will view that as a solution.

Degree of adherence to Baptist Faith & Message

If the SBC changes its governing documents so churches need closely identify only with parts of the Baptist Faith & Message, then those parts would become the de facto doctrinal statement of the SBC.

Churches that need identify only with parts of a Baptist Faith & Message are likely not going to tolerate mission agencies and seminaries that exclude their partial adherence to the Baptist Faith & Message. Eventually, the partial-affirming churches will demand the entities become partial-affirming as well. That is how the de facto partial-affirming confession eventually would replace the Baptist Faith & Message.

The logic of the “middle way” position inevitably leads to affirmation of female pastors and to churches no longer having to closely identify with the Baptist Faith & Message. Southern Baptists ought not to embrace such a trajectory under the banner of adopting a “middle way.” Such a “middle way” will lead to a place Southern Baptists do not wish to go.

We are deciding right now who we are going to be as cooperating churches. Our debate really does come down to whether we believe the Bible allows for churches to call women as pastors and whether cooperating churches ought to be able to defy the Baptist Faith & Message. That is the bottom line, and I’m praying Southern Baptists see that and choose wisely when we get to Indianapolis.

Denny Burk is professor of Biblical studies and director of The Center for Gospel and Culture at Boyce College. He is also the president of the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood. The views expressed are those of the author.

WASHINGTON (RNS)—One of the most dangerous things about former President Donald Trump is the way he has normalized hate speech. The venom and vitriol come so often that even when it is reported, its extremism fails to register with a fatigued and desensitized public.

For a campaign that began with vulgar boasts about grabbing women by the genitalia and the mocking of a disabled reporter, to a presidency marred by repeated nods to white supremacists, it’s no surprise Trump has produced outrage after outrage throughout his post-defeat, perpetual-vengeance campaign.

Even as a scholar who has tracked Trump’s rhetoric and its impact on his followers carefully since 2015, I have found myself, too often, responding to Trump’s latest hateful outburst with a demoralized shrug.

Back in early 2016, I was keeping a list. It soon became unwieldy and impossible to keep up. Over the last eight years, the sheer volume has made us, collectively, comfortably numb.

But Trump’s most recent comments should jar us back to our senses. They signal something new, even for Trump—that he has now fully embraced the rhetoric and strategies of the Nazis. If we care about democracy and the safety of all of our neighbors and fellow citizens, we can’t dismiss these comments as typical bluster or with a wave of the hand because “Trump is just being Trump.”

In this own words

Here’s what former President Donald J. Trump—the leading GOP presidential candidate—has said in the last few weeks:

• “Root out … the vermin.” This past weekend, Trump was in New Hampshire, where he delivered a nearly two-hour rambling tirade on Veterans Day. Trump’s closing should send a chill up the spine of every student of history and everyone who cares about democracy: “We pledge to you that we will root out the communists, Marxists, fascists and the radical left thugs that live like vermin within the confines of our country that lie and steal and cheat on elections. They’ll do anything, whether legally or illegally, to destroy America and to destroy the American Dream.”
• “Poisoning the blood of our country.” On Oct. 5, a late September interview Trump gave to a right-wing website surfaced in which he made these bigoted and unfounded claims about immigrants: “Nobody has any idea where these people are coming from, and we know they come from prisons. We know they come from mental institutions and insane asylums. We know they’re terrorists. Nobody has ever seen anything like we’re witnessing right now. It is a very sad thing for our country. It’s poisoning the blood of our country. It’s so bad, and people are coming in with disease. People are coming in with every possible thing that you could have.”
• “The threat from within.” Trump’s Veterans Day speech also encouraged his followers to view their fellow citizens as agents of evil: “The threat from outside forces is far less sinister, dangerous and grave than the threat from within. Our threat is from within. … Despite the hatred and anger of the radical left lunatics who want to destroy our country, we will make America great again!”

In the past, one of Trump’s favorite rhetorical games was to make hateful statements, only to wave them off with half denials when challenged. Trump’s behavior these last weeks signals that he’s moved beyond even that tactic. Trump doubled down on the use of “vermin” to describe his political opponents in a Truth Social post the same day as his speech.

