In my last article, I argued believer’s baptism is important because of what it says about the nature and composition of the church. The same is true for another Baptist distinctive—the priesthood of all believers.

This conviction—often derived from 1 Timothy 2:5, 1 Peter 2:4-10 and Revelation1:4-6—has been a source of tremendous encouragement for Baptists throughout the centuries. But when it is misunderstood, it also can be the source of much mischief.

Defining the doctrine

Millard Erickson describes the priesthood of the believer this way:

“All persons are capable of relating to God directly. … There is no need of any special intermediary. All have redemptive access to the Lord. And what is true of the initiation of the Christian life is also true of its continuation. Each believer can discern God’s will directly” (Christian Theology, Second Edition, p. 1096).

We learn from Erickson that the doctrine has two dimensions. Christologically, the doctrine insists Jesus is the only mediator between God and humanity.

As the writer of Hebrews insists, Christ is a sufficient mediator precisely because he is the perfect sacrifice—the sinless Son offered on behalf of a sinful humanity—and because his offering was made out of complete and willing obedience to the Father.

Ecclesiologically, the doctrine asserts every person has both the right and the responsibility to come before God.

As Erickson insists, this capacity does not extend merely to an individual’s initial prayer for acceptance into God’s kingdom through faith. It also includes the believer’s ongoing engagement with God.

Erickson couches this ongoing engagement in terms of the discernment of God’s will, but for reasons we will discuss below, Stanley Grenz locates the believer’s activity as priest first and foremost in her or his intercession for other believers (Theology for the Community of God, p. 647).

This presentation of the doctrine can seem a bit two-dimensional and disjointed. But in the second volume of his Systematic Theology, James McClendon Jr. demonstrates the doctrine is neither of these things (Doctrine, p. 368.)

For McClendon, it is the direct result of Christ’s redemptive activity, resulting in “deliverance from the world of sacral authorities into the world of the good news.” Its consequences are nothing less than a radically reshaped relationship with status and power.

Jesus’ instructions in response to his disciples’ jockeying for position is not merely a commentary on effective leadership. It is an expression of the church’s essence and a call to live out its implications (Mark 10:35-45 and parallels). It even bears witness to a new set of metrics for judging human conduct (Matthew 23:1-12).

Defending the doctrine

But can the doctrine be defended from Scripture?

As I indicated above, the Christological dimension of this doctrine is beyond doubt. The old priesthood has been replaced by a single High Priest, one whose reign and service are eternal and whose sacrifice is qualitatively superior to those provided by the old sacrificial system (Hebrews 6:19-10:22).

But what about the ecclesiological dimension? 1 Peter 2:4-10 is the only text that explicitly associates believers with a priestly identity, and as Michelle Lee-Barnwall points out in Neither Complementarian Nor Egalitarian, the accent in that text is on the identity of believers as a whole, not on the identity of any individual believer (notice the phrase “royal priesthood” in vv. 5, 9).

Hence, it could be argued that Peter’s emphasis is on how the church as a whole fulfills a priestly function in its cultural context.

Grenz and McClendon, however, do not base their reflections upon the doctrine in 1 Peter. They do what the venerable apostle did, turning to the Old Testament—and especially to Exodus 19:5-6—to enrich their understanding of this core Baptist conviction.

It is true enough that God eventually instituted a priesthood within Israel, but McClendon implies this was not God’s primary intention.

Rather, Israel was to stand apart as a “holy nation” with one King, a people who by their words and by their lives pointed other nations to God. In that sense, they performed the most basic function of priests—interceding between God and humanity—and served as forerunners for those who believe in Jesus.

This is why Grenz highlights intercession as the primary—though not the exclusive—arena of priestly activity. When believers pray for one another, they are entering the very presence of God on behalf of their brothers and sisters in Christ. In so doing, they are enacting Paul’s model of the church as a spiritual family, advocating for one another out of love.

In turn, they listen for God’s voice. God can, of course, decide not to speak. None of this negates the revolutionary assertion that any person is capable of hearing from God, and God may decide he only wants to speak to the person directly affected by the church’s prayers. But the church is a family, and sometimes we are too emotionally compromised to perceive the truth.

We need a loving brother or sister to come alongside us, put his or her arms around us, and help us receive from our Father in heaven what we otherwise may not have the strength to bear.

Concerns, questions and contributions

Despite the ways religion has changed in the West over the past 2,000 years, the priesthood of all believers still can feel like an oddly fitting suit of clothing for some.

There is comfort in assuming our spiritual welfare is someone else’s problem. More importantly, it is frightening to think God has entrusted the teenaged metalhead or the back-row gossip with the responsibility of representing Christ to the world.

Our fears about this doctrine are not entirely unfounded.

As Karen Bullock points out in her Pinson Lecture, the priesthood of all believers is not a license to do whatever we want, and it is not a claim that individual people are sufficient to the task of reconciling themselves with God or living a God-honoring life. She has to issue these warnings because people sometimes have construed the doctrine in these ways.

Nevertheless, we should not underestimate the importance of the priesthood of all believers.

It coheres nicely with the presupposition all humans are created in the image of God, and it reminds us Christ had a particular preference for children and other outsiders—people who lacked the credentials to wield spiritual, moral or political authority but who received the message of the coming kingdom with faith, hope, joy and love.

The truth is all of us are the supposedly misguided teenager or the annoying old person. We all are the recipients of that shake of the head that says, “Lord, I think you’ve lost your mind this time.”

And yet, Christ not only receives us into his kingdom, but also appoints us as his priests. We are entrusted with the sacred responsibilities of bringing our broken, distorted selves to God for forgiveness and healing, of weeping in his presence on behalf of our brothers and sisters in Christ, and of sharing his good news with those—both inside and outside the church—who need to hear it.

Of course, there always will be questions related to this doctrine. For example, how should it affect our understanding of the pastoral office?

And there always will be those who wield it as a defense against accountability.

But when properly understood, the priesthood of all believers is one of the Bible’s most profound affirmations of human dignity, and it can encourage us to hang in there when the fight for godliness seems utterly without purpose, benefit or end.

Wade Berry is pastor of Second Baptist Church in Ranger and has been resident fellow in New Testament and Greek at B.H. Carroll Theological Seminary. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

It will be a huge mistake if Florida state lawmakers pass a bill requiring all of Florida’s public state universities and colleges to rename one roadway on their campuses after the assassinated conservative activist Charlie Kirk.

The party of Trump and Turning Point USA are portraying Kirk as a righteous martyr. From 2015 to 2024, Kirk used God (Jesus) and Holy Scripture to win votes for an immoral, greedy, autocratic politician, Donald Trump.

God is not fooled when we use God (Jesus) to promote our selfish pursuits of taking our country down the wide road of white Christian nationalism. God doesn’t choose our political leaders. In a democracy, we the people elect them.

It is wrong to lionize Charlie Kirk. Kirk should not have been assassinated. It was an evil act that took his life. No one should celebrate his death. Everyone can pray for and empathize with Kirk’s wife and two young children. May we do so.

Paul Whiteley Sr.
Louisville, Ky.

In Baptist life, the title “director of missions” creates various images of people and responsibilities.

Urban DOMs

In urban settings, the DOM often is a mission strategist. He or she is an executive director who oversees a plan to extend the gospel among diverse people groups, a variety of economic circumstances and in a specific region. There often is a sense of executive coaching among urban DOMs.

I recall an urban DOM at a pastor’s retreat who spent two days explaining how to use various phone apps to manage time better in 15-minute increments. In a region that requires three hours to make a hospital visit, his view of time was different than ours.

In Houston, San Antonio or Fort Worth, the title “director of missions” means something very different than it does in Mexia, Pittsburg or Hico.

Rural DOMs

In rural life, the concept of a director of missions is rooted in the relationship between an individual and the churches.

In my first pastorate, I heard stories of Franklin Swanner (retired 1969), the director of missions for District Nine of the Baptist General Convention of Texas. District Nine was a vast area of West Texas. Over the years, District Nine has been served by as many as five associations.

Winifred Lee, a beloved member of First Baptist Church in Matador, said: “It was always a treat when Dr. Swanner came to check on us.”

Franklin Swanner was the primary point of contact for dozens of churches regarding the BGCT. He was the person who created connections, helped churches dream and let them know their work for the kingdom was important.

Les Griffin

When Les Griffin became the director of missions for the Caprock Plains Baptist Area in May 2011, he was tasked with working with three of the five associations in District Nine. He was responsible for the 89 churches from Paducah in the east to Farwell in the west, Tulia in the north to Hale Center in the south, and everything in between.

Little did Betty, Les’ wife, know she would travel more than a quarter of a million miles over the next 15 years.

In 2019, Les oversaw the effort to combine three associations into the Caprock Plains Baptist Association. With every position, there is an administrative component. Les met those responsibilities. He organized, reminded, publicized and did everything that goes with leadership.

However, the gist of Les’s service as a DOM was walking alongside churches, deacons and pastors.

When G.J. Walton, the pastor at First Baptist Church in Silverton’s father, passed away on a family vacation, Les stood alongside their family. Twice, Les traveled by bus with the Happy Union Baptist Church to spend a week with a sister church in Bessemer, Ala.

Les enthusiastically supported the work of Compañerismos, despite having negligible Spanish skills. Working with other DOMs, he organized an annual pastor’s retreat that was both helpful and refreshing. Les led trips to the northwestern United States, helping to form mission partnerships.

Hard times

A director of missions requires God-given wisdom and decades of experience—God’s wisdom that sees a way through and experience that promises a better tomorrow. Les has both.

Les often stood in the gap between a struggling staff member and a disappointed church. He put oil on troubled waters. He would bring direction and a path toward peace.

It is not easy work, but it is important work of trying to redeem a staff member and their family, all the while encouraging a church that has endured difficult days.

Hard decisions

Les has been involved in starting new churches in places like Friona, Muleshoe, Farwell and Plainview. However, the declining rural population often has meant walking alongside “country churches” as they make the difficult decision to discontinue their services. It is a hard decision to close a church.

Churches and schools are the anchor points of community life. However, when the school closes, difficulties quickly arise for the church. Churches may find themselves with only one or two participating families.

Les developed a caring approach with a gentle touch. He established an endowed mission fund with HighGround Advisors, enabling a church’s assets to continue supporting missions for generations to come.

‘The relationship business’

Over the years, Les Griffin wove his life into the lives of the pastors and the churches of the Caprock Plains Baptist Association. The churches returned the favor.

Betty was severely injured in an accident while walking down the street in Florence, Italy. Be aware: When the police decide to raise the traffic barricades, you may be walking on one.

Les was injured in an accident while trying to trim a wayward tree branch.

During those complicated surgeries and lengthy recoveries, the churches of the Caprock Plains Baptist Association provided in every way possible.

Les’ tenure as DOM has been a reminder of the life lesson: No matter the business you conduct, you are first in the relationship business.

‘We are grateful’

When Les became the director of missions, he sought sage advice and wisdom from his aged father Joe. Joe was the pastor of First Baptist Church in Abernathy when the legendary Franklin Swanner was director of missions.

“Dad, what makes for a good DOM?”

Joe paused and reflected. Finally, he answered, “Things were always better when the DOM left the church alone.”

Speaking on behalf of the pastors and churches of the Caprock Plains Baptist Association, we are grateful Les disregarded his father’s advice and became a part of our lives and fellowship. He and Betty have been a blessing to the churches for almost 15 years. Our hearts are full of gratitude for the service they have given, and may the Lord bless their busy retirement.

Stacy Conner is pastor of First Baptist Church in Muleshoe. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

This Denys’s story could fit into a single sentence.

He was mobilized, sent to the front of the Russian-Ukrainian war and in his first battle suffered wounds that led to the high amputation of both his legs. For many veterans, such an injury means the end of their story. What follows is the loss of work, family troubles that often end in divorce, alcohol or drug abuse, marginalization and premature death.

But Denys’ story didn’t end there. Its continuation came in the form of a charity evening called “Voice of Worship.” Hundreds of people gathered to pray for him, to offer words of support and to donate toward his rehabilitation. The event took place on Oct. 19 in one of Kyiv’s Baptist churches.

It is striking that even in the fourth year of the full-scale war, Ukrainians continue not only to show resilience, but also an extraordinary capacity for generosity. That evening, guests raised about 115,000 hryvnias—roughly $3,000—to help Denys. For a nation at war, this is a meaningful sum, made up of countless small donations.

Denys, a young veteran of the Russian-Ukrainian war, had been a member of one of the Baptist churches before his mobilization. His community did not abandon him after his injury and amputation.

The strong horizontal ties that exist within Ukraine’s evangelical community made it possible to unite the efforts of many people to help the young man. Now, Denys is preparing for a long process of rehabilitation and holds on to the hope of returning to a full life—even after the terrible trials he has endured.

‘One especially vulnerable group’

Sadly, the number of people who have lost limbs as a result of combat continues to grow. Churches are ready to serve and support everyone—not only soldiers and not only their own members.

One especially vulnerable group of Ukrainians in need of care is children affected by the war. In truth, nearly all Ukrainian children carry psychological wounds, but many have also been injured physically in shelling or mine explosions.

According to the data from the Prosecutor General’s Office in Ukraine, the total number of affected children—those wounded or killed—exceeds 2,400.

