How Priscilla Shirer Surrenders All

Rachel Pfeiffer

The best-selling Bible teacher writes about putting God first in her life and how healthy Christian discipleship requires sacrifice

Photography by Andrew James Abajian / Courtesy of Lifeway Resources / Edits by Christianity Today

Priscilla Shirer remembers the advice she got earlier in her ministry career: You cannot do a thousand things to the glory of God, but you can do one or two.

“I’ve never forgotten that,” she said. Each season of life, she prays and discerns what priorities she believes God has laid out for her. Whatever doesn’t align with those is a “no for now.”

“This is not always easy,” she said. “No, it’s a constantly saying, ‘Lord, please help us to have a little bit of discernment and wisdom. … give us enough courage to be willing to say the nos so that we can say our best yeses to where you want us to be.’”

The best-selling Bible study author, teacher, and speaker recently said yes to another movie by the Kendrick Brothers—the evangelical producers Shirer previously worked with on War Room and Overcomer—and an accompanying devotional book.

The Forge, released in August, was a project that made sense for her as a 49-year-old mom of three boys in their teens and early 20s. Shirer’s character works to get her 19-year-old son on track and prays for him to know Jesus.

“I felt really compelled to be a part of telling a story of a young man whose life is completely shifted because someone older and wiser affirms him, challenges him, and encourages him to rise up in manhood,” she said.

Shirer—who comes from a ministry family as the daughter of pastor Tony Evans—was inspired by the movie to write about discipleship and surrender. She and her husband live in Dallas, where they run Going Beyond Ministries.

Her Going Beyond Live events feature Bible teaching, prayer, and worship led by her brother, singer Anthony Evans. Over the summer, she held the largest live event Lifeway has hosted since the pandemic, with 5,600 women in person in Athens, Georgia, and around 50,000 watching the simulcast online.

This weekend, she’ll host the final Going Beyond Live event of the year in Cincinnati.

Recently, Shirer sat down with CT to discuss her latest projects, what it looks like to turn over our lives to God in the day-to-day, and why she sees surrender as the key to finding peace and hope.

How did the movie The Forge inspire your new book?

The Kendrick Brothers asked if I would be interested in writing a companion book geared specifically toward women that might see the movie and then be thinking about discipleship and surrendering to the Lord fully in their lives. How could they actually take whatever the Holy Spirit may have done in their heart while they were watching it and put feet on it?

Sometimes we have a sense of what we would like to do, but we’re actually not sure how, so this book gives a little bit more detail on what it looks like to live a life that is fully surrendered to Jesus. Not just at church on Sundays, and not just sort of doing the dutiful thing that we are supposed to do as Christians, but actually living a life where your heart is yielded to the Lord.

In I Surrender All, you wrote, “If you and I are struggling to surrender our all to Jesus, it most likely has something to do with our estimation of His identity.” Many in the church have heard time and again who Jesus is, so how do we keep from getting complacent about Jesus’ identity?

I think one of the main ways is that we remember what he has delivered us from. We remember what we would have been, had it not been for the grace and the mercy and goodness of God.

Every one of us has a testimony. Some of us have a more stark, striking testimony than others, but all of us were in sin, and all of us would have had an eternal destination that was separated from God. If it weren’t for the grace of God, none of us would be able to experience freedom or victory and a life that is filled with peace and stability of heart and mind.

So the first thing that keeps us calibrated to make sure our heart is turned toward him sincerely is remembering what could be all of our lot if it weren’t for his grace and mercy. That makes you continually grateful.

What other barriers do you think that Christians, especially Americans, encounter when it comes to surrendering their lives to God?

There’s a constant competition in the culture we live in about what our priorities should be. We want to be comfortable; that is the Western view of what happiness is, that your life is comfortable and easy and everything’s going like you would like for it to go. That has been misunderstood and misconstrued as the favor of God on you, but that’s not the way Jesus described discipleship. In fact, in many ways, it’s the opposite.

Jesus said, If anyone will be my disciple, they’ll deny themself and take up a cross. We don’t live in a culture that values self-denial and restraint. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we have to remember that he’s the priority, being willing to lay down our lives for him and surrender sometimes our ambitions and our goals, the way we thought our life would be, the family dynamic we thought we’d have, the way it would look. Laying down those sorts of things becomes a way that we’re able to begin to recalibrate again.

How has your understanding of surrender has changed over the years?

One of the things that occurred to me is that surrender looks different in every season but that we’re always being asked to surrender something. At every season of life, there is another level of surrender, and on the other side of that surrender, there’s a new facet of abundant life and an experience with God. Surrender looked different in my 20s, and what I sensed the Lord asking me to release in my 30s is different than it is now in my 40s.

As I move into the next decade and season of life with my children now growing up, flying the coop, and the house getting a little emptier and quieter, I’m asking, “Okay, Lord, now what would it look like for my life to be surrendered to you here, and am I willing to lay down my thoughts of what this season should be, or what I want it to be, if you ask me for something different? Will I be willing to walk with you in this season in the new ways that you call me to?”

What does it look like practically for someone to be truly surrendered to God in their everyday life?

Well, one of the main things is starting the day with a perspective of, “Lord, this is your day. There are things you already have planned for me in this day that I don’t even know yet. There are strangers that I’m going to meet. There are frustrating circumstances that are going to happen. So, Lord, would you help me to hold my hands loosely on the 24 hours that you have ahead of me and to be tender of heart enough that I can be aware that every derailment, every potential frustration, every encounter that I have, any of those things can be shimmering with divine possibility.” To me, that’s what it is. It’s not always easy, by the way.

Both in the movie and in your book, there’s this connection between surrender and discipleship. What is the key element of needing to surrender in order to be a disciple?

The entire disciple’s life is one of surrender. When you look in the Scriptures, you see Jesus basically saying to those 12 disciples, “Follow me.” They had to actually leave behind physical comforts, physical realities, like when Peter was fishing.

It’s a requirement for discipleship, because in order to fully honor Jesus and to keep him first, we can’t be allowing that priority to bump heads with the things we treasure, whether it’s an ambition, or whether it’s a comfort in unforgiveness, or whether it’s a story of success that we’ve written in our minds as to what our success is supposed to look like. Being able to release that and let it go is a requirement for us to fully follow Jesus.

How can the church better step into this space of mentorship? What are some things the church body can do better to disciple young people?

I think one of the main ways is by highlighting to younger people in the church the need that they have for the more seasoned, more mature believers. Let those young believers know, The resources you need to be successful in your marriage are sitting right around you if you would be receptive, teachable, and humble enough to hear wisdom. Same thing for business builders, young entrepreneurs. There are businesspeople that have been doing this longer than you. They are your resources for how to honor God, have integrity in your business but also do it with success.

The very reason why online church is fantastic but can’t be a replacement for a local gathering is because community was the whole point to begin with. It was supposed to be iron sharpening iron.

It has to be something that [we talk about] just as clearly as we speak about salvation and just as clearly as we talk about the Holy Spirit or the fruit of the Spirit—we talk about some things very didactically and clearly from the pulpit—this should be one of them as well. Discipleship is available to us in this body, if we’ll just take advantage of it.

- More from Rachel Pfeiffer

Books

Church Disappointment Is Multilayered

Interview by Harvest Prude

Jude 3 Project founder Lisa Fields speaks about navigating frustrations with God and fellow believers.

Illustration by Christianity Today / Source Images: Getty

Why are people leaving the church or their faith behind? Some answers boil down to platitudes, like a supposed desire to pursue a sinful lifestyle. But apologist Lisa Fields has found the reasons to be much more complex.

Fields, founder of the Jude 3 Project, which equips Black Christians to know what they believe and why, has sat across from many people leaving the church. During these “exit interviews,” she’s discovered that somewhere in nearly every story lurks the specter of personal disappointment with God or Christianity. She addresses this thorny issue in a new book, When Faith Disappoints: The Gap Between What We Believe and What We Experience.

CT national political correspondent Harvest Prude spoke with Fields about walking with God in the midst of a broken world and our own disappointments.

Something from your book that really struck me is when you talk about unanswered prayers. How do we navigate times in our faith when we’ve sought out God for something and we feel overlooked because he doesn’t seem to answer?

For me, when God doesn’t answer my prayers, I have to have a real conversation with him about what he has not answered. My relationship with God is very open. There are times where I’m angry, and I have to get those feelings out of my mouth and out of my heart—because when I don’t voice my frustrations, I end up filled with bitterness and resentment.

There’s a quote from Tim Keller where he says—and I’m paraphrasing—that if we knew what God knows, we would want our prayers answered the way he answers them. I’ve had this experience in my own life. I remember a time when I wanted to connect with a particular person, a major donor who could help my ministry. But I didn’t have enough extra income to get to New York City, where he was based. I remember being frustrated, feeling like there were all these obstacles to networking and getting ahead. Only later did I learn that this person had just gotten arrested for embezzlement.

Sometimes, in your disappointment, you realize that God is letting you see things that you wouldn’t see otherwise or protecting you from dangers that you didn’t know about. In the book, I talk about a man I had been dating for almost four years. In the middle of our relationship, he got married to a woman he had been involved with behind the scenes for most of the time. This other woman had been married herself during most of the affair.

That whole time, I had been praying that God would make this man my husband. But I didn’t realize that he was actually protecting me from someone who had poor character, despite being a preacher. In the middle of my disappointment, I voiced my frustration. Then I gave myself time to ask what God might be trying to protect me from. What different direction was he trying to push me in?

In the book you talk about doing exit interviews with people who are leaving the church. As a reporter, I cover the intersection of faith and politics. How do you think political conversations have impacted people’s relationship with faith?

