The air is thick with tension. The 2024 election just handed Donald Trump a second term as President of the United States. Some are celebrating with unrestrained enthusiasm, while others are grieving deeply, fearing what the next four years will bring.
Social media is on fire. Friends are unfriending. Families are fracturing along party lines. And the Church? Too often, it mirrors the same battle lines drawn by political ideologies rather than the unshakable love of Christ.
But as followers of Jesus, our mandate is clear. Our loyalty cannot be aligned with a party, a policy, or a president. Our ultimate allegiance is to Christ and His Kingdom. The question we must ask ourselves is not “Did my preferred candidate win?” but rather, “Am I living with integrity, with love, and with a commitment to the Gospel’s call to care for the oppressed and the vulnerable?”
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The Gospel’s call to justice and mercy
Isaiah paints a sobering picture of God’s expectation for His people:
“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter — when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?” (Isaiah 58:6-7).
God does not ask where our taxes will go. He does not instruct us to critically calculate how many might possibly take advantage of our generosity. He simply commands us to act — to bring freedom, to serve, to shelter, to love.
Jesus Himself reaffirmed this calling throughout His own ministry here on earth. The parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37) shatters the idea that our kindness should be reserved for those who share our values, beliefs, or political ideologies. In Matthew 25, Christ makes it unequivocal: caring for the hungry, the sick, and the imprisoned is not optional — it is the baseline measure of our faith.
So why, then, do so many believers justify treating others with contempt when political tensions run high?
How we treat others is the true litmus test
It is easy to define ourselves by what we stand against. Of course, the things we oppose feel urgent, even boldly righteous. But if our identity is primarily rooted in resisting evil rather than actively embodying good, we risk being consumed by the very darkness we detest. When we focus solely on fighting what is wrong, it is terrifyingly easy to lose sight of our higher calling — to live as beacons of light, to better our communities, to embody love and healing in a world desperate for both.
Paul instructs in Romans 12:18, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” This does not mean we ignore injustice or shrink from truth. Far from it. But it does mean we engage with humility, grace, and an unwavering commitment to reflecting the character of Christ in our everyday demeanor.
We must ask ourselves:
- Do my words reflect love, or do they serve primarily to tear down?
- Am I truly listening to those who think differently, or am I just waiting to prove them wrong?
- Am I more concerned with winning arguments than winning hearts?
There will always be injustices to confront. But while we fight against oppression, we must also fight for healing. While we oppose corruption, we must also build integrity. While we resist cruelty, we must cultivate kindness.
Our faith is not just about standing against what is evil — it is about living in a way that makes God’s goodness undeniable.
Freedom for the oppressed — not just political, but personal
Justice is not only about laws and policies — it is about people. When we fixate solely on government decisions, we risk abdicating our personal responsibility to be the hands and feet of Christ.
So much of our energy gets invested into battling or exposing what’s wrong with the world, yet we easily forget that we each possess the ability to shape something safe right within reach. There is power in deliberately choosing to turn our attention toward what is good. (That’s not at all the same as ignoring what is broken. It simply means refusing to let brokenness become our defining force.)
The Gospel is lived out in these small, daily choices — the conversations we engage in, the way we treat those around us, the spaces we cultivate. When these interactions are saturated with angry divisiveness, we cannot help but gradually become part of the very darkness we claim to oppose. But when we live in a way that consistently chooses grace over cynicism, hope over despair, and action over apathy — we step more and more fully into God’s calling.
As Friedrich Nietzsche famously warned, “He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.” If we allow ourselves to be shaped more by political outrage than by Gospel compassion, how can we help but be influenced by what we claim to resist?
Instead:
- What if we dedicated more time to volunteering in our communities than to debating online?
- What if we sought out those who feel most unseen and unheard and gave them the gift of attentively listening to their life stories, rather than isolating ourselves in ideological bubbles?
- What if we embodied a faith so compelling in its mercy and love that the world took notice — not because of our political stance, but because of the captivating evidence of Christ’s character being lived out in how we treat others around us?
Our first allegiance is to Christ
No political leader, no government, no law can ever replace our individual role as Gospel-believers in bringing hope and healing to the brokenness of our world.
Jesus never instructed us to first secure the right government before loving our neighbors. He never said, “Ensure your candidate wins, do everything in your power to smear the opposition, and then you can begin to serve.”
His command was simply this: “Follow me.”
No matter where you fall on the political spectrum, your highest calling remains unchanged. Live with integrity. Love others well. Defend the oppressed. Bring freedom to the captive. Support the less fortunate.
For in the end, when we stand before God, He will not ask us which party we voted for. He will ask how we treated those He placed in our path.
And in that moment, the only answer that will matter is whether we reflected the heart of Christ in a world desperate for His love.
Sarah McDugal is an author, speaker, abuse recovery coach, and co-founder of Wilderness to WILD & the TraumaMAMAs mobile app. She creates courses, community, and coaching for women recovering from deceptive sexual trauma, