Time to Move on From…
Us vs. Them.
Right or Wrong.
Left or Right.
Conservative or Progressive.
It’s time to move on from these.
The future of a healthy, vibrant Christian faith lies in embracing the gray areas, finding peace in the nuances, and offering Christ-like hospitality to all. Imagine a faith that listens, learns, and welcomes without judgment—a faith rooted in humility and the love of Jesus.
This kind of openness flourishes in the context of friendship, where real conversations happen and hearts soften. Unfortunately, too many of us have experienced the opposite—being told what to think, either from a pulpit or through the loud voices on social media. These spaces often feel combative, shallow, and divisive.
Take, for instance, the growing trend of pastors using their platforms to dictate political choices. One local megachurch pastor recently claimed a “clear prompting from the Holy Spirit” to spend an entire sermon endorsing a particular candidate. This approach feels troubling, especially when we consider how silent Jesus and Paul were about voting, even though both lived in societies with established voting systems.
As my friend and colleague Dan White noted, “Why doesn’t Jesus say anything about it? Neither does Paul, a Roman citizen and Pharisee. Curious.”
The question lingers: if Jesus and Paul didn’t feel compelled to speak on this, why do so many pastors feel otherwise?
What if, instead of amplifying partisan voices, we turned down the noise and tuned into the voice of Christ? The Sermon on the Mount offers a roadmap for living a faith rooted in humility, peacemaking, and love—one that stands in stark contrast to the tribalism that dominates so much of our cultural and religious discourse.
A Sobering Reality
It’s disheartening to witness how often we’re discipled by emotional immaturity—by loud, bold personalities whose messages reach far but lack depth. As René Girard wisely observed, “The crowd is untruth.”
I’ll admit, this makes my blood boil. But beneath the anger is weariness, and beneath the weariness is deep sadness. Sometimes, piercing through the noise feels overwhelming and lonely. But I remind myself—and I remind you—we are not alone.
Many of us are stepping away from these cultural currents, seeking something richer, deeper, and more restorative: the third way of the Kingdom of Christ.
A New Movement
While some lament the decline of institutional church attendance, I see hope. People aren’t abandoning faith; they’re walking away from the constraints of religious fundamentalism. They’re leaving behind the shallow structures of the church growth movement, celebrity pastor culture, and partisan alliances.
And yes, there are still people trying to prop up these systems, but the cracks are showing. For those of us who have stepped out, a new kind of faith is emerging—one rooted in depth, freedom, and restoration.
This is the gift of Christ-like hospitality. It’s a practice of radical love, sitting with those who are different from us, and creating space where transformation can happen. As Henri Nouwen so beautifully put it:
“Hospitality means primarily the creation of free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy. Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place.”
Hope in Action
The numbers may feel sobering—only 18% of U.S. adults report weekly church attendance today—but perhaps this decline is an opportunity. It’s a chance to rediscover the ancient, restorative rhythms of Jesus’s hospitality: meals shared with outcasts, enemy love, and the refusal to participate in tribalism.
In our time, the divide is between conservative and progressive. In Jesus’s time, the divides were between Zealots, Essenes, Pharisees, and Sadducees. Yet, He chose to dine with the despised and offer a radical alternative—a kingdom not of this world.
I see this same kingdom rising today.
Honoring a Legend
I want to end with a word about Tony Campolo, who passed away this week. Tony was a fiery advocate for justice, unconditional love, and living out the red letters of Jesus. In college, I was on “chapel probation” because I skipped so many mandatory services. But the one I’ll never forget was when Tony came to speak.
His words challenged the room, and while many felt uncomfortable, I found myself captivated. Tony embodied the kind of faith I long for—one of passion, authenticity, and radical hospitality. May he rest now in the loving presence of Christ.
My favorite Tony Campolo quote, “Mixing politics and religion is like mixing ice cream and manure. It doesn’t do much to the manure, but it sure ruins the ice cream.”
Final Thoughts
What are we leaving out when it comes to Christ-like hospitality? What might we learn if we let go of what’s crumbling and stepped fully into the beauty of this ancient, life-giving way?
I’ll share more soon, including a sermon I once preached about hospitality—a sermon so uncomfortable it was quickly removed from the church’s website.
The discomfort was worth it. This is the kind of faith we’re called to—one that creates space for transformation, healing, and love. Let’s lean into it together.