I think the political climate in America has really impacted how people there think about faith. Christians often go to rhetorical and ideological extremes in the name of faith. Recently, I noticed a group of faith leaders on social media saying that if you’re voting for Kamala Harris, you can’t be a Christian. Rhetoric like that, I think, creates this confusion gap for many in our culture, where they don’t understand what we’re talking about. Because the Bible doesn’t tell you which political candidates to vote for. In fact, it doesn’t even speak about voting in any conventional way, because the world of the biblical writers was a world ruled by kings and emperors.

When there’s a gap between what the Bible says and what some believers claim it says, for political reasons, it makes a lot of people want nothing to do with the church, especially when political leaders hijack the church for their own gain. And it makes believers look like hypocrites, which creates a problem for those who want to be part of something genuine.

In your conversations, how often do you find that people leaving the church are struggling with its failures and flaws? And how often, by contrast, do they seem motivated more by a desire to live without moral restrictions or guilt?

I think both answers can be correct, sometimes at the same time. Church disappointment can have so many layers. Perhaps we’re disappointed with God. Or we’re disappointed with God’s people, or people in general. And then there are certain things we just desire and want to do in our flesh.

There’s always a multiplicity of factors. When I’ve done exit interviews with people leaving the church, I’ve seen that it’s never just one thing. It’s layers of things that rock them.

If you could design a toolkit of practices for being a faithful witness to those who are struggling with the church or their faith, what would you include?

The first thing I’d encourage is to live out what you believe as best you can. And that doesn’t mean perfection, but it does mean progression. If I hold to the Bible being the Word of God, then I obey the Word to the best of my ability.

Because we all fall short, though, we have to be honest about when this happens. If I portray myself as living a sinless life, I’m actually undermining the authority of Scripture, because Scripture tells us we’re born and shaped in iniquity. Living out our faith means acknowledging our sins and committing to repent of them.

Another essential habit is loving people well. In The Message Bible paraphrase, there’s a passage in Philippians that I post every Valentine’s Day, where Paul is saying, don’t just “love much” but “[love] well” (1:9–11). That really struck me when I read it years ago, because there’s a difference between loving somebody much and loving somebody well. I want to be someone who tries to love people well. That means listening attentively and holding space for their doubts and frustrations.

Third, I think we need to practice being merciful. Like Jude says, “Be merciful to those who doubt” (v. 22). Remember what it’s like to have doubts of your own, and treat others who doubt accordingly.

And finally, remember to pray with people. With my own friends, I’ve been enjoying a beautiful season of us praying together. I can’t give any prescription on how to do it right. It’s not like we’re doing anything grand. We simply share our frustrations; I pray, they pray, and healing has taken place. And it’s not like my friends are well-known spiritual leaders. But that’s just a reminder that you don’t need somebody to be a spiritual leader for their prayers to make a difference in your life.

You write about the importance of forgiveness to any process of healing from faith disappointment. How do we respond well when a fellow believer has hurt us or broken our trust?

In my own life, I was having trouble trusting someone who had sinned against me and claimed to have repented. My therapist said, “I’m not asking you to trust them. I’m asking you to trust God.” And that has helped me a lot.

I enter into relationships that have been broken, knowing that the person, being human, could break that trust again. But I’m aware that I’ve probably caused hurts myself and I could do it again. And because I want grace, I know I need to give it as well.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy. I spoke earlier about the man who cheated on me during our relationship. It took me years to get to this point, but by now I’ve seen him many times since he got married. By the time he apologized, I was able to accept his apology. I was able to trust that it was sincere because I had done a work in my heart to forgive him.

Sometimes, you have to give yourself time. Years ago, I read a book on forgiveness. It said there are occasions when we tell people we’ve forgiven them too abruptly because we don’t know the full impact of their actions. If we announce forgiveness too soon, we’re only forgiving the initial impact when we don’t yet know all the layers. How will these actions affect me a year from now? I might have to forgive again, but at least I’m choosing forgiveness. I’m choosing not to treat you like you owe me because you hurt me.

When Christians face disappointment, you argue, a sort of syncretism can creep in. They might seek out New Age practices, for instance, if they feel that God has failed them. How should we approach apologetics in a culture marked by intense interest in alternative modes of spirituality?

Before criticizing the what in these alternative approaches, try to find out the why. Perhaps you know someone who uses crystals or consults horoscopes. Well, what’s behind that? Figuring out the why will help you get to the root of the issue.

Maybe this person was going through a difficult time and heard from a friend about something that could help manage the stress. And so, okay, so that’s how you got into that. Maybe this person had tried prayer and Christian faith but, for whatever reason, didn’t find them adequate. You can help someone walk through these deeper issues. For me, this is a far better approach than simply saying, “Don’t use crystals—they’re demonic.”

Love is a better draw than fear. As a pastor’s kid, I used to go to youth conferences around the country, and there was always an element of fear in the way we were encouraged to give our lives to Christ. And so everybody gave their life to Christ at every event—the same people every year. I “became” a Christian probably a million times as a teenager because I was scared.

But when life disappointed me, that fear wasn’t what was holding me. It was God’s love. I believe in a real hell, and I believe that Jesus is the only way to eternal life, but we can communicate that with love, rather than fear, as the motivator. Because the fear will always wear off. Fear will never be your keeper.

- More from Harvest Prude

Ideas

You Don’t Need a Rule of Life

Myles Werntz

Contributor

What you need is a church.

Documerica / Unsplash

Contemporary culture is brimming with exhortations to discipline. From Jordan Peterson’s runaway bestseller 12 Rules for Life to Ryan Holiday’s The Daily Stoic to James Clear’s Atomic Habits, we have no shortage of guidance for embracing a life of order. And that guidance isn’t all bad; wisdom from many corners can deepen our understanding of how to live well. Psychologists, Stoics, and even motivational speakers have contributions to make.

Some are even noticeably resonant with Scripture. Peterson’s rule “Set your house in perfect order before you criticize the world” echoes Jesus’ admonition to “take the plank out of your own eye” before issuing judgment (Matt. 7:3–5). And Clear’s suggestion that we reduce exposure to bad habits before building good ones fits well with Psalm 1:1. For popular fare, we could do worse than commending self-control in a culture entranced by the illusion of endless possibility.

The Christian take on this genre is more explicitly scripturally attuned and increasingly described, with a nod to the monastics, as a “rule of life.” These books offer practical instruction for Christians seeking to bring their finances, prayers, and daily habits into one cohesive vision, and some try to recover classical disciplines rooted in the Decalogue or in historic catechisms. But they can evince too little distinction from their secular counterparts and, relatedly, too little use for the church.

Of course, it makes a difference that Christian books cite Scripture instead of Cicero, advise habits of prayer instead of silence, and teach self-discipline in service to the mission of God instead of success in business. But whether secular or sacred, contemporary rule-of-life material tends to function at the level of technique (tactics to make our lives more streamlined) rather than discipleship (which frequently doesn’t move in such a straightforward fashion). These are programs by which we may pull the fragments of our lives into a coherent whole, and we are generally expected to do so alone, or at least alone with Jesus.

Some Christian rule-of-life authors recognize this, to an extent. Consider, for example, John Mark Comer’s enormously popular Practicing the Way. “The current micro-resurgence of Rule of Life in the Western church is a joy to my heart,” Comer writes. “Unfortunately, it’s mostly being run through the grid of Western-style individualism, with individual people writing their Rule of Life.”

Comer is correct as far as he goes. But if one goes looking for an antidote to that individualism, “community” and “church” appear very briefly, discussed explicitly in just over 4 pages out of over 200. Comer offers resources for churches beyond the book, which makes it all the more surprising that even here, church community is more an appendix than a core element of these rules.

Comparing modern rules of life to their ancient counterparts is instructive. In some ways, the concerns about loss of discipline and meaning are very similar across the centuries. Monks of the fifth century complained about not being able to focus for long periods of time, just as we do today. Christians of the ancient world bemoaned being tired, distracted, envious, and divided in their lives.

But after that common starting place, these books’ guidance for a coherent, Christ-centered life differs dramatically from modern recommendations. Reading The Rule of Saint Benedict, we should be struck by a very curious thing: The first five chapters almost never discuss things you should do.

Instead, the prologue begins with a vision of the Christian life as one that is traveled in the company of others. The book’s intention is to establish “a school for the Lord’s service,” and it is not remote learning. The opening chapter, which catalogues different kinds of monks, allows that select monks who “have come through the test of living in a monastery for a long time” are able to go out into the world alone after benefitting from “the help and guidance of many.” But most of the instruction is for monks living together, gathered under a rule with their leader, the abbot.

The rule put forward by Augustinian monks has a similar orientation. It too begins with an admonition that assumes participation in a larger body of believers: “The chief motivation for your sharing life together is to live harmoniously in the house and to have one heart and one soul seeking God.” Before beginning to speak about the values or habits of monasticism, this rule spends the whole first chapter describing how monks prepare for the common life.

The pattern holds beyond monastics, too. Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Life Together gives ample discussion to habits of prayer, eating, and personal disciplines. But the first thing he discusses is the necessity of pursuing discipline in common. The Christian, he writes, is “the man who no longer seeks his salvation, his deliverance, his justification in himself,” but recognizes that “God has put this Word into the mouth of men in order that it may be communicated to other men.”

To put a fine point on it, modern rules of life too often omit what Bonhoeffer and the ancients took for granted: that the ordered life cannot be lived alone. This omission may not be surprising in secular books of our isolated age. But we should not see it in Christian rules. Contemporary Christians should take for granted that our spiritual lives are knit together and indeed are impossible under ordinary circumstances without a gathered community: the church.

When the Gospels speak of Jesus’ mission, they speak of a rabbi who gathers a community of disciples. And the apostle Paul’s preserved writings, with few exceptions, are letters to whole communities. His instructions to seek the mind of Christ (1 Cor. 2:16) and pursue lives of humility (Phil. 2:1–3) were not first given to individual Christians. They concerned virtues to be pursued together. Indeed, Paul’s caution against being “yoked together with unbelievers” (2 Cor. 6:14) assumes a common—and communal—way of life for all believers, joined together as the people of God (2 Cor. 6:16).