And when The Washington Post reached out to the Trump campaign to respond to criticisms that these comments echoed the rhetoric of Nazi and fascist leaders, Steven Cheung, a Trump campaign spokesman, replied defiantly, “Those who try to make that ridiculous assertion are clearly snowflakes grasping for anything because they are suffering from Trump Derangement Syndrome and their entire existence will be crushed when President Trump returns to the White House.” Note: In a puzzling move, the Trump campaign later tried to amend the statement to replace the phrase “entire existence” with “sad, miserable existence.”

In graduate school, I concentrated in political philosophy and ethics, where I was rightly trained to be wary of arguments that tried to score rhetorical points by deploying a Nazi analogy, a move sometimes called “reductio ad Hitlerumin” in philosophical circles. This tactic is a logical fallacy, typically taking the form of a slippery slope argument (“this policy sounds like it would lead to …”) or an ad hominem argument (“you know who else made a claim like that?”).

Basically, the invocation of Hitler or the Holocaust in an argument about something else is illegitimate, because it is intended to be a conversation stopper by making hyperbolic claims about consequences or impugning the speaker as Hitler-like.

But I fear that our rightful reticence to invoke an inappropriate Nazi analogy has rendered us incapable of calling out instances of actual Nazi ideology.

Consider ‘Mein Kampf’

What we are hearing from Trump over the last few weeks are not Nazi-like statements, but outright Nazi sentiments. Lest you think I am exaggerating, here are just a few selections from Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf that are soberingly similar to Trump’s most recent rhetoric.

• Mein Kampf uses the term “vermin” three times and “rats” four times. Here is a sample: “The time seemed to have arrived for proceeding against the whole Jewish gang of public pests … Now that the German worker had rediscovered the road to nationhood, it ought to have been the duty of any Government which had the care of the people in its keeping, to take this opportunity of mercilessly rooting out everything that was opposed to the national spirit. While the flower of the nation’s manhood was dying at the front, there was time enough at home at least to exterminate this vermin.”
• Mein Kampf references the word “blood” nearly 150 times, mostly in the context of notions of purity vs. contamination or poison. It notably intermixes references to both ethnicity and culture. References to blood as ethnicity appear right up top in chapter one with this claim: “German-Austria must be restored to the great German Motherland … People of the same blood should be in the same Reich.”

And here is Hitler railing against what he saw as a Jewish-controlled press, with a metaphorical reference to blood as culture: “And so this poison was allowed to enter the national bloodstream and infect public life without the Government taking any effectual measures to master the course of the disease. The ridiculous half-measures that were taken were in themselves an indication of the process of disintegration that was already threatening to break up the Empire. For an institution practically surrenders its existence when it is no longer determined to defend itself with all the weapons at its command.”

And this: “All the great civilizations of the past became decadent because the originally creative race died out, as a result of contamination of the blood.”

• Mein Kampf also characterizes the real threat to Germany as enemies within the country: “For never in our history have we been conquered by the strength of our outside enemies but only through our own failings and the enemy in our own camp.”

And again: “The strength of a nation lies, first of all, not in its arms but in its will, and that before conquering the external enemy the enemy at home would have to be eliminated.”

In the words of George Orwell

In 1940, after Hitler had invaded Poland sparking a war with France and England that eventually led to World War II, George Orwell reviewed a new edition of Mein Kampf in the New English Weekly. His words about Hitler—written five years before Animal Farm (1945) and nine years before Nineteen Eighty-four (1949)—are prescient for the American context today:

Ever since (Hitler) came to power—till then, like nearly everyone, I had been deceived into thinking that he did not matter—I have reflected that I would certainly kill him if I could get within reach of him, but that I could feel no personal animosity. The fact is that there is something deeply appealing about him. One feels it again when one sees his photographs—and I recommend especially the photograph at the beginning of Hurst and Blackett’s edition, which shows Hitler in his early Brownshirt days. It is a pathetic, dog-like face, the face of a man suffering under intolerable wrongs. In a rather more manly way it reproduces the expression of innumerable pictures of Christ crucified, and there is little doubt that that is how Hitler sees himself …

One feels, as with Napoleon, that he is fighting against destiny, that he can’t win, and yet that he somehow deserves to. The attraction of such a pose is of course enormous; half the films that one sees turn upon some such theme …

Whereas Socialism, and even capitalism in a more grudging way, have said to people “I offer you a good time,” Hitler has said to them “I offer you struggle, danger and death,” and as a result a whole nation flings itself at his feet. Perhaps later on they will get sick of it and change their minds, as at the end of the last war. After a few years of slaughter and starvation “Greatest happiness of the greatest number” is a good slogan, but at this moment “Better an end with horror than a horror without end” is a winner. Now that we are fighting against the man who coined it, we ought not to underrate its emotional appeal.

Continued strong support

If we ever could, we certainly can no longer afford to think that Trump does not matter. He is the presumed nominee of one of America’s two major political parties; no other Republican candidate is within striking distance. In virtually every national poll—and in recent battleground state polls—a two-way election between Trump and Joe Biden is a tossup.

In PRRI’s recent American Values Survey, conducted in partnership with the Brookings Institution, nearly all voters who supported Trump in 2020 (94 percent) said they planned to support him in 2024. More than three-quarters of white evangelicals — along with nearly 6 in 10 of both white non-evangelical/mainline Protestants (57 percent) and white Catholics (59 percent)—say if the election were held today, they would vote for Trump. These levels of support from white Christians are virtually unchanged from 2016 and 2020.

Like other successful authoritarian leaders, Trump has uncanny political instincts. Ever since he rose to power, his MAGA mantra has been conjuring a vision of an ethno-religious, white Christian state. His use of the phrase “poisoning the blood of our country” conjures both ethnic (where a contemporary conception of whiteness stands in for Aryan ethnicity) and metaphorical (where white Christian nationalism becomes the American expression of Hitler’s call for a new German Weltanschauung) visions of things that are to be kept pure and protected from defilement.

His characterization of immigrants as dangerous, deranged and diseased is setting the stage for what likely future Trump administration appointees, such as Stephen Miller, have promised will be “the most spectacular migration crackdown” and “the largest deportation operation this country’s ever seen” should Trump be re-elected.

Trump’s calls to “root out … vermin” who present a sinister threat from within the ranks of Americans intentionally dehumanizes, in the eyes of his followers, all those who oppose him. The word “vermin” is a peculiar and deliberate word choice in political speech. Its appearance on Trump’s lips is no accident.

Appeal to Christian audiences

Finally, it is important to understand the religious dimensions of Trump’s rhetoric. As I’ve documented extensively (e.g., see the Afterword in White Too Long), Trump has regularly appealed to white Christian audiences by promising to protect and restore the power of Christian churches.

Speaking to a raucous crowd in New Hampshire on Oct. 23, Trump vowed to reinstate a Muslim travel ban and halt all refugee resettlement to the United States. Then he went on to say this: “I will implement strong ideological screening of all immigrants. If you hate America, if you want to abolish Israel, if you don’t like our religion—which a lot of them don’t—if you sympathize with the jihadists, then we don’t want you in our country and you are not getting in. Right?”

At his rallies, Trump’s favorite closing incantation of “one people, one family and one glorious nation under God” echoes the rhythms of Hitler’s “Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Führer” (one people, one realm, one leader).

Taken together, Trump’s recent statements reflect a willingness to trade in well-known Nazi propaganda tactics. Unlike Hitler, his speech most explicitly targets Muslims and immigrants rather than Jews—but it’s a risky bet to think American Jews won’t eventually be targeted if they don’t fit Trump’s narrow, rather Christian understanding of what he sees as America’s “Judeo-Christian” culture.

But Trump’s rhetoric follows the blueprint used by Hitler and other authoritarian leaders who dehumanized their political opponents to enhance their own power. Ultimately, these Nazi tactics are the bricks that pave the road to political violence.

Indeed, we are already seeing the seeds of political violence sprouting in American soil, not only in the deadly insurrection at the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6 but in what Trump’s followers are prepared to accept.

One of the most disturbing findings of PRRI’s American Values Survey was the increase in support for political violence. The number of Americans who agreed that “Because things have gotten so far off track, true American patriots may have to resort to violence in order to save our country” has jumped from 15 percent to 23 percent over the past two years. Today approximately 1 in 3 Republicans (33 percent) and white evangelical Protestants (31 percent) believe that political violence might be necessary to save the country.

Moreover, among those who believe the big lie that the 2020 election was stolen from Trump, support for political violence rises to nearly half (46 percent). Among those who affirm the so-called Great Replacement Theory that immigrants are invading the country and replacing real Americans, and among those who understand America to be a divinely ordained promised land for white Christians, support for political violence rises to 4 in 10 (41 percent and 39 percent respectively).

Trump knows exactly what he is doing, and so should we. We should be clear about the basis of his appeal to his followers. And we should anticipate the violence to both our country and our neighbors that is sure to follow if he is re-elected to the presidency.

Robert P. Jones is CEO and founder of the Public Religion Research Institute and the author, most recently, of The Hidden Roots of White Supremacy and the Path to a Shared American Future. This article first appeared on his Substack newsletter. The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of Religion News Service or the Baptist Standard.

I am quite distressed by the current political situation in the United States. The drawn-out scuffle for Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives is just one example. Watching the drama in Washington has brought to mind lessons I’ve learned over the years as a drama teacher.

When I first started directing plays with young people back in Sioux City, Iowa, I quickly realized I could not make it my primary objective to put on a great play.

When a fabulous production was my goal, I ended up making decisions that were not necessarily in the best interests of the students I was teaching. Their growth was the primary goal, and I had to keep that in the forefront of my mind to stay on track.

I think we’re committing a similar mistake as a nation. We’ve made America too important.

Wrong hope

Over the course of human history, nations have risen and fallen. America may fall at some point, too, which will be tragic but not cataclysmic. Though the United States might crash and burn, the kingdom of God still will survive. In fact, God’s kingdom might flourish all the more.

Contrary to the belief of many on the Christian right, the United States is not a chosen people. We are not the hope of the world. The hope of the world is Christ.

We’ve also made the American government too important. It seems we expect our government to solve all the problems in our country.

“The American people are immoral, selfish and stupid,” we say. And how do we fix that? Pass laws so nobody sins anymore. Create social programs so nobody suffers anymore. Fix the educational system so everyone knows all the right things and none of the wrong things.

What are we thinking? When did morality become Congress’ domain? When did the president become the hope of the oppressed? When did the powers that be become the source of all truth? Are these not the domain of Christ? Yes, they are. I’m quite sure of that, in fact.

Wrong goals

We are focusing on the wrong goals. If our goal is to make America great—by whoever’s definition—then we will be tempted to do things that are not good for the people of America and things that certainly are not in line with God’s kingdom.

I do fear for our nation. I love my country. But my primary citizenship is not in this young, experimental republic. My primary citizenship is in God’s kingdom—a kingdom not of this world.

Saving the country in a political sense is not my desire. God’s kingdom is my desire. Let us never forget God’s kingdom is not the least bit dependent on the success of the United States of America. But it does require God’s people to behave like God’s people—serving others, denying themselves, and following Christ above all.

Gwendolyn Joy lives in the San Antonio area and is a member of Woodland Church. This article is adapted from her original post. The views expressed are those of the author.

The enduring conflict between Israel and Hamas once again has ignited a powder keg of historical tensions beginning to explode in the tumultuous Middle East.

The situation has reached a critical juncture, with a significant loss of life, as evident from the mounting death toll, which tragically includes more than 1,200 Israelis and 1,500 Hamas fighters at the time of writing.

While the geopolitical complexities and long-standing historical grievances underlying this conflict have been documented meticulously, this article takes a unique perspective. It delves into the response of Arab Evangelicals to the ongoing atrocities.

In doing so, this article seeks to provide insight into the role and convictions of this particular group in the midst of the turmoil, shedding light on their perspective in a complex and highly sensitive context.

In 1978, Hamas—an acronym for Ḥarakat al-Muqāwama al-Islāmiyya (the “Islamic Resistance Movement”)—was established by Sheikh Ahmed Yassin in conjunction with the Muslim Brotherhood movement.

Since its inception, and despite the fact many Arab countries have established peace treaties with Israel, Hamas and other Palestinian groups assumed the responsibility of confronting Israel until the establishment of Palestinian sovereignty across the entire country.