Evangelical churches are combining their own resources with those of their partners to serve these boys and girls and their families. For example, in summer 2025, 81 evangelical communities, with the support of the international organization Mission Eurasia, organized 152 rehabilitation camps involving 19,100 Ukrainian children.

“Children should never be part of war, but the reality, sadly, is that they are among its most vulnerable victims. I am deeply moved by the selflessness and resilience of Ukrainian Christians, as well as the dedication of the volunteers who help children smile again and keep their hope alive,” said Sergey Rakhuba, president of Mission Eurasia.

Indeed, the powerful volunteer movement in Ukraine is made up of countless dedicated people who say: “Here I am, Lord. Send me.”

One of them, Oleksandra, sees her calling in helping wounded Ukrainian soldiers. She has been serving them for several years, helping them rediscover hope.

The miracle we become

“The wounded I meet today are often different from those I met back in 2022,” Oleksandra shared. “Now, I see the most severely affected men. After four years of this full-scale war, they are deeply exhausted, and some are disillusioned. Many, in addition to their physical injuries, are suffering from profound depression.”

Like many Christian workers, Oleksandra does everything she can to help bring such people back to life.

“A young man with a double high amputation was admitted to the hospital. First days our hospital chaplain saw deep depression and despair in his eyes, when [the chaplain] spoke with him,” Oleksandra said.

“The chaplain asked him about his dream, and the young man said he had always dreamed of riding a horse. But a high amputation is a very serious condition. We supported and encouraged him, prayed a lot, even though we understood that simply sitting on a horse would be a major challenge—and staying in the saddle, nearly impossible.

“But our team worked hard, and then a miracle happened. One day, our chaplain showed us a photograph—the young man was sitting on a horse.”

“The miracle is not that an amputee grows new limbs, but that we ourselves become those hands and feet,” Oleksandra concluded.

Churches joining forces

There are many people in Ukrainian churches ready to become the “hands and feet” for those who have suffered because of the war—though, of course, the needs far exceed the available resources. That is why churches are joining forces and creating new initiatives to provide help.

Vitalii Bolhar, the organizer of the charity evening “Voice of Worship”—where funds were raised for Denys’rehabilitation—shared:

“I am a church minister and also a professional musician. Today, music and singing help me not only to praise the Lord, but also to serve him through the gifts he has given me,” he said.

“I now carry out chaplaincy ministry and feel God’s calling to bring the hope of the gospel to soldiers who have become victims of this war.”

Vitalii gathered his musician friends and invited people to the event not only to help Denys, but also to strengthen the faith of Ukrainian believers.

“We want to serve those in need,” he explained, “but at the same time, we ourselves are part of Ukrainian society. We live under constant Russian shelling. We lose loved ones. We, too, need encouragement from the Lord—his comfort and support.”

Denys, sitting in his wheelchair, also listened to the Christian songs and sang along with everyone. He couldn’t hold back his emotions.

“I was amazed that traditional Christian songs could be performed so beautifully with a choir. I was deeply moved by the richness of the harmonies and by the tremendous support from my brothers and sisters,” Denys said.

Although there is still some stigma in society toward people with amputations, and not everyone knows how to respond to them, Ukrainian churches are learning to see in these suffering veterans the very image of Christ—the One who, in the words of the prophet Isaiah, was also wounded and afflicted, and from whom people turned away.

Sharing hope, not losing it

“We are preparing our congregation to welcome the victims of war and to serve soldiers and their families,” said Volodymyr Kondor, executive secretary of the Ukrainian Baptist Union and pastor of the church where the charity evening took place.

“We have reached an agreement with the Protez Foundation on cooperation—providing prosthetics for Ukrainian servicemen and children who lost limbs due to combat, as well as offering pastoral care for those who receive help. Our main goal is not to lose hope in Christ, but to share that hope with the wounded and the suffering ones.”

Christian communities in Ukraine remain a steadfast and living fellowship of service, sacrifice and hope amid the chaos of war. While this chaos is growing, the selfless ministry of Ukraine’s Christians is increasing steadily, too.

Denys Gorenkov is a minister of the New Life Evangelical Church in Kyiv, Ukraine, and a lecturer at the Military Chaplaincy Training Centre of the Military Institute of Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

I support and protest President Trump’s words this week.

I support his designation of Nigeria as a Country of Particular Concern. The unchecked violence against Christians in the Middle Belt and Northern states of Nigeria warrants this designation.

I protest his threats of military action in Nigeria and his blanket disparagement of the country.

What I support

My support for Trump designating Nigeria a Country of Particular Concern is based primarily on historic Baptist principles—namely, our centuries-long commitment to religious freedom—and secondarily on law—specifically, the International Religious Freedom Act.

Egregious violations of religious freedom and human dignity have occurred in Nigeria for many years—against Christians and Muslims. Our Christian brothers and sisters in Nigeria have been crying out for an end to violence against them. I heard them do so while I was in Lagos, Nigeria, in 2024.

Designating Nigeria a Country of Particular Concern enables the U.S. government to apply additional pressure on the Nigerian government to put a stop to the ongoing violence. The options for additional pressure outlined in IRFA are significant and should be exhausted before even a suggestion of military action. But Trump blew past mere suggestion this week.

Yes, we want to see an end to violence against Christians and others in Nigeria. The Baptist Standard has carried several reports over the last several years reporting on that violence. Just search “Nigeria” on our website.

We also want to see an end to violence against Christians and others in Burma/Myanmar, Iran, Pakistan, China, Russia, India and elsewhere—without warfare.

We have been aware the violence in Nigeria is not limited to Christians and is more than strictly religious in nature, as the Nigerian government would like us to make clear. Those realities don’t minimize our concern for our fellow Christians in Nigeria and for religious freedom there. But how we carry out our concern matters.

What I protest

I protest how Trump carried out such concern on social media this week.

I protest Trump calling Nigeria a “disgraced country.”

To apply “disgraced country” as a blanket label to Nigeria is to disparage more than 232 million people in one swipe. It is to reject the honorable lives of millions of Nigerians in their own country and throughout the world—including our Nigerian brothers and sisters in Christ.

It may be Trump meant to disparage only the Nigerian government, in which case he simply could have left off “now disgraced:” “The U.S.A. … may very well go into that country,” or better: “The U.S.A. … may very well go into Nigeria.”

But for reasons beyond this editorial—such as Afghanistan, Iraq and Vietnam, to name only three—the U.S.A. should not go into Nigeria militarily.

That said, I protest Trump’s threats to “go into [Nigeria] ‘guns a-blazing’” and to carry out a “fast, vicious, and sweet” attack. There are many reasons to reject such language—moral, political, tactical and otherwise. My principal reason is Christian.

No attack is “sweet.” To call an attack “sweet” is to revel in violence, which is its own disgrace.

Furthermore, to threaten a “fast, vicious, and sweet” attack with “guns a-blazing” may endanger “CHERISHED Christians” in Nigeria even further. “The terrorist thugs,” so labeled, may go further to make good on the label. Such language is irresponsible and unnecessary provocation.

Support and protest

The U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom first recommended Nigeria for Country of Particular Concern designation in 2009 for reasons we have reported on several times.

Prior to that, Nigeria was on the Special Watch List described in the International Religious Freedom Act. Countries the U.S. president determines do not meet the threshold for CPC designation, but where serious religious freedom violations are taking place, can be placed on the Special Watch List.

For multiple reasons—even broader than Nigeria—the situation in the middle and northern parts of Nigeria has not improved since 2009. Our brothers and sisters in Christ there have been crying out. We need to hear them.

We can agree with President Trump’s designation of Nigeria as a Country of Particular Concern at the same time we disagree with his characterizations of Nigerians and descriptions of warfare. And we should. Our commitment to religious freedom compels us.

Brief explainer

To learn more about the Country of Particular Concern designation, you can read the International Religious Freedom Act here. IRFA passed into law by the U.S. Congress in 1998 and was amended in 2016 and again in 2024.

IRFA gives the U.S. president authority to designate a country as a Country of Particular Concern if “the government of that country has engaged in or tolerated particularly severe violations of religious freedom … during the preceding 12 months or longer.”

IRFA Section 2(3) provides a foundation for the act. Section 3(13) defines “particularly severe violations of religious freedom,” and Section 3(16) defines violations of religious freedom.

IRFA Section 405 outlines seven presidential actions a U.S. president may employ with Countries of Particular Concern. They are summarized in this 2021 U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom fact sheet.

Presidential actions available for a CPC designation include withdrawal or denial of financial, commercial or security assistance.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

As the government shutdown stretches on, I can’t shake the image of social media posts filled with $10 meals—shared by families trying to stretch every dollar. They’re practical, but they reveal something deeper: We’ve accepted scarcity as normal and political dysfunction as inevitable.

Survival has become the responsibility of the poor rather than the powerful.

This shutdown is not only a political crisis. It’s a moral one. It exposes what we value, who we protect and how we love our neighbors.

In the communities where I serve, it means hunger, instability and fear. Mothers wonder how to feed their children when assistance is delayed. Seniors choose between groceries and medication. Meanwhile, leaders insist they are “working to find the money,” while families need food now.

Where is the church—those who follow the One who said, “I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat?”

Too often, we have traded our prophetic voice for proximity to power. We place our faith in ideologies and parties rather than in Christ. Scripture warns us: When God’s people align too closely with empire, the poor pay the price.

The church’s responsibility

This is not about partisanship. It’s about discipleship.

We’ve confused comfort with blessing, wealth with faithfulness and influence with righteousness. Meanwhile, children go hungry.

During my time as a U.S. Department of Agriculture Centers of Community Prosperity fellow, I witnessed something different: Republicans and Democrats, rural leaders and urban pastors working together to strengthen communities.

No one asked for party affiliation. We believed dignity begins with opportunity, and access to food, education and work is not partisan; it’s moral.

That spirit feels distant today. Policy has become warfare. Compassion is seen as weakness. This is more than political decay; it is spiritual decay.

Hunger as a mirror

Jeremy Everett of Baylor’s Collaborative on Hunger and Poverty wrote: “Hunger is simply one of the clearest measures of a society’s moral and systemic health. … Rising food insecurity … isn’t just a humanitarian concern—it’s a national litmus test.”

During the COVID-19 pandemic, we delivered 40 million meals to remote communities through a united effort of the USDA, nonprofits and the private sector. That worked because people came before politics.

Today, SNAP benefits are cut. States like Texas turn away federal nutrition aid. Hunger is not an accident. It is a policy decision.

Jesus never said, “I was efficient,” or “I was aligned with your party.” He said, “I was hungry.”

Hunger reveals where our compassion ends and our excuses begin.

Prophetic hope, not political idolatry

Hope is not passive optimism. It is the courage to live differently. The early church did not grow by seizing power, but by embodying an alternative kingdom marked by generosity, hospitality and shared life.

That is what we need now—not louder political arguments but a deeper gospel imagination.

The church’s role is not to defend systems of power but to challenge them when they harm the vulnerable.

Amos cried, “Let justice roll down like waters.” Isaiah declared true worship is to “share your food with the hungry.” These were not metaphors. They were commands.

The way forward

I see hope—in churches feeding children when schools close; in neighbors delivering meals; in families who, despite hardship, keep showing up for one another.

But hope must lead to action.

It is not enough to post cheap recipes while ignoring the systems that make them necessary. The church must become again the conscience of the nation—feeding the hungry, advocating for the poor and refusing to dehumanize those we disagree with.

If America is to be healed, it must begin with the church. We must confess we have placed our hope in presidents and parties rather than in Christ. The gospel calls us back—to feed, to serve, to repair.

Because hunger—physical and spiritual—is still the truest test of who we are. And how we respond will reveal whether we are the people of the risen Lord or merely an echo of a broken world.

Diego Silva is the director of economic strengthening at Buckner International and a former USDA Centers of Community Prosperity fellow. A native of Brazil, he lives in Georgetown, Texas, with his wife and two boys. He writes about faith, community development and global mission. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

In previous articles, I discussed how good things can become idols—how Christian nationalism, in both its formal and informal forms, can fuse our discipleship to our political identity. That is one side of the coin, where our faith is misused to baptize the powers.

Here, I want to look at the other side of the coin, when—through blending faith and politics—politics silences the gospel.

Caesar and God

In Matthew 22, Jesus is asked about paying taxes to Caesar. His answer is as famous as it is provocative: “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and give to God what is God’s.”

Jesus refuses two traps. He will not baptize Caesar’s power unequivocally. Nor will he join the zealots in their revolt as if Jesus’ kingdom were of this world. Instead, he reframes the question: Caesar’s image is stamped on coins; God’s image is stamped on people. Caesar may have his money, but God must have our lives.

This was more than clever rhetoric. It was a theological claim with political implications. Caesar has authority, but it is limited. God alone has ultimate claim.

Jesus’s answer to the question of paying taxes also demonstrates “it is possible to pay one’s dues both to the emperor and to God, to be both a dutiful citizen and a loyal servant of God,” as R.T. France wrote in his commentary on Matthew (New International Commentary on the New Testament, p. 830. Emphasis in the original.).

That helps us see two distortions of faith and politics:

• On one side of the coin, Christian nationalism: our faith is misused to baptize Caesar, tying the witness of the Kingdom of Heaven to the agendas of worldly powers.

• On the other side of the coin, silence and inaction: politics is misused to muzzle our faith, keeping us from speaking or acting clearly on Kingdom issues because they sound “too political.”

Both are forms of an unhealthy blending of faith and politics. The first weds our devotion to our party or nation. The second makes us submit our proclamation of Christ to the political categories of the day. Both can be ways of giving Caesar what belongs only to God.

Silencing the gospel: The error of inaction

Silence often believes itself to be “neutral” or even “loving,” but it also might allow the powers to set the agenda apart from the prophetic voice of God’s people.

Issues like racial injustice, poverty, war or abuse of power can get dismissed as “political” when they, in fact, are deeply theological. Scripture speaks directly about them. The prophets thunder against exploitation. Jesus blesses the poor and the persecuted. James condemns favoritism. Revelation unmasks empire.

Labeling issues “too political” may arise from a sincere desire to unite people, but it also might water down the gospel until it becomes little more than sentiment. And that’s simply not the picture we’re given in Scripture.

John the Baptist is a clear example. His ministry wasn’t confined to the wilderness. It collided with the politics of his day. When Herod Antipas took his brother Philip’s wife, John confronted him openly.

John could have stayed silent. He could have thought: “This is too political; better to keep my message more spiritual.”

But he didn’t. He named the corruption. And for that, he was imprisoned. For that, he was executed. John was not killed for keeping his faith “pure” and private. He was killed because he refused to muzzle the truth of God’s kingdom when it cut across the powers of the day.

To stay silent because we fear being labeled partisan is to let Caesar decide the intricacies of what God’s image is and where God’s image matters.

To remain quiet when rulers dehumanize the vulnerable or twist justice might not be faithfulness; it could be complicity.

And when the church falls into that silence, it simply is blending faith and politics in another way—not by baptizing the state, but by letting the state muzzle the gospel.

God’s image and Caesar’s coin

The coin bears Caesar’s image. Human beings bear God’s image. Giving to God what is God’s means honoring that image in ourselves and in others—friends and enemies alike.

The world’s power structures are not evil in themselves. They are part of God’s creation and were given for good—to restrain chaos, preserve order and serve human flourishing.

Yet, like the rest of creation, they are fallen. They can be twisted by sin, corrupted by idolatry and bent toward death. When they demand ultimate allegiance or when they silence God’s people, they overreach.

The body of Christ should bear witness against the powers when they distort their purpose of serving God and his image. That is part of giving to God what is God’s.

And so, to give God what is God’s means to honor God’s image wherever it is threatened. To advocate for Israeli families devastated by Hamas’s terror and for Palestinian families devastated by Israel’s retaliation.

It means to advocate for the lives of the unborn and born, and for mothers and fathers, for the lives of the murdered and the murderer, for the sanctity of marriage, and to care for the experiences of those disillusioned with institutional definitions. To honor one and ignore the other is to deny God’s image in both.

We don’t champion only one side’s victims. We grieve every person dehumanized by oppression and every person who dehumanizes themselves by becoming an oppressor.

The church’s cruciform witness

Our ultimate allegiance always must be to God, and that means speaking and living out the message of Jesus with clarity: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”

The church is not called to baptize Caesar’s authority. Nor is it called to retreat into silence. It is called to bear witness to Christ crucified and risen—through words, through scars, through cruciform love that honors the image of God everywhere on any side of any aisle.

The church can bear the Spirit’s fruit and embody cruciform love. We can look like Jesus, giving God what is God’s and showing the world the true face of his kingdom.

Nick Acker, a native Texan, is co-lead pastor of Grace Ventura Church in Ventura, Calif., adjunct faculty member at Stark College and Seminary and a resident fellow at East Texas Baptist University’s B.H. Carroll Theological Seminary, and author of Exegeting Orality: Interpreting the Inspired Words of Scripture in Light of Their Oral Traditional Origins. He finds his greatest joy in his wife and three children. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Have you ever known a Charlotte? I have known two.

There was Charlotte who lived in a web. No, I didn’t know her personally, but I did get to see her as a boy many times—on television.

Then there was Charlotte Keese. She was a sweet mom and hairdresser in Glen Rose whose kids went to school with us.

Charlotte Keese always was upbeat and kind. When a kid needed something, Charlotte would reach into her purse to get money she earned working hard all day on her feet to help. I know this firsthand.

One day, we had a football game. I forgot my socks. I was going to call my mom, but Charlotte said, “No need.” She quickly ran to Bill’s Dollar Store to get me a pair for the game. That was so many years ago, but I still remember her kindness.

But I am telling you of neither of those Charlottes today.

A radio show

Let me start by telling you about my good friend and the radio manager at KKHT—the radio station that airs my show “Carpooling with Johnny Teague.” His name is Steven Kay. He’s also a popular radio host on KKHT.

We were recording one of my shows recently, and our conversation turned to the homeless in our city. As we visited, we talked about the personal struggle we face when we see the homeless on practically every street corner.

We both are conflicted. Do we give to them? Do we give to one, or do we give to everyone as we make our way down the Houston streets? That would break us. We both concluded we give as the Lord compels us.

Some need the money for necessities. Some want money for vices. We decided to trust the Lord to lead us to help those who truly are in need.

Steven Kay was talking about this one day on his evening radio show. He discussed his perplexity in light of the fact we are to be Jesus’ hands and feet.

While he was talking about this, a Walmart employee named Charlotte was listening on her car radio on her way home from work.

Charlotte tuned in

Charlotte had passed an older couple moments before, whose SUV was broken down on the feeder road off I-10. Convicted, she took the next exit and drove back to help the couple, if she could, praying all the while for her own safety.

Charlotte pulled behind the broken-down SUV. She got out of her car, cautiously made her way to the couple and asked them if she could help.

The man told her their radiator hose was busted. He asked if she would drive to an auto parts store and get one, along with two gallons of antifreeze. He said he would have walked to an auto parts store but had no idea where one was nearby.

He didn’t want to leave his wife with the stranded car alone nor make her walk with him when he had no idea where he might find such a store.

He reached into his pocket to give Charlotte the money he had. She told him not to worry about it.

Happy to help a family in need, she hopped back in her car to get the radiator hose and the two gallons of coolant.

This kind woman, an employee who had just left work at Walmart and tuned in to hear Steven Kay talk about helping the needy, was convicted and made a U-turn to help a family she had passed by.

She found an Auto Zone nearby, got what the couple needed and drove back to where they were stranded. With a smile, she gave the man the radiator hose, two bottles of drinking water and two gallons of coolant. The man and his wife were grateful. He assured Charlotte he could take it from there, and they expressed their gratitude.

God used Charlotte

Before Charlotte left, she asked the couple if she could pray for them. They shyly accepted.

After Charlotte prayed, the woman whose car was broken down, noticed Charlotte’s name tag. She hadn’t taken it off after her shift at Walmart.

The woman told this Good Samaritan: “Your name is Charlotte? That was the name of our daughter. She died tragically three months ago.

“We have been devastated and overwhelmed with grief. We decided this afternoon, that we had to get out of the house. We would start slow by going out for a bite to eat.

“No sooner did we get to I-10, our car overheated. I felt everything was against us. Then, you pulled behind us to help. And you have the same name as our daughter. You prayed for us.

“God sent you—a Charlotte—to remind us of the sweetness of our daughter and the love of God. Thank you so much.”

As tears welled up in the woman’s eyes, Charlotte’s matched hers, tear for tear. They hugged, and Charlotte drove off.

She had one more thing to do. She called the radio station to tell Steven Kay how God had used him to compel her to turn around and help a family who recently lost a daughter, whose name just so happened to be the same as hers—Charlotte. His eyes moistened in gratitude to hear faceless people with their radios on actually do listen.

God is willing to use any of us to help those hurting, if only we’ll listen and act.

Johnny Teague is the senior pastor of Church at the Cross in West Houston and the author of several books, including his newest The Lost Diary of Mary Magdalene. His website is johnnyteague.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Perhaps the most well-known Baptist distinctive is believer’s baptism.

Baptists did not invent the conviction people should be baptized only once they have been converted. Other low-church denominations also observe this practice. Nevertheless, it stands at the heart of what it means to be a Baptist and is the reason I find it hard to imagine myself in any other denominational context.

This peculiar conviction is not without its detractors, however. Though few churches in North America would defend infant baptism on the same grounds they might have four centuries ago, many Christians still see it as a preferable or even necessary part of their own faith.

The back-story of baptism

There is no immediate precedent for baptism in the Old Testament. Certain purification rituals in the Law involved sprinkling people (for example: Exodus 24:4-8; 29:19-21; Numbers 19:17-19) or objects (for example: Leviticus 4:1-35; 14:48-51; 16:15), but no water-based or blood-based ritual performed the precise function baptism would take up later.

By the first century, though, baptism was a recognized ritual in Judaism, and rituals of a similar sort were performed in pagan religions, as well.

Within its Jewish context, baptism was an initiation ritual. It marked the transition of a person out of “the nations” and into the people of God. In the ministry of John the Baptizer, it also enacted a person’s repentance and preparation for the coming of the Lord (see Mark 1:1-8 and parallels).

Baptism retained these functions in Christianity, but scholars also have described it as a “death to life” ritual (see Romans 6:1-14).

Baptism proclaims a person’s faith in Christ and initiates her or him into his body. But it also symbolizes (and some would say enacts) that person’s transfer from the hegemony of sin and death into the service of Christ—a service that produces righteousness, holiness and eternal life (see Romans 6:15-23).

Baptist convictions

For Baptists, these functions point inexorably to one conclusion. Baptism is an act of obedience (see Matthew 28:19) that publicly proclaims an individual’s commitment to Christ as Lord and Savior and that symbolizes the transformative work Christ has done in the believer’s life.

It is the natural consequence, Baptists believe, of a person’s acquiescence to Christ’s rule and a prerequisite to church membership.

As the Reformed scholar Ligon Duncan has pointed out, not everyone reads the biblical evidence the way Baptists do.

For example, Duncan sees in 1 Corinthians 10:1-11 a precedent for understanding the church more broadly than Baptists do, and he rightly asserts both the Reformed position on this issue and the Baptist position are attempts to account for the nominal faith of many who claim church membership.

Moreover, those in the Restoration tradition—such as Churches of Christ—believe the overall teaching of Scripture, and specific texts like 1 Peter 3:20-22, teach baptism is a prerequisite for salvation.

Nevertheless, Baptists have rejected the idea baptism has regenerative power and have held firm to the symbolic significance of the ritual.

The coming of the Spirit on Peter’s Gentile hearers in Acts 10 strongly suggests baptism is not a prerequisite for salvation but is its outworking.

Moreover, Paul’s construal of the church as a fictive family—that is, a network of believing individuals bound together by God’s Spirit—suggests baptism should be seen as the marker of those who have been genuinely converted, not of those who are related to the church by bonds of blood or marriage but who have not undergone the rebirth (John 3:1-15) or adoption (Galatians 3:26-4:7; Ephesians 1:3-14) facilitated by the Spirit.

Contributions and questions

I am basically satisfied with the Baptist consensus in favor of believer’s baptism. It reminds the church of the personal nature of salvation, and it serves as an important theological foundation upon which other Baptist distinctives are built.

Though I recognize evangelicals in general, and Baptists in particular, sometimes have put too much emphasis on discerning the exact moment of conversion, believer’s baptism has testified rightly to the importance of a person’s transition into the people of God and the necessity of commemorating the public, intentional quality of that transition.

Nevertheless, there still are questions related to baptism worth asking. Such questions might clarify the reasons Baptists hold the convictions they do and provide grounds for further conversation with non-Baptist Christians. These questions include the following.

• Is baptism a sacrament, and if so, what exactly does that mean?

Baptists typically describe baptism as an “ordinance,” not a “sacrament.” The word sacrament could refer simply to a “mystery,” thus signifying something of a spiritual nature is taking place during the ritual.

But the language of sacrament has a lot of theological baggage, and Baptists want to be clear we perform this ritual because Christ commanded it, not because it has any bearing on a person’s standing before God.

• If baptism is merely an ordinance, and if baptism has no functional effect on an individual’s soul—thus resulting in salvation—then why is it commanded by Jesus?

As Baptists, we do not take the symbolic significance of the ritual lightly. Still, some may wonder why we should perform the ritual if it does not accomplish anything.

Likewise, have Baptists imbibed too deeply a culture that has been thoroughly disenchanted? In other words, are we too rationalistic in our understanding and practice of baptism?

• Is the mode of baptism—immersion rather than pouring or sprinkling—really as important as many Baptists allege, or are there ways in which these alternative methods of performing the ritual better symbolize what is taking place when a person is converted?

It is clear the Old Testament contains a lot of imagery related to sprinkling (see above), and scholars in other denominations may prefer other texts as models for how baptism is to be conducted. Moreover, there are practical considerations that sometimes make immersion impossible or unwise.

Should an individual’s baptism be considered invalid if they were not immersed?

• Should Baptists prohibit those who have undergone infant baptism from partaking of the Lord’s Supper on the grounds they have not been baptized properly, and should they prevent from partaking in the Lord’s Supper those whose post-conversion baptism is thought by their denomination to have a greater significance than Baptists allow?

This is the question of “open” or “closed” communion, and Baptist doctrine would suggest communion ought to be closed.