Why do contemporary Christian rules of life no longer begin with this vision of the church? I suspect it’s because we can no longer count on the church life presupposed by Christians in older eras—and this loss is precisely why individualistic rules are proliferating. We still long for discipline and order, and if we don’t find it in a local congregation, we turn to these books and their individual programs instead.

That’s understandable, but we can do better than accommodating ourselves to the situation at hand. Singlehandedly pulling together the fragments of our lives may be possible, but the ancients wisely never thought it sustainable. “When God created man, in order to commend more highly the good of society, he said: ‘It is not good for man to be alone: let us make him a helper like unto himself,’” reflected Aelred of Rievaulx, the 12th century author of Spiritual Friendship. “How beautiful it is that the second human being was taken from the side of the first.”

Here Aelred points us to the weakness of making do by ourselves: To be a human is to be drawn from the body of another, and to be a Christian is to belong utterly to another. Whatever rule we adopt, whatever order we seek, we must not do it alone.

That doesn’t mean there’s no place for personal disciplines in the Christian life. Benedict’s Rule recognizes that the spiritual life is not a one-size-fits-all vision. There’s ample room to apply the rule according to particular needs. Not all the monks need the same attention or struggle with the same vices, and the abbot tailors the rule for each. But the worshiping community still worships together, and its members do not first follow individual rules that pull them away from life together as the church.

So none of this means that there’s no place for individual rules. A common life provides the space for nuance, for tailoring. Benedict noted that some monks would need more sleep or more food than others; Augustine’s rule made provisions for monks who needed different work to do; Bonhoeffer speculated on what life together might look like for families with young children or work schedules that make gathering difficult. But while you can improvise from a common premise, it’s difficult to build a common life if everyone already arrives with their own rule firmly in place.

To reclaim this older vision, we must begin by unlearning deep habits of solo reading, praying, and planning for isolation. We must calibrate our sermons less to individual application and more to common aims. We must foster spiritual practices that require our assembly together instead of assume our absence.

This is not as daunting a task as it may sound, for, by God’s grace, we already have what we need to pursue it: the Scriptures, ample historical witnesses, and a clear hunger for disciplines and communion with others. What remains now is to count the cost, and then to begin.

Myles Werntz is author of From Isolation to Community: A Renewed Vision for Christian Life Together. He writes at Christian Ethics in the Wild and teaches at Abilene Christian University.

- More from Myles Werntz

Theology

Which Church in Revelation Is Yours Like?

René Breuel

From the lukewarm Laodicea to the overachieving Ephesus, these seven ancient congregations struggled with relatable problems.

Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: WikiMedia Commons

Revelation is often interpreted out of context based on current concerns and fearful speculations about the end times. But after a study trip to Turkey—and years of teaching Revelation at my local church in Rome and for conferences—I have come to realize how contextual the book is.

Throughout Revelation, John of Patmos uses powerful imagery to exhort early Christians to resist conforming to the Roman world and to encourage them to remain faithful to Jesus in a world of rival rulers and false deities vying for their loyalty. The book addresses ancient believers in seven cities, like Ephesus and Laodicea, that faced struggles similar to those many Christians experience today.

Most scholars date Revelation back to the reign of Domitian, who issued coins depicting imagery associated with his reign. Remember when Jesus picked up a coin and said, “Give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s” (Mark 12:17)? That’s because Roman emperors often stamped their faces on coins to project their political-religious propaganda.

But these Roman emperors weren’t just making idolatrous claims. They were also using imagery to assert their authority and subjugate the Jewish people, many of whom had embraced Jesus as their Messiah. After the Jewish revolt was crushed by AD 70, Domitian’s father, Vespasian, and later his brother Titus issued coins that portrayed humiliating imagery of Jews and Judea.

Which Church in Revelation Is Yours Like?

Coins of Domitian and his throne with a winged thunderbolt

Full Screen

1 of 3

Domitian's throne with a winged thunderbolt

WikiMedia Commons

A coin with Domitian on the front and a winged mythical pegasus on the back

Full Screen

2 of 3

Domitian and a winged mythical pegasus

WikiMedia Commons

A coin with Domitian on the front and his divine son holding seven stars on the back

Full Screen

3 of 3

Domitian's divine son holding seven stars

WikiMedia Commons

The Arch of Titus in Rome narrates the family’s triumphal entry into the city, followed by Jewish captives and spoils stolen from Jerusalem’s temple. Around 97,000 Jews were either killed at various arenas or enslaved and sent to work at mines in Egypt (in a sense, reversing the liberation of the Exodus). Some of them were even tasked with helping build what would become the largest and bloodiest arena of all: the Colosseum.

Can you imagine the anguish of early Christians, many of whom were Jewish, during this time?

Which Church in Revelation Is Yours Like?

Arch of Titus exhibiting Judean captives and spoils

Full Screen

1 of 4

Arch of Titus exhibiting Judean captives and spoils

WikiMedia Commons

A coin with Vespasian on the front and a bound jew on the back

Full Screen

2 of 4

Vespasian's denarius showing a bound Jew

WikiMedia Commons

A coin with Titus on the front and a kneeling jew on the back

Full Screen

3 of 4

Titus's Denarius showing a kneeling Jew

WikiMedia Commons

Full Screen

4 of 4

The Colosseum built between AD 72-80 in part by Jewish captives

WikiMedia Commons

It is against this backdrop that John uses competing imagery to fortify his fellow suffering believers. He shows Jesus holding the seven stars and walking among his lampstands and describes winged creatures around the throne of “the Lord God Almighty.” He depicts scrolls, trumpets, and bowls as symbols of God’s authority and judgment—and elders who lay aside their crowns to sing, “You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power” (Rev. 4:11).

When we interpret Revelation in its historical, not present-day, context—following its concrete biblical references, not our abstract speculations—we see that the powerful objective behind much of the book’s counterimagery was to exalt the supremacy of Jesus above all other ancient rivals.

Yet the temptations and challenges the local churches faced in these ancient cities are not unlike the ones many Christians encounter to this day. While there are many such challenges to explore, we can learn a few lessons from Jesus’ relatable rebukes to these seven churches.

Pergamum and Thyatira call us to remain true to God in a world that exalts power

Two chapters into the book, John’s prophecy records Jesus addressing the church in Pergamum: “I know where you live—where Satan has his throne” (2:13).

This could be a reference to several familiar religious landmarks in the city: the local altar to Zeus, a sanctuary dedicated to Egyptian divinities, various temples to Greco-Roman divinities, the first temple dedicated to Caesar Augustus and imperial worship—or all of them.

Which Church in Revelation Is Yours Like?

The ruins of the altar of Zeus with a tree in the background

Full Screen

1 of 3

The Altar to Zeus in Pergamum

Photography by René Breuel

A pillar in the Red Hall of an Egyptian Divinity

Full Screen

2 of 3

The Red Hall (Egyptian Divinities) in Pergamum

Photography by René Breuel

Full Screen

3 of 3

Hadrian's Temple in Pergamum

Photography by René Breuel

By the time John was writing, a man had already been martyred at Pergamum (v. 13). Given the immense pressure, it’s understandable that some Christians at the time were advocating for a policy of assimilation and compromise.

Yet Jesus knew that a diluted gospel was far more detrimental to a church than persecution. The symbol for the city of Pergamum was a sword, so Jesus said, “Repent therefore! Otherwise, I will soon come to you and will fight against them with the sword of my mouth” (v. 16).

Similarly, the church in Thyatira (where Lydia, who hosted the church in Philippi, was from) also struggled with false teachings that justified sexual immorality and eating foods sacrificed to idols. So Jesus addressed himself to this congregation as “the Son of God, whose eyes are like blazing fire” (v. 18).

In what ways do politics and religion intersect in your context? Do politicians expect undue allegiance from Christians? Do some churches defend a syncretistic compromise with human powers? And does such compromise lower our ethical standards below those of Jesus?

If so, take to heart Jesus’ admonition: “Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches” (v. 29).

Smyrna and Philadelphia show us how to suffer redemptively in an unstable world

Smyrna was a harbor city with temples dedicated to the goddess Roma and the emperor Tiberius. It also had a large Jewish population that was legally exempt from emperor worship. Yet certain members of Smyrna’s synagogue argued early Jewish Christians should no longer be protected under this exemption and often reported Christians to civil authorities for treason—even though they believed in a Jewish messiah.

Below Smyrna’s marketplace were a dungeon and holding cells. Imagine being held there after being denounced, possibly even betrayed, by your own relatives, friends, or those who claimed to share your faith. So Jesus assured the church, “I know your afflictions and your poverty—yet you are rich! I know about the slander of those who say they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan” (v. 9).

Which Church in Revelation Is Yours Like?

Full Screen

1 of 6

Under the Agora in Smyrna

Photography by René Breuel

Full Screen

2 of 6

Ancient Agora in Smyrna

Photography by René Breuel

Full Screen

3 of 6

Ancient remains in Thyatira

Photography by René Breuel

Remaining 6th-century pillar in Philadelphia

Full Screen

4 of 6

Remaining 6th-century pillar in Philadelphia

Photography by René Breuel

Synagogue next to a Roman gymnasium in Sardis

Full Screen

5 of 6

Synagogue next to a Roman gymnasium in Sardis

Photography by René Breuel

Full Screen

6 of 6

Pillars in the synagogue next to the Roman gymnasium in Sardis

Photography by René Breuel

Jesus offered similar encouragement to Christians in Philadelphia, some of whom were also being imprisoned. Located in an earthquake-prone zone, the city was destroyed again and again. But when I visited it, I got to see a remaining 6th-century pillar. I found this a moving image, for Jesus told harassed Christians in a shaky Philadelphia, “The one who is victorious I will make a pillar in the temple of my God. Never again will they leave it.” (3:12).