In the early stages of this conflict, Arab Christians found themselves at the heart of the turmoil. Some took up arms against Israel, while many opted for different paths. However, today, in the midst of the raging war, Arab Christians in general, and Arab Evangelicals in particular, bear witness to the depth of pain and suffering endured by both parties.

The death toll on either side continues to mount, families are torn apart, and children are left orphaned. To many observers, it seems as if the sanctity of human life has been overshadowed, and individuals have become reduced to mere numbers.

Created in God’s image

As Arab Evangelicals, it is impossible not to recall the words of God in Genesis 1:26: “Then God said, ‘Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness’” (LSB).

The phrase “image of God” does not imply a physical resemblance to God, as God is a spirit (John 4:24). Instead, it signifies a more profound concept that underscores the dignity and worth inherent in every human being due to their creation by God.

This concept encapsulates the unique relationship between God and humanity, entrusting humans with the responsibility to exercise dominion and stewardship over creation.

The renowned Reformed theologian Herman Bavinck articulated this in Reformed Dogmatics: God and Creation when he noted:

“The essence of human nature is its being [created in] the image of God. The entire world is a revelation of God, a mirror of his attributes and perfections. … But among creatures, only man is the image of God, God’s highest and richest self-revelation and consequently the head and crown of the whole creation, the imago Dei and the epitome of nature” (p. 530-31).

Hence, the response of Arab Evangelicals to the Palestinian-Israeli conflict is firmly grounded in the Bible-based belief in the sanctity of human life. This principle is deeply embedded in Christian doctrine and transcends the political divisions and ethnic animosities that long have characterized the region.

Arab Evangelicals maintain a resolute commitment to the intrinsic value of every individual, regardless of nationality or ethnicity. In the midst of violence and suffering, their message resounds clearly: Human life is sacred.

Witnessing the tragic loss of life—be it infants or adults and irrespective of their skin color, language or nationality—is a heart-wrenching experience. God created humanity with dignity. However, sin not only separated us from God and rendered us spiritually lifeless, but it also induced us to vilify one another and cease recognizing each other as bearers of God’s image.

Dependence on prayer

Growing up in a region steeped in more than half a century of war and conflict has, unfortunately, led many, including myself, to become accustomed to the proximity of war. While this is a somber reality, it also has taught me and countless others that our ability to change our reality is profoundly limited.

This inability to alter our circumstances has bred a profound sense of dependence on God to intervene. It has transformed the words of Proverbs 3:5–6 into a lived reality.

For this reason, Evangelicals in the Middle East understand and believe prayer is not solely a means of communication with God, but it is a potent instrument for change. In the midst of the intricate geopolitical landscape, Arab Evangelicals turn to prayer as a wellspring of hope, guidance and transformation.

At the heart of our prayers as Arab Evangelicals, we express a profound and unwavering longing for more than just an end to the ongoing conflict and suffering in the region. Our prayers extend beyond the immediate cessation of hostilities to encompass a broader and more enduring aspiration that both Israelis and Palestinians may come to embrace Christ as their Lord and Savior.

This profound desire demonstrates a belief that transcends national and political boundaries, reflecting a deep conviction that genuine spiritual transformation is the foundational element for achieving lasting peace.

The recognition that political solutions, although essential, may not be adequate to address the deep-seated wounds and grievances deeply entrenched in the region is central to this perspective.

True peace

As Arab Evangelicals we understand the issues at the core of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict are multifaceted and encompass historical, religious and socio-political dimensions. We firmly believe true and lasting peace will fully materialize only when the Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6) returns.

In essence, this perspective emphasizes that while political agreements and negotiations can mitigate immediate tensions, the true path to lasting peace lies in the spiritual transformation of individuals and communities, paving the way for a future where both Israelis and Palestinians can coexist harmoniously.

In a region marked by religious, ethnic and political divisions, the words of His Majesty King Abdullah II of Jordan, a prominent advocate for peace in the Middle East, resonate: “Let us have ambitions. Ambitions to move beyond the violence and occupation, to the day when two states, Palestine and Israel, can live together, side by side, in peace and security.”

Today, our prayers as Arab Evangelicals encompass two vital aspects—praying for an end to the war and for the spread of the gospel.

Dr. Andrew is an Arab scholar and pastor. His name has been concealed for security concerns. The views are those of the author.