Nevertheless, at the church I pastor, we have chosen to leave our communion open. We see it as an opportunity to acknowledge our kinship with other believers and to cultivate theological humility.

Other Baptists may disagree, arguing baptism is such an important topic, we cannot compromise. We must, by our practices, model to other believers what we believe the Bible clearly teaches.

You may have other questions as you think abut baptism. Talk them over with your pastor. Acquaint yourself with current and historic Baptist confessions. Ask your non-Baptist friends why they believe what they believe about baptism. And approach all these activities and conversations with a curious, humble heart and a prayer for unity in Christ’s body.

Wade Berry is pastor of Second Baptist Church in Ranger and has been resident fellow in New Testament and Greek at B.H. Carroll Theological Seminary. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

“I was hungry, and you said it’s because I’m shiftless and lazy.”
“I was hungry, and you told me to get a job.”
“I was hungry, and you said it’s not your problem.”
“I was hungry, and you looked the other way. Literally.”
“I was hungry, and you fed me.”

Hunger is in the news, whether we’re talking about 42 million Americans eligible for SNAP benefits or 500,000-plus Gazans suffering from famine. By the way, the two situations are not equivalent.

One reason hunger is in the news is because the current political wrangling in the U.S. capital has the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program benefits 42 million Americans rely on in its crosshairs.

This editorial is not about the politics involved, politics I consider cynical. This editorial is about clear biblical teaching on addressing hunger. In short, hunger should not exist among Christians, but it does. When Jesus asks us about that, he’s not going to ask which political party is to blame. He’s going to ask what you and I did about it.

What does Scripture say?

Most reading this already know what Jesus said about the sheep and goats. But I’m going to paraphrase it anyway.

“When the King arrives, he will sit on his throne and separate the blessed from the cursed.

“The blessed will be those who, when the King was hungry, fed him; thirsty, gave him something to drink; was a stranger, welcomed him; was naked, gave him clothes; was sick, took care of him; was in prison, visited him.

“The cursed didn’t do any of that.

“The blessed will say, ‘When did we do all of that?’

“And the King will say, ‘You did it to me when you did it for one of the least of these my brothers and sisters’” (Matthew 25:31-46).

I tell you, this passage haunts me and always has.

When Isaiah recorded God’s description of proper fasting, he wrote:

“Is this not the kind of fasting I have chosen …
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?” (Isaiah 58:6a, 7).

Twice in Leviticus, God’s law forbids harvesting every bit of food from the land. Instead, God’s people are to leave some for the poor and foreigner (Leviticus 19:9-10; 23:22).

The earliest church sold what they had “to give to anyone who had need” and “shared everything they had” so “there were no needy persons among them” (Acts 2:45; 4:32-35).

Scripture also instructs us to feed our enemies when they are hungry (Proverbs 25:21; Romans 12:20).

This is just a sampling of how Scripture says God’s people are to respond to hunger.

And hunger is all around us.

Hunger in the United States

If we look at just one number—42 million Americans—we do not have to look far to see a person needing food assistance. Forty-two million translates to roughly 12 percent of the U.S. population, or more than 1 in 10 Americans—or more than the entire population of Texas and Michigan combined.

We have among us in the most prosperous nation in history more people qualifying for food assistance than the population of each of 196 of the world’s 233 countries—including: Canada, Ukraine, Poland, Saudi Arabia, Venezuela, Australia, Somalia and many more.

Let that sink in.

The United States, at roughly $30 trillion, is the world’s largest economy by more than $20 trillion. By itself, Texas is the world’s eighth largest economy, at more than $7 trillion. How can we be so prosperous and so hungry at the same time?

Come on, y’all!

Add to this the fact the United States is so closely identified with Christianity, a faith built on Scripture like I quoted above, that we must face the charge we’re not putting our money where our mouth is.

Thank goodness that’s not true of all of us.

What is expected of us

This editorial isn’t about politics, but I am going to say a word about politics.

The U.S. Department of Agriculture’s home page this morning, Oct. 29, stated: “Bottom line, the well has run dry.” The bold announcement at the top of the USDA home page placed full blame on Senate Democrats for the stoppage of SNAP benefits effective Nov. 1.

Christians, we cannot allow ourselves to be sucked into the current blame game and name-calling between Republicans and Democrats. We as Christians are commanded to live beyond and better than that.

Part of living beyond and better than that is being concerned about hunger without political footballing, being concerned about hunger even when it’s not in the news, being concerned enough about hunger to do something about it ourselves.

Examples we can follow

One thing we can do is fast from feeding our consumer economy so we can feed our neighbors. We Christians spend a lot of money on entertainment, creature comforts and the latest greatest, while criticizing our government for how it spends our tax dollars. We can do better.

A food truck in the Four Corners area of New Mexico posted on Facebook, Oct. 27: “Starting Nov. 1st We will be offering a 4pc boneless wings to kids 15 and under on us! No purchase and no questions asked. Kids must be present and limit 1 per child. Just ask for the ‘Kid Special’ and we’ll take care of you” (emphasis added, because Jesus didn’t ask questions either)!

A follower responded: “Alright-this is our sign to take care of businesses that take care of community. Let’s FLOOD their food truck with support!!!”

Christians have restaurateurs among us. Surely, we can help them help others like that.

When my wife and I were seminary students 25 years ago, we went through a period when money was tight. This is a common experience among seminary students. Thanks to the Sutherland family’s feeding ministry, we were able to fill in some food staples. That ministry still operates today. May their tribe increase.

I am thankful for food banks, food pantries, feeding ministries and others doing their part to alleviate hunger. They need our help.

And we need to do more than make feeding the hungry a weekend project. We need to include it in our budgeting, our earning and our spending. We need to make it our way of living.

*******

To learn about hunger and its effects, view this fact sheet. To learn more about ways you can help alleviate hunger, view this information from the Baylor Collaborative on Hunger and Poverty or visit the Texas Baptist Hunger Offering website.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Letter: Faith misused in Gaza’s destruction

Whose God do you look to when you seek to justify starvation and mass slaughter?

Watching Gaza’s devastation, many have appealed to religion or history to rationalize what cannot be defended. Some cite ancient suffering to excuse new atrocities, as if pain sanctifies more pain.

In Peter Beinart’s powerful 2025 book Being Jewish After the Destruction of Gaza, he observes that sacred texts and memories of persecution have been weaponized to legitimize the destruction of another people.

It is not only some Jewish voices doing this. Many American politicians have invoked faith and moral duty while supporting policies that have starved children and flattened homes.

If your faith demands silence before injustice or obedience to cruelty, perhaps it is not God you are following, but power cloaked in holiness. If your God blesses hunger and rubble, then your prayers rise only to human authority, not to heaven.

Terry Hansen
Milwaukee, Wisc.

My journey with Christ has been deeply personal and profoundly shaped by my life in Palestine.

Growing up among a Christian family in Ramallah, I learned early that faith can endure through hardship. Yet, it was only when I questioned everything and rediscovered Jesus for myself that I truly understood what it means to follow him.

Early years

I was born in Ramallah, a city in the hills of central Palestine, about 20 minutes north of Jerusalem. My family, like many Christian families here, carried its faith through generations of trials and displacements.

We were among what some call the “Living Stones,” the indigenous Christians of the Holy Land, heirs of the first believers who heard the gospel firsthand.

We preserved the faith of our ancestors, protected the holy sites, and witnessed to the power of Jesus through endurance, love and steadfast hope. We also were the salt of the earth among our fellow Palestinians.

In my family, Christianity was not just a faith, but also tradition, culture and loyalty to our ancestors who had kept the faith through empires and persecutions. Leaving it would have felt like betraying both Jesus and my heritage.

My grandfather often told me how his father, a stonemason, had built many churches across the Holy Land, including our own in Ramallah and Jerusalem. My grandparents taught me to pray before meals and before bed.

My parents and extended family were devout, rarely missing Sunday Mass. Church life shaped our rhythms: weekly worship, a Christian school, youth Bible studies and Scouts run by the parish.

Most of our neighbors were Christian, and the few Muslims I knew were classmates from mostly secular families. My childhood revolved around school, church and family.

Hometown

Ramallah itself changed drastically over the last century. Once a small, fully Christian town, it is now a major city more diverse, politically charged and socially tense.

After the 1948 Nakba, when hundreds of thousands of Palestinians were ethnically cleansed and their homes and towns destroyed to make way for new Jewish immigrants and the creation of Israel, refugees—both Christian and Muslim—fled to Ramallah.

Many local Christians feared occupation and emigrated, and the Christian population declined, leaving the remaining community caught between Israeli occupation and cultural erosion.

When Israel occupied Ramallah in 1967, the exodus accelerated. Today, Christians make up roughly a quarter of Ramallah’s 40,000 residents.

Yet, the “American Federation of Ramallah, Palestine,” representing the Ramallah diaspora, counts about 45,000 Palestinian Christian members, making it the largest Palestinian organization in the United States.

Going to university

University life in nearby Birzeit—a small, largely Christian town—opened my eyes to the broader Palestinian society. There, I met Palestinians from across the West Bank, Gaza Strip, Jerusalem, and even from Israel, Jordan and the diaspora.

For the first time, I realized how limited my upbringing had been. I had lived in a predominantly Muslim society without really seeing it.

As I grew older, my faith faced questions I could not answer easily: Why are we Christians becoming a minority in our own city and land? Why are we Palestinians being occupied by the Israelis? Why did God allow suffering, injustice and confusion, especially here in his Holy Land?

Seeking guidance

During this period, I turned to Christian media for guidance, watching Arab and international channels such as SAT-7, TBN, CBN and God TV, and following preachers and ministers like Paul and Jan Crouch, Joyce Meyer, Benny Hinn, Joel Osteen, Hal Lindsey, Pat Robertson, Andrew Wommack and T.D. Jakes.

I prayed with these preachers and ministers from home, read their books, received their newsletters and grew spiritually, yet I was deeply unsettled.

Many of these preachers and ministries glorified Israel politically while ignoring, dismissing or even vilifying Palestinians. Their sermons often replaced compassion with ideology and faith with politics.

It was painful to see those I admired celebrating symbols of occupation while remaining silent about our suffering. That silence, and at times hostility, made me feel invisible, unloved and unwanted within the global body of Christ.

I began to question everything. If this was Christianity, did I still belong? Their message, instead of bringing me closer to Jesus, drove me into doubt, spiritual loneliness and depression.

Seeking the truth

I decided to seek the truth for myself. I began to study other religions systematically. I met with Muslim clerics—one at Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem to learn about Sunni Islam, another in a northern West Bank village to study the Ahmadiyya movement, a sect separated from Sunni Islam. I admired much in Islam but could not embrace it fully.

I then turned to Judaism, studying with an Israeli Jewish rabbi from Jerusalem and at the same time learning from the Palestinian Samaritan community, descendants of those mentioned in the Bible who still live in Nablus and number about a thousand today. Again, I found wisdom but not the fullness of truth.

I even explored briefly other religions such as the Bahá’í faith, Raëlism, Eckankar, Hinduism and Buddhism, gaining insight but not conviction.

After years of searching and questioning, I found myself drawn once more to the faith of my childhood.

Returning

I returned to Christianity with a renewed hunger to understand it deeply and started studying the Bible with new eyes.

Ramallah, remarkably, has nearly every major denomination: Orthodox, Melkite, Roman Catholic, Anglican, Evangelical, Baptist, Lutheran, Quaker and Coptic. At first, attending different services felt awkward, but over time, I discovered beauty in each. Through their diverse prayers, traditions and liturgies, I encountered Jesus in new and profound ways.

Eventually, I came to accept Jesus as my Lord, Savior and companion.

I felt his presence everywhere—in the stones of our streets, the olive trees, the mountains and even the sea. He became my guide, my moral compass and my constant friend. I imagined him walking where I walked, resting where I rested and eating the same fish from the Sea of Galilee.

Gaining discernment

Looking back, I now understand my disillusionment with Christian media was not the end of faith but a test of discernment. It helped me recognize what Jesus warned about false prophets and religious leaders who twist God’s word for power or profit.

Like the Pharisees of Jesus’ time, they used religion to serve their own agendas. Yet, even through the teachings of these preachers and ministers, I learned something vital: The gospel must be separated from politics, Christ’s truth stands apart from every empire and ideology, and my faith must rest not in institutions, but in the living Christ himself.

Being a Palestinian Christian

Being a Palestinian Christian shapes everything I do. It calls me to love my Muslim and Jewish neighbors and even our enemies, including the Israeli occupation and settlers who oppress us. Loving them does not mean accepting injustice. It means praying they, too, will encounter Christ and turn from evil.

My identity is bound to my people’s history of suffering and resilience. Living under Israeli military occupation has deepened my understanding of Jesus’ teachings on justice, compassion and perseverance.

To be a Palestinian Christian is to carry Christ’s light into darkness, his peace into fear and his justice into oppression. It is to live resurrection amid crucifixion and to follow Christ not because of heritage or tradition, but because he alone is the truth that redeems, forgives and gives hope no power on Earth can take away.

Jack Nassar is a Palestinian Christian based in Ramallah, Palestine. He holds a Master of Arts degree in political communications from Goldsmiths, University of London, and brings professional expertise across multiple sectors, driving positive change. He can be reached at: jacknassar@aol.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.