What makes you despair and tremble? Has perseverance in the Christian walk been difficult lately? Has conflict with fellow believers destabilized you? If so, hear the acknowledgement of our Lord: “I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name,” (v. 8) and his assurance “I am coming soon. Hold on to what you have, so that no one will take your crown” (v. 11).

Ephesus and Sardis remind us to keep our love alive in hardworking cities

Sardis’ synagogue (which assumed its current enormous size in the 3rd century) was centrally located next to a Roman bath and sports complex. On the outside, the church in Sardis seemed to be thriving. Yet Jesus admonished it: “I know your deeds; you have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up!” (vv. 1–2).

Jesus knew our reputations don’t always match the state of our souls, so he charged Sardis to “remember, therefore, what you have received and heard; hold it fast, and repent” (v. 3).

Ephesus also had an industrious spirit, evidenced by its monument dedicated to Nike, the goddess of victory, and its ancient coins imprinted with the city’s symbol: a bee. The Ephesians were hardworking and prosperous like bees. The city had a spacious agora, a 24,000-seat theater, and a port that brought significant wealth into the city.

It also had a temple dedicated to Domitian, a temple dedicated to Artemis—which was one of the seven wonders of the ancient world—and other majestic buildings like the Library of Celsus, where you still can find a Jewish menorah lampstand sketched onto one of the steps.

Which Church in Revelation Is Yours Like?

Full Screen

1 of 6

Celsus's Library

Photography by René Breuel

A Jewish lampstand on the step of Library of Celusus

Full Screen

2 of 6

A Jewish lampstand on the step of Library of Celusus

Photography by René Breuel

Full Screen

3 of 6

Nike, the goddess of victory

Photography by René Breuel

Full Screen

4 of 6

Agora in Ephesus

Photography by René Breuel

Full Screen

5 of 6

Road leading to a port in Ephesus

Photography by René Breuel

Full Screen

6 of 6

Theater in Ephesus

Photography by René Breuel

Jesus’ words to the church in Ephesus are often quoted: “I know your deeds, your hard work and your perseverance. … You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown weary. Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken the love you had at first” (2:2–4). Ephesian Christians abounded in work but neglected the greatest of virtues: love.

Have you absorbed too much of your context’s overachieving spirit? Do you need to slow down to recover your spiritual vitality? Does your external vibrancy match the inward state of your soul?

Laodicea challenges us to remain dependent on God in a self-reliant culture

Built at the intersection of major trade routes, Laodicea was a banking center and an exporter of fine garments and carpets. The Laodiceans walked on roads paved with marble and erected impressive temples, a stadium for chariot racing, and twotheaters seating thousands of people each.

Yet Laodicea’s resourceful, self-reliant spirit had infiltrated its church. Jesus’ words are relevant to many of us who live in similar contexts: “You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked” (3:17).

Which Church in Revelation Is Yours Like?

Full Screen

1 of 4

Colonnaded marble road in Laodicea

Photography by René Breuel

Full Screen

2 of 4

Temples in Laodicea

Photography by René Breuel

Full Screen

3 of 4

The West Theater in Laodicea

Photography by René Breuel

Full Screen

4 of 4

Photography by René Breuel

Though Laodicea was prosperous, it did not have the most basic resource: a local source of water. Nearby Colossae was located next to a river, and neighboring Hierapolis had a hot spring that is active to this day. Thus, the Laodiceans were dependent on these two cities for their water supply. Aqueducts brought water from Colossae and Hierapolis to Laodicea, allowing it to erect grand fountains like the one dedicated to emperor Trajan. Being such a precious resource, the city’s water law (in the sign pictured below) had strict regulations for public use. Isn’t it ironic that a city with no local water supply proudly featured a huge fountain?

Yet by the time it arrived in the city, Colossae’s cold, refreshing water had grown tepid, and Hierapolis’s hot, medicinal water had become lukewarm. By that point, the city’s mixed water had developed such a strong and strange taste that those who drank it were tempted to spit it out.

Which Church in Revelation Is Yours Like?

Full Screen

1 of 4

Hierapolis had hot springs

Photography by René Breuel

Full Screen

2 of 4

Water leaving Hierapolis

Photography by René Breuel

Full Screen

3 of 4

Aqueduct arriving in Laodicea

Photography by René Breuel

Full Screen

4 of 4

Trajan's Fountain

Photography by René Breuel

In this context, Jesus admonished the church in Laodicea: “I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth” (v. 15–16).

Jesus makes it clear that both cold and hot water are fine. Why? Because both are close to the source. Lukewarm water, by contrast, is distant from its source. Though once hot or cold, lukewarm water has become shaped more by its surroundings than by its source.

Are you allowing yourself to be shaped more by your surroundings than by your Source? Do you crave external validation more than Jesus’ approval? Does your resourcefulness tempt you toward self-reliance and away from dependence on God?

To Laodicea’s church, Jesus presents himself as the “Amen” and “the ruler of God’s creation.” The Greek word for ruler is arche, from which we have the words archetype and architecture. Likewise, Christ calls us to center ourselves on him as our ultimate foundation and affirmation.

Revelation’s historical context shows how intimately relevant the book is to many of the struggles believers face to this day. We will always be tempted to conform to our environment and succumb to worldly propaganda—which is why Revelation’s reminder is needed as much now as it was then.

Like any good pastor should do today, John challenges Christians of all ages to remain faithful in worshiping Jesus in the face of any other earthly rival.

René Breuel is the author of The Paradox of Happiness and the founding pastor of Hopera, a church in Rome. He has a master of divinity from Regent College and a master of studies in creative writing from Oxford University.

- More from René Breuel

News

In Appalachia, Helene’s Water Crisis Taps a Global Christian Response

Emily Belz

North Carolina churches are seeing people suffering dehydration. Disaster groups that work overseas are showing up to help.

People collect water to distribute in hard-hit Swannanoa, North Carolina, after Helene knocked out running water.

Photo by Mario Tama / Getty Images

International Christian engineering nonprofit Water Mission usually responds to clean water crises overseas, like flooding in East Africa this year or the earthquake in Turkey last year.

But when the South Carolina–based organization saw the extensive damage to Western North Carolina’s water infrastructure after the historic storm Helene, it decided to activate a rare disaster response in the US.

“We’re able to take our systems and plug them in here,” said Brock Kreitzburg, the director of disaster response at Water Mission, speaking from Boone, North Carolina. “North Carolina is in our backyard, so let’s use our expertise in providing safe water.”

With permission from the state government, the organization drove up to Western North Carolina and put into operation four of its proprietary mobile water treatment systems that can produce 15,000 liters of clean water a day, or enough for several thousand people. Water Mission has also now distributed and gassed up 400 generators for people who need power to pump their wells, assembling a team of electricians to install the generators as needed.

Swaths of Western North Carolina are without running water for an indeterminant amount of time. Helene’s historic floodwaters took out the pipelines to the main water treatment plant serving the city of Asheville, as well as hit hard Swannanoa and Black Mountain, two smaller communities near Asheville. City officials do not have a timeline for when water will be restored but expect it to take weeks more.

Areas in rural Appalachia are struggling with water supply, too, because they are dependent on wells, which need power to pump. Electricity remains out in many parts of the region nearly two weeks after the storm.

First Baptist Swannanoa, a church that has been a key relief resource and distribution point in the hard-hit community of Swannanoa, set up a health clinic on its property early last week. There were no preexisting clinics in the area. Pastor Jeff Dowdy said the volunteer doctors and nurses have been seeing people with health issues related to lack of clean water. Dehydration has hit people of all ages, he said.

“Once you don’t have access to clean water, all sorts of things can happen healthwise,” Dowdy said. The timeframes he has heard for water to come back are four to eight weeks. “This is a long-term crisis that we’re in.”

Spotty cell service, power outages, and destroyed roads and bridges have compounded the difficulty of restoring infrastructure. One of Water Mission’s trucks got stuck on a mudslide.

“The amount of destruction here in this region—you don’t see this [in the US],” said Water Mission’s Kreitzburg. The death toll from Helene stands at 227, with most of those killed in North Carolina, making it the deadliest hurricane to hit the US since Katrina in 2005.

Without running water, residents must gather water to drink, cook, flush toilets, bathe, and wash clothes. Donations of bottled water are abundant, but locals said they are beginning to see more large water tanks positioned around town. Tankers with potable water where community members can fill large containers for their homes are the ideal in-between measure, international clean water engineers told CT.

The residents of Appalachia might not have known, but Taiwanese Christians were watching their plight. After the storm, World Vision US heard from the leaders of World Vision Taiwan. The Taiwanese leaders had seen the water crisis in Appalachia and said they already had a solar-powered water filtration system in transit to the United States, a system they had used in Taiwan after a recent typhoon.

The Taiwanese leaders wondered if North Carolina could use the water system.

Reed Slattery, World Vision’s national director of US programs, had an idea for where it could go. He had been in Swannanoa and the Asheville area and met with the head of Western Carolina Rescue Ministries, a Christian organization which is providing emergency housing to about 120 people, including 6 pregnant women and some babies. The shelter needed water. Slattery thought the mobile filtration system would produce the right amount of water for the shelter—providing 1,900 gallons of water a day.

The system from Taiwan was scheduled to be delivered to the shelter this week, and the Taiwanese staff planned to remotely train the shelter staff on using the system.

The uncertain length of the water outage requires more than bottled water, these relief nonprofit leaders say. World Vision’s “chief water officer” is working with local North Carolina officials on those longer-term solutions, Slattery said.

Samaritan’s Purse, a Christian international relief organization whose headquarters are in Boone, also typically responds to disasters overseas. But the organization has set up three water filtration systems in the Asheville area.

Each of its systems can produce 50,000 liters a day, or enough for 10,000 people. The organization has also been airlifting water to difficult-to-reach areas. Dowdy, the pastor in Swannanoa, said his community has benefited from large tankers of water from Samaritan’s Purse.

Other international nonprofits like chef José Andrés’s World Central Kitchen have tankers of water on the ground in the area. WaterStep, which responds to water crises overseas, has established clean-water operations in Augusta, Georgia, one of the places Helene hit hard.

The responding Christian organizations’ leaders told CT their operations are coordinated with emergency management officials, but they are also proactively reaching out to heavily damaged areas and talking to local fire departments or other local officials to learn the needs of the communities. Water Mission is targeting more rural areas where it will take longer to get power and water back.

Local governments have been responding well, said Water Mission’s Kreitzburg, but “it’s just such a wide area of damage. They have to prioritize. So we’re trying to be the supplement between the disaster happening and the restoring of services.”

He added, “It’s a privilege to serve them and serve the Lord.”

The head of the North Carolina Baptist Convention, Todd Unzicker, said the Baptists have semitrucks with water arriving to more than a dozen sites in Western North Carolina every day. Most of that is bottled water, but more tankers of water have been going out. He said the state Baptists are serving 140,000 hot meals a day in the area, and he didn’t know numbers on water distribution but said they were distributing more water than food.

The lack of cell service has made that distribution and communication difficult. Unzicker traveled to the storm-hit area with his daughter recently, and they had to use a map book to navigate.

The presence of so many churches and nonprofits in the region, on top of the government response, meant that the “immediate need is being met,” World Vision’s Slattery said. But residents he talked to were worried about what would happen when bottled water donations dried up or when attention shifted to other crises like Hurricane Milton.

While staffers of these relief organizations are focused on the basics of restoring infrastructure, they are also seeing the hurt and trauma of residents in the aftermath of the storm. People coming into the churches that Water Mission is partnering with have often lost everything, sometimes including family members.

“Wherever we’re responding around the world, we want to partner alongside the church,” said Kreitzburg, adding that his organization would stay as long as it was needed. “The church is going to be in that community a lot longer than we are.”

Dowdy, in speaking to CT from Swannanoa, had to move several times to chase a fleeting cell signal. The area around him is a landscape of cars flipped upside down in trees, destroyed homes, and washed-out roads. But morale is good at his church.

“Everything we’ve gotten in here has been from churches and individuals who have brought it to us,” he said. Outside groups coming in more recently have allowed his church members to rest and attend to their own disaster recovery. “It’s encouraging to see the church in a time of great need.”

Before the storm, his church had been wrestling with the question of whether anyone would miss the church if it ceased to exist. The congregation had begun looking to be more involved in the surrounding community.

“Wow, has God provided that!” he said.

- More from Emily Belz

Theology

The Bible Doesn’t Fit an Information Age

Russell Moore

Editor in Chief

Algorithms strip us of mystery. The Gospels restore our ability to be astonished by the truth.

This piece was adapted from Russell Moore’s newsletter. Subscribe here.

I recommended the Gospel of Mark to an unbeliever. He read it and found it “creepy.” That’s exactly the response I wanted.

This young man is probably an atheist or an agnostic but has lived in such a secular environment that he doesn’t seem to think of himself in such terms, any more than you would introduce yourself as “non-cannibalistic” or “anti-horse-theft.” He wanted, though, to try to understand—just as an intellectual exercise—why someone would hold to religious views or practices he finds alien.

He asked what he should read in order to do that. There are, of course, many places I would send such a person, but to him I said, “Why don’t you read the Gospel of Mark? Don’t worry about whether you understand it all; just read through it.”

I later ran into the secularist again, and he reported that he had taken my advice. “So, what did you think?” I asked.

He said he was conflicted. Reading the Gospel was, on the one hand, narratively gripping in a way that he hadn’t expected, supposing an ancient religious text would be preachy and propagandistic. On the other hand, he said, “It was kind of creepy.” And that’s when he brought up Cixin Liu’s The Three-Body Problem.

This man knew that I had read the science fiction novel last year—and that I had done so reluctantly. A trusted friend had recommended the book to me with a warning: “Don’t give up. You will feel like you don’t know what’s going on and you’ll want to put it down. Keep reading and, you’ll see, it will all pay off in the end.” My unbelieving conversation partner had not read the book but he had watched some of the Netflix adaptation of it, 3 Body Problem.

Mild spoilers here: in both the book and the series, an alien civilization communicates with human scientists through a virtual reality gaming headset. The scientists are put in scenarios where they must solve the gravity fluctuations that are plunging the distant world into unpredictable periods of chaos and calm.

“At times, it was kind of like playing those games,” the young man said about reading Mark. “It was almost as though someone was on the other side, watching me.”

By that, he meant particularly that the “character” (his word) of Jesus in the text sometimes seemed to be written in a way that felt unexpectedly immediate. “Sometimes I had to remind myself that I wasn’t right there in the middle of everything. That kind of freaked me out a little bit.”

Although virtual reality aliens were not on my mind, this reaction was exactly what I had been hoping for when I’d recommended that he read Mark.

Usually if I’m helping someone “get” what Christianity is, I ask them to read the Gospel of John. With someone like this, though—who I don’t know if I’ll ever get to follow up with—I’ll suggest Mark, partly because it’s concise and relatively easy to read.

I also do this because of a story I heard years ago. If I remember right, a man who had been some sort of New Age Eastern religionist, the kind found often in the hippie countercultural movements of the 1960s and 1970s, became a Christian because a professor in his comparative religion class assigned the Gospel of Mark. Like the young man, he was drawn to the figure of Jesus and started to feel as though he was not only reading the text but that he was being beckoned from the other side of it.

Leon Wieseltier argues that we have too much emphasis on “storytelling” right now—that this leads to a loss of arguments, of persuasion. “Storytelling is designed to inculcate certain responses, certain mental stances, in the listener. They are passivity, credulity, wonder,” Wieseltier writes. “All of them are stances of surrender.”

This, of course, denies that there are important truths one can only see from stances of passivity, credulity, wonder, and even surrender.

Philosopher Byung-Chul Han agrees that we should be worried about how much we hear about storytelling, but that’s because—however much we talk about it—we’ve lost the ability to tell and to hear an actual story.

“We tell fewer and fewer stories in our everyday lives,” Han argues in his new book The Crisis of Narration, because “communication takes the form of the exchange of information.” In an information age, Han writes, an actual story is a disruption. Information, after all, is direct, controllable, and consumable. A story works a different way. A story requires that, in order to be experienced, some information must be withheld as well as revealed.

“Withheld information—that is, a lack of explanation—heightens narrative tension,” Han writes. “Information pushes to the margins those events that cannot be explained but only narrated. A narrative often has something wondrous and mysterious around its edges.” That kind of mystery is startlingly rare in an era of algorithms.

Part of our problem is that we find a plot unsettling in an information age, especially if we start to see our lives as part of that plot. That’s what Han finds diminishing about algorithms. We consume bits of disconnected data—curated by our curiosities and our appetites—to the point that we no longer feel surprise. Reality itself starts to feel dead, like so much abstract data. The deadness brings forth more deadness.

“Bits of information are like specks of dust, not seeds of grain,” he writes. “They lack germinal force. Once they are registered, they immediately sink into oblivion.” The metaphor immediately brought to mind Jesus’ own words: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24, ESV throughout).

Journalist David Samuels laments that we now live in the flatness of a time when story and song are hollowed out by Big Data, replaced by “consuming pornography and propaganda.”

“The goal of their governing algorithms isn’t to create beauty, or anything human; it’s to suck out your brains and then to slice and dice them into bits that can be analyzed and sold off to corporations and governments, which are fast becoming the same thing; it’s a mass mutilation of the human,” Samuels writes. “What that sounds like in practice is like a car alarm that keeps going off, at a higher and higher pitch—a sound that has no meaning in itself, except as a warning that something has been shattered.”

Maybe the three-body problemof it all is not the Bible but the rest of life. On the other side of our digital lives are intelligences seeking to question us—nameless, faceless algorithms designed to test us with just one question, “What do you want?” What if, though, our boredom and malaise are themselves signs that we weren’t meant to live like this?

Jesus said that this is a key reason he taught in parables, “because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand” (Matt. 13:13). A story requires a certain kind of participation, a certain lack of control. One must be prepared for, and often through, the story to hear what it is saying. One must be baffled enough to suspend control, to feel the tension, in order to not just share information but to experience something true. Without that sense of bafflement and mystery, a story lacks the ability to astonish and to linger.

Think, for instance, of the Gospel of John’s very familiar account of Jesus’ multiplication of the loaves and fishes—a miraculous sign so important that all the Gospels reference it. We tend to remember that there was a crowd of thousands, that there was not enough to eat, and that Jesus provided a feast from almost nothing. What most people don’t think about when recalling that story, however, is just how Jesus sets up the occurrence.

“Lifting up his eyes, then, and seeing that a large crowd was coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, ‘Where are we to buy bread, so that these people may eat?’” John records. “He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he would do” (6:5–6).

He himself knew what he would do. The question itself—the kind of momentary perplexity it would create in Philip—was Jesus’ intention. It’s the same pattern God followed with the tribes of Israel in the wilderness after the Exodus. Moses said to them: “And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord” (Deut. 8:3).

Jesus does not just intend to feed; he intends that we would first “hunger and thirst for righteousness” (Matt. 5:6). He did not simply intend to rescue Peter from drowning, but also that Peter would experience what it was like to go under water, to cry out and to feel a hand pulling him up (Matt. 14:30–31).

Jesus’ encounter with us in Scripture is meant to work the same way. We too are meant to find ourselves exclaiming with the Capernaum synagogue, “What is this? A new teaching with authority!” (Mark 1:27). We are meant to start asking the question, “Why does this man speak like that?” (Mark 2:7). We are meant to hear, as though addressed directly to us, “But who do you say that I am?” (Mark 8:29).

When one finds authority amid the algorithms, revelation among the consumption, that can feel creepy—just as after a time of starvation, the smell of baking bread can seem nauseating. It’s not those who find all this strange who are not “getting it” but rather those who find it all familiar and boring. That’s what a plot does, but it’s especially what a plot breathed out by the Spirit of Christ does, a plot in which we are meant to hear the voice of a Shepherd (John 10:4).

What if someone on the other side of those ancient words knows that you’re there? What if, in those words, you can almost hear the Galilean-accented voice that once disrupted the plotlines of some fishermen by saying, “Follow me”? What if it’s speaking to you? If so, finding that disturbingly strange isn’t the end of the story, but it’s a good place to start.

Russell Moore is the editor in chief at Christianity Today and leads its Public Theology Project.

News

Wire Story

Evangelicals for Harris Asked to ‘Cease and Desist’ Billy Graham Ad

Kathryn Post – Religion News Service

Franklin Graham says the campaign is “trying to mislead people” by positioning his father’s preaching in contrast to Donald Trump.

The ad uses clips from a Billy Graham sermon.

YouTube screengrab

The ad begins with a clip of Billy Graham, wearing glasses, a gray suit and tie, leaning in toward a pulpit.

“But you must realize that in the last days, the times will be full of danger,” Graham declares. “Men will become utterly self-centered and greedy for money.”

Suddenly, a clip of former president Donald Trump is spliced in. Standing before a row of American flags at a campaign rally in Des Moines, Trump says: “My whole life I’ve been greedy, greedy, greedy. I’ve grabbed all the money I could get. I’m so greedy.”

For the next few seconds, the ad, which has racked up over 30 million views, flips between Graham’s 1988 sermon, contrasting his points with shots of Trump using violent language, claiming to be “the chosen one” and talking about kissing women without their consent.

That ad, the result of a $1 million ad campaign by Evangelicals for Harris, is now the subject of a potential lawsuit from the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, a Charlotte, North Carolina-based nonprofit that supports the ministries of Billy Graham’s son and grandson.

In late September and early October, Evangelicals for Harris, a grassroots campaign of the political action committee Evangelicals for America, said it received multiple letters from lawyers representing the association, including a “cease and desist” letter. An October 2 letter, sent from outside counsel and obtained by Religion News Service, threatened to sue Evangelicals for Harris on the basis of copyright infringement.

In a statement to RNS, the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association said it does not generally comment on potential disputes, but it acknowledged having communicated with Evangelicals for Harris regarding its concerns about the “unauthorized, political use of BGEA’s copyrighted video,” and said it would continue to address the matter.

“It may be worth noting that, in all of his years of ministry and across relationships with 11 US presidents, Billy Graham sought only to encourage them and to offer them the counsel of Christ, as revealed through God’s Word. He never criticized presidents publicly and would undoubtedly refuse to let his sermons be used to do so, regardless of who is involved,” said the statement.

In August, the association’s president and CEO, Franklin Graham, turned to the social platform X to voice his displeasure at Evangelicals for Harris’s use of his father’s sermons.

“The liberals are using anything and everything they can to promote candidate Harris. They even developed a political ad trying to use my father @BillyGraham’s image. They are trying to mislead people,” he wrote. “Maybe they don’t know that my father appreciated the conservative values and policies of President @realDonaldTrump in 2016, and if he were alive today, my father’s views and opinions would not have changed.”

In response to the threatened lawsuit, Evangelicals for Harris released a statement saying Franklin Graham is taking a page from Trump’s playbook by trying to silence the group through legal action.

“Franklin is scared of our ads because we do not tell people what to do or think. We merely hold Trump’s own words up to the light of Scripture, the necessity of repentance, and Biblical warnings against leaders exactly like Trump,” it wrote in a post on X.

The lawyers representing Evangelicals for Harris also released their formal legal response to the threatened lawsuit. Originally sent on September 28, the letter asserts that the ad does not constitute copyright infringement or violate the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association’s right.

They write that the public discussion of Trump’s moral failings is “essential First Amendment expression” and that the use of Billy Graham’s sermon is protected under the Copyright Act.

“EFH will not be removing the ‘Keep Clear’ advertisement in response to your demand. The advertisement is a transformative, noncommercial use of less than two percent of a widely disseminated video, aimed at a market that BGEA (Billy Graham Evangelistic Association) was prohibited from targeting,” the letter says.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Evangelicals For Harris (@evangelicals4harris)

Evangelicals for Harris was founded by Jim Ball, an evangelical minister and former head of both the Evangelical Environmental Network and Evangelicals for Biden. Since its launch in August, the group has had over 300,000 people sign up for information about the campaign, according to Ball. Jerushah Duford, Billy Graham’s granddaughter; Bishop Claude Alexander of The Park Church in Charlotte, North Carolina; and Baptist pastor Dwight McKissic are among the group’s signatories. (Alexander is also a CT board member.)

Ball said the “Keep Clear” ad, named after Graham’s admonishment to “keep clear of people like that,” was inspired by a desire to rely on the biblical wisdom of Billy Graham, whom Ball considers a personal hero, and to reintroduce young people to the evangelist.

“We’ve never had a situation where a single individual has threatened democracy and the rule of law like Mr. Trump has,” said Ball. “We’re also hoping to provide a witness to others that love should be at the heart of how we look at politics. … How are we called to love our neighbors in the public square? We think hands down that Kamala Harris is the candidate that everyone should be voting for on that regard.”

- More from Billy Graham

Ideas

Facing My Limits in a Flood Zone

Hannah King

As a minister, I’m used to helping people during crisis. But trapped at home during Hurricane Helene, I could only care for who was in front of me.

Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: Unsplash / Getty

When we moved to the small town of Canton, North Carolina, last fall, we heard stories about flooding. Living in the mountains spells unpredictability. In 2021, Tropical Storm Fred flooded the river that runs through our city, destroying significant portions of the downtown area. Some homes and businesses were lost.

So when we heard that Hurricane Helene had headed our way, people took it seriously. It seemed our little city was on guard and prepared for the storm. But on Friday morning, we still watched with collective shock and dismay when floodwaters were approaching rooflines and still rising.

One mantra I’ve been hearing in the aftermath is “Mountain people are resilient.” And they are. The spirit and the strength of our new community in this crisis is honestly staggering. But any level of preparedness or resilience doesn’t nullify trauma. Or homelessness. Or watching your business literally disappear before your eyes in a mudslide.

As community members and church leaders in the area, my husband and I have been eager to support our neighbors who were impacted by the flood. But widespread cellular and internet outages have made even the most basic communication and collaboration difficult. The first few days after the storm, our lives became hyperlocal: We walked through town, talking and praying with people and pooling resources with friends on our street.

Then, my husband started making his way around the county to coordinate broader efforts. I was at home with three small children and no way to hear or share news or participate in citywide projects. My inability to contribute was maddening. I was wracked with a strange combination of frantically wanting to help and being extremely limited in what I could do.

The truth, I soon remembered, is that limitation is a basic human condition. In our digitized, high-speed age, we believe the lie that we are limitless, omnipresent and omniconnected—but in reality, we are so very finite. Sometimes it takes a crisis to force us to realize this. Even then, we tend to rage against our limits, punishing ourselves for not being able to do more or becoming so disillusioned that we retreat into apathy.

But on the other side of the frustration is a freeing realization: All that any of us can do is the one or two things in front of us. We feed our kids; we pray for our neighbors; we donate or fundraise or hand out bottled water. These things might feel laughably small or even irrelevant in the face of national or global crises, but they are the very things God entrusts to us. In return, we must trust that God conscripts us, limits and all, to manifest his limitless love and presence in the world.

I see this promise on display in the composite stories around me. One of my neighbors, a pharmacist, is working part-time shifts at the hospital while also caring for her six school-age kids at home. Another, a pastor’s wife and small business owner, helps empty someone’s flooded house during the day and shares her family’s Wi-Fi signal with needy neighbors (like me) at night. This week, a newly ordained Lutheran minister whom we’ve never met drove a truck full of supplies across the state to our Anglican church—supplies she bought with the money she was gifted for her ordination. In their unique ways, each of them is part of the tapestry God is weaving to showcase his beauty in this tragedy.

Each of them also wishes they could do more. Many out-of-state friends and colleagues wish they could do more than donate, send supplies, or pray. But to those of us on the ground, each small offering we receive multiplies—it becomes not only blankets or bottled water or money but also a tangible reminder that we have not been forgotten. Today I unloaded dozens of relief boxes packed by complete strangers, people I will likely never meet or get to thank directly. Their gifts brought tears to my eyes.

Sometimes, of course, even small acts of obedience like packing a relief box or helping to unload it can feel overwhelming. In a crisis, our brains often lock down and we lose the ability to function normally. We feel overwhelmed by all the needs or frozen with confusion and fear. In these moments, the act of obedience entrusted to us might be as simple as getting out of bed or even offering up a prayer for help.

When I lost my brother suddenly six years ago, my first steps forward included choosing to eat breakfast and then going for a walk outside one day at a time. In the disorientation of that grief, I worked on my own small obedience.

But I did not walk alone. People supported me in myriad ways. They sent flowers, brought meals, played with my kids. Then, as now, it wasn’t a singular hero who swept in and fixed everything but an army of people doing the little things they could do to help. Because of them, my memories of a dark season are littered with gratitude and even joy. I believe the same will be true of this season in my town’s life.

I return to this belief as I grow in my understanding of Helene’s impact in my community. When I walked through town today, I began to realize how long this season will be. We will be recovering from this flood for years. The thought overwhelms me. My limited ability to help others over the long haul—or even to help myself when despair wells up in my throat—tempts me to burn out or to give up.

But in view of God’s expansive resources, our personal limitations are a gift to be received. In our collective weakness, we experience his strength. And in our small acts of obedience, we participate in a much larger economy of grace.

In this economy, the line between “helpers” and “receivers” blurs as we all practice saying “please” and “thank you.” And our confidence grows—not in our ability to accomplish our desired ends, but in the Father’s ability to fulfill his purposes through us.

This frees us to offer up what we have every day, even though we know it’s not enough. We trust that he will take and distribute our offering as he sees fit. We can’t control or understand how our offering might multiply. Sometimes we can’t even see it. But in the end, we will all be fed by his mercy—with baskets left over.

Hannah Miller King is a priest and writer serving at The Vine Anglican Church in Waynesville, North Carolina, and the author of a forthcoming book about living with hope in the presence of pain.

- More from Hannah King

Theology

5 Lessons Christians Can Learn from the Barmen Declaration

Kimlyn Bender

How a wartime confession resisted Hitler’s Nazification of the German church, and why its principles are still relevant today.

The Protestant Bishop Ludwig Muller does the Nazi salute outside the Town hall of Wittenberg in 1933.

Illustration by Christianity Today / Source Images: Getty

In recent weeks, a group of evangelicals crafted a Confession of Evangelical Conviction in response to the “social conflict and political division” plaguing the American church, especially amid another contentious presidential election season.

Few know, however, that this confession was conspicuously modeled on another: the Barmen Declaration of 1934, a framed copy of which hangs in my office. It was penned during Nazi-era Germany by Christians who opposed indirect state interference in the work and life of the church.

The Barmen Declaration has since become a model for resistance against other forms of ideologies and political systems that domesticate the gospel and compromise the church’s witness. It inspired both the Belhar Confession, penned in opposition to South Africa’s apartheid, and the international Orthodox opposition to the Russian Orthodox Church’s nationalist views after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

Making public statements in response to cultural shifts has become a modern evangelical instinct, due in part to the legacy of Barmen. What can we learn from this document, and what critical reminders does it offer the Christian church today? There are many things we might consider, but here are five enduring lessons.

1. Our theology always has real-world implications.

In the 1930s in Germany, a group called the “German Christians” was already sympathetic to the political goals of National Socialism long before the rise of Hitler since they shared its convictions of racial and ethnic nationalism and antisemitism. They hoped to unite various German confessions under a single bishop and establish a single Volkskirche, or “people’s church”—one sympathetic to the Nazi government and supportive of the Germanic ideology of Adolf Hitler’s Reich.

These German Christians believed the divine will was revealed in Jesus Christ and in Scripture, but they also insisted that it could be discerned through natural theology—in nature and historic events. They concluded that the existence of different races and people was God’s design and that each group was to be kept distinct (the intermarriage of Aryans and non-Aryans, specifically Jews, was officially forbidden by the government in 1935). Natural theology for the German Christians was thus one of Volk (“peoplehood”), a mystical fusion of culture, blood (racial supremacy), and soil (land/nation).

In addition, German Christians believed the divine was expressed, and could be discerned, in singular historical turning points. Foremost among these events was the rise of National Socialism and Hitler, which they understood in spiritual terms and took to be the direct work of God’s providence in history for the salvation of the German nation.

In contrast, a group of Christians who called themselves the “Confessing Church” sought to oppose the German Christian teachings and governance. In May 1934 in the city of Barmen, 139 concerned delegates gathered for what would become the Confessing Church’s most famous synod, not least because of the Barmen Declaration that it produced.

Lutherans Hans Asmussen and Thomas Breit and the Reformed theologian Karl Barth were commissioned to write the confession, with Barth as its principal author. The confession has six articles—the most well-known article of which is the first, which states,

Jesus Christ, as he is attested to us in Holy Scripture, is the one Word of God whom we have to hear, and whom we have to trust and obey in life and in death.

“We reject the false doctrine that the Church could and should recognize as a source of its proclamation, beyond and besides this one Word of God, yet other events, powers, historic figures and truths as God’s revelation.

From its first article, the Barmen Declaration explicitly rejects the premises of natural theology, and this rejection is a key to its legacy. In a time when distorted theology led to devastating consequences, the declaration sought a return to “Jesus Christ, as he is attested to us in Holy Scripture.”

2. The church’s confession must be centered on Jesus Christ alone.

Many National Socialists spoke freely about God, but in terms of an absolute being. Most often, they referred to God with reference to his omnipotence as “the Almighty” (this was Hitler’s preferred way to speak of God). Others, like Joseph Goebbels, the Reich’s propaganda minister, spoke passionately of “the Divine” or of “Providence.”

But these were vague utterances. As one pastor during the war observed, the word God in Germany is “an empty word into which any concept can be poured.”

In contrast, every resistance to National Socialism by Confessing Church members—such as Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Barth—was sustained by an appeal to the singular and supreme revelation of God in Jesus Christ as attested in Scripture.

These Christians perceived that, no matter how much traditional Christian language its leaders used, National Socialism was a rival religion that appealed to a different god—whether a god of a mystic ideal of racial superiority, or of the state itself, or of a generic, divine “Almighty.”

Moreover, the theologians in Germany who were most open to a natural theology of nature and history—and in turn downplayed God’s particular revelation in Christ and, at times, denied Jesus’ relation to Israel and Judaism—were those who were the most implicated in compromises with National Socialism.

Only a particular theology of the God of the gospel, a theology of the cross, could ever resist such idolatry in its full force.

3. An exclusive confession of Christ protects against ideological and political capture.

We as Christians can never place our ultimate hope in earthly political leaders or movements, no matter how promising or powerful they seem or however threatened we may believe ourselves to be. (Many Germans overlooked problems with National Socialism and fascism because they were terrified of communism and the Russian revolution of 1917.)

When rightly understood, Barmen offers a basis for both theological and political resistance against any claims to absolute allegiance made by a state or government. It also serves as an inoculation that fights against any ideology, whether of the left or the right, that might invade the church body.

For Christians, there can only be one Lord, one subject of our ultimate hope and allegiance. As the second article of Barmen declares, Jesus Christ has a claim “upon our whole life,” and Christians should reject “the false doctrine that there could be areas of our life in which we would not belong to Jesus Christ but to other lords.”

It was thus inevitable that the church would come into irreconcilable conflict with the National Socialist regime. As Judge Karl Roland Freisler of the Nazi People’s Court in Berlin noted at the death trial of Helmuth James Graf von Moltke: “There is one thing, Herr Graf, which we National Socialists and the Christians have in common, and only one: we both demand the whole man.”

4. Theological declarations, apart from confessional community, are not enough.

Those who assented to the Barmen Declaration not only viewed it as a binding confession but also lived a confessional life together in community. These committed Christians strove to remain faithful to the one Word of God and to be in service to the church and the vulnerable. Though few, they lived a life of intentional witness and corresponding suffering.

Most Protestant churches in Germany had no tradition of political resistance, and most Christians in Germany found such a thing inconceivable. Yet the Confessing Christians learned that, at times, discipleship entailed dissent. Bonhoeffer is perhaps the most famous of such dissenters, but there were many others like him.

Despite its shortcomings, the Confessing Church was the only German entity to resist the Nazi regime. Every other part of the nation—industry, the financial sector, the arts, the universities—was subjugated to state control. And the leaders of the Confessing Church paid a steep price for their convictions. Some were sent to concentration camps. Others were imprisoned or executed.

The Barmen Declaration was poignant because it was not only a statement of words but also a call for a holistic commitment to a costly way of life.

5. We should not romanticize Barmen but seek to live out its spirit in our present age.

It is tempting for us to romanticize Barmen, but there are a couple reasons why we should not do so.

Even for those who strongly disliked the government’s interference in their self-governance, most pastors in Germany—including many who were part of the Confessing Church—were not necessarily opposed to the National Socialist movement itself. Most remained loyal to their nation’s government, not wanting to appear unpatriotic or sectarian in any way.

In fact, the majority welcomed the chance to demonstrate their loyalty by signing up to serve in the German army when the war came. And despite several contrary examples, most said nothing when persecution of Jews and others intensified and was evident to all.

Moreover, we should remember that any superficial comparison between modern Western democracies in the early 21st century to Nazi Germany in the 1930s and ’40s is unhelpful and often distortive. While some Christians in America see themselves as being in a state of persecution, such does not begin to compare to the systematic oppression of the churches that intensified in Germany from 1935 onward and throughout the war.

What can be directly applied from Barmen, though, is that the ultimate task of the church is not to align itself with the levers of political power for its own self-preservation. Rather, the church should trust its safeguarding to the Lord, in whom we find our true and proper power.

Faithfulness to the gospel, not political effectiveness, is the church’s divine commission. And there are real dangers when these are reversed or when the first is replaced by the second.

Two decades after World War II, in his treatise “The Christian Community and the Civil Community,” Barth remarked prophetically, “The secret contempt [that] a church fighting for its own interests with political weapons usually incurs even when it achieves a certain amount of success, is well deserved.”

In the end, the Christians in Germany who were the most committed to resisting the evils of the state were, ironically, those who were the least invested in preserving the church for its own sake. Instead, they were interested only in remaining faithful to the gospel—and this translated into acts of political resistance, often by Christians who were little known and frequently forgotten.

Friedrich Justus Perels was a Christian lawyer in Germany who was deeply involved in the Confessing Church. With remarkable clarity of conviction, he worked to free political prisoners, help relatives of those in concentration camps, and assist Jews in Germany. For these actions, he was arrested in October 1944.

On February 2, 1945, he was condemned to death. During the trial in Berlin, Freisler, the judge who presided over the trial, screamed at Perels: “After the war the Church will be wiped out.”

But Perels calmly replied, “The Church will endure.”

This is the confession of one whose hope was not in the church itself but in God, who through his Son promised that the gates of hell would not prevail against it.

Kimlyn J. Bender is the Foy Valentine Professor of Christian Theology and Ethics at George W. Truett Theological Seminary, Baylor University. His books include Reading Karl Barth for the Church and 1 Corinthians in the Brazos Theological Commentary series.

- More from Kimlyn Bender

News

Back at Shooting Site, Trump Supporters Pray for His Protection

Harvest Prude and Megan Fowler in Butler, Pennsylvania

Still shaken by the tragic attack, Butler, Pennsylvania, welcomed the former president back with cheers of triumph and a memorial for the previous rally’s victim.

Donald Trump returned on Saturday to the scene of his attempted assassination in July.

Justin Merriman / Bloomberg via Getty Images

When Kori Koss heard that Donald Trump was coming back to Butler, she felt her stomach sink.

It’s been less than three months since a would-be assassin’s gunshots narrowly missed the former president. The shooter killed one man, 50-year-old Corey Comperatore, and gravely injured two others.

Koss lives down the road from the Butler Farm Show grounds, close enough that she and her kids had set out chairs and set up a livestream of the July 13 rally. Close enough that at 6:11 p.m., they heard what they thought were fireworks.

Her husband, who had walked to the rally, called and told her someone was shooting. She told him in a panic to “get out of there.”

So when she found out Trump was returning in less than a week, she prayed every day leading up to the rally. When Saturday dawned, she took a chair, a cup of coffee, and her Bible out to her backyard that faces the rally site and opened up to Psalm 27.

Out of the first five verses, one line especially struck her: “My heart will not fear.” Meditating on that psalm, with its themes of God’s protection, brought the 46-year-old mother comfort and a sense of peace.

Koss, who attends a Christian and Missionary Alliance church in Butler, prayed Psalm 27 “over Trump and America” and prayed that “others would come to know God through this event.”

When the day of the rally came, it felt like déjà vu. Once again, her family opened up their yard for parking for rally-goers and exchanged small talk with attendees who tramped through her backyard. Once again, her father-in-law and husband attended. She and her kids watched from their backyard. But this time, there were no gunshots.

This time, the stream of people that filed in did not file out until much later. The rally wrapped up without any tragic incidents.

“Butler is a pretty tough, patriotic, resilient community,” Koss said. “I think people obviously showed up to support each other, like the churches did.”

Koss wasn’t the only person praying over her town.

The day before the rally, a group of Trump supporters gathered to “pray for the protection and safety” of Trump and the event, Deseret News reported.

Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about… pic.twitter.com/Z3RoeGUslh
— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) September 30, 2024

The prayer gathering opened with the Lord’s Prayer, and the group also prayed a prayer to Saint Michael the Archangel, which Trump had recently shared on social media. Eventually, the gathering shifted into a testimony night, where people shared where they had been when the original shooting happened, Deseret wrote.

Back at the rally grounds, the former president’s event was part somber memorial service, part “Trump farm show,” as Koss put it.

During his remarks, Trump fired up his supporters, saying that when the July shooting took place, “we all took a bullet for America.”

“Exactly 12 weeks ago this evening on this very ground, a cold-blooded assassin aimed to silence me and to silence the greatest movement, MAGA, in the history of our country,” Trump said.

“But by the hand of providence and the grace of God, that villain did not succeed in his goal, did not come close. He did not stop our movement; he did not break out our spirit. He did not shake our unyielding resolve to save America from evils of poverty, hatred, and destruction.”

In the bleachers behind the stage, Comperatore’s firefighter coat and helmet were placed where he had been sitting at the July rally. Introductory remarks paid tribute to Comperatore and honored his family members, who attended the event.

In the hours of speeches leading up to Trump’s appearance, nearly every speaker hailed the courage of the first responders on July 13, remembered David Dutch and James Copenhaven, the two men injured in the shooting, and honored Comperatore’s memory.

Many also attributed Trump’s survival to God, with his daughter-in-law Lara Trump saying that God had spared Trump’s life: “Donald Trump was made for a time such as this.”

“If you have any questions whether God exists and whether he performs miracles, we got our answer right here July 13 in Butler, Pennsylvania,” said Lara Trump, who serves as the cochair of the Republican National Committee.

Trump’s running mate, JD Vance, told the crowd, “I truly believe God saved President Trump’s life that day.” The Ohio senator also joined the crowd in chants of “Corey, Corey, Corey.”

He told attendees that it was a “testament to your courage and patriotism that you’re here again today.”

James Sweetland, the doctor who had come to Comperatore’s aid at the July rally, shared his story from the stage. Sweetland said after the shots rang out, he heard someone shouting that a bystander was down, but he hesitated to assist. Then he heard a “clear, rich, and reassuring” voice telling him to go help. “I’m telling you right now, that was the voice of God,” he said.

At 6:11 p.m., Trump led the crowd in a moment of silence while bells tolled four times for each victim. Tenor Christopher Macchio then sang “Ave Maria.”

“Corey’s not with us tonight, and he should be,” he said, mentioning the volunteer firefighter’s widow and two daughters by name. “I can only imagine the depths of your grief.”

Some speakers urged rally-goers to help turn down the heated political rhetoric. A local sheriff asked them to disagree respectfully and passionately but “without violence.” Sweetland challenged attendees to reach out to at least two people they know with different political views and ask to meet with them to discuss their differences “in a civil and respectful manner.”

After that, Trump’s remarks quickly shifted to standard rally fare, and he touched on everything from immigration to fracking with bombast, at times doubling down on debunked claims that he won the 2020 election and directing insults toward Democratic presidential nominee Kamala Harris.

At one point, Trump invited tech billionaire Elon Musk on stage. Musk, who endorsed Trump July 13, encouraged everyone in the crowd to pester their friends and family until they registered to vote.

A massive crowd filling the grounds listened to the former president with reverence, occasionally punctuating the air with chants or a stray “We love you, Trump!”

Some dedicated supporters had even camped out the night before to get a good spot in line, and traffic in the surrounding area had slowed to a crawl by that morning. The grounds bristled with a large security contingent, with local police presence and Secret Service agents dotting the crowd and snipers watching on nearby rooftops.

Rally-goers sported typical campaign merch, but many also wore T-shirts or held signs referencing the Butler event.

Many waved signs that read “Fight! Fight! Fight!,” a reference to Trump’s words after the bullet grazed his ear and he got back on his feet to let the crowd know he was all right. Others wore shirts with an image of Trump with his fist in the air and the caption, “I Survived Butler.”

Jacob King, a student at nearby Grove City College, will cast his first vote for Trump come November. The 18-year-old, who sported a “Jesus is my Savior, Trump is my president” T-shirt, told Christianity Today he likes how Trump “stands for more freedom in our country.”

Karen Toff, a 63-year-old with short hair dyed pink, had a “Women for Trump” button pinned to a shirt that read “Pray, Vote, Pray.” She said that Trump is the “most pro-life president we’ve ever had.”

Toff, who belongs to a Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod congregation, said she appreciates Trump’s stance on shifting abortion policy to the states. She’s found herself disagreeing with other pro-life Christians who have voiced support for a national abortion ban: “I don’t think that’s reasonable.”

Toff said she also supports Trump’s foreign policy. “We need to help our people first,” she said.

Several attendees mentioned economic issues, citing high gas and grocery prices, as reasons they thought life had been better when Trump was president.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by President Donald J. Trump (@realdonaldtrump)

Lisa Sicilia, who carried a Bible with her and offered “hallelujah” and “amen” in response to the speakers’ remarks, said she had been praying at the July 13 rally. On Saturday, she made her way through the crowd to the front. Standing by the short metal fence, she bowed her head and clasped her hands until the end of the event.

Around town, the aftereffects of the shooting have lingered. One congregation, the Church of God at Connoquenessing, put up billboards in several spots around town, including near the fairgrounds, that read, “We Thank God For His Mercy. We Comfort Those Who Mourn.”

Another, Gospel Life Church in nearby Evans City, set up a pop-up prayer tent in the days after the shooting with signs that read, “Pray for America.” Kori Koss stopped to join in prayer after seeing the signs on her way home one day.

Karen DeLorenzo, a 43-year-old teacher who attends a Presbyterian church in town, said she thought the rallies had driven more people to put out many Trump-Vance signs, as well as a few Harris-Walz signs.

“People are a little more open with what their feelings are, in either direction,” she said.

Brandon Lenhart, the senior pastor at North Main Street Church of God, said the weeks after the shooting were “surreal.” Helicopters and a security presence remained in town, and major news outlets camped out near the Farm Show grounds and held interviews in local spots like Vintage Coffee House.

“Now we’re on the map, but not in the way I think we would like to be. You don’t want to be known for ‘That’s the place the assassination attempt happened on this former president,’” he said.

Families from North Main Street Church attended both rallies, though one woman, who had been less than ten feet away from Comperatore during the time of the shooting, told Lenhart she couldn’t go back. Another couple, who parked in Koss’s neighborhood for both rallies, left the rally early and came back to their car after only a few hours. They found they just couldn’t stay.

In the aftermath of the July rally, Lenhart found himself preparing remarks on Saturday night to address the tragedy when he took the pulpit. “It is a traumatic experience for many in our community. Many of our churches had people there, so I felt like I should address that,” Lenhart said.

This time around, there thankfully wasn’t any need to scramble the church’s regular programming.

DeLorenzo, who also lives close to the Farm Show, was glad when she heard that Trump was returning.

“I think it was important for Butler to have a second [rally] back here again too,” DeLorenzo said, “to end on a better note. Rather than being remembered by that, let’s be remembered by this huge, peaceful rally.”

Share

Share

Related

Share

Share

Related

Share

Share

Related

Share

Pergamum and Thyatira call us to remain true to God in a world that exalts power

Smyrna and Philadelphia show us how to suffer redemptively in an unstable world

Ephesus and Sardis remind us to keep our love alive in hardworking cities

Laodicea challenges us to remain dependent on God in a self-reliant culture

Share

Share

Share

Related

Share

Share

Related

Share

Share

Related

Share

Share

Related

Share

1. Our theology always has real-world implications.

2. The church’s confession must be centered on Jesus Christ alone.

3. An exclusive confession of Christ protects against ideological and political capture.

4. Theological declarations, apart from confessional community, are not enough.

5. We should not romanticize Barmen but seek to live out its spirit in our present age.

Share

Related

Share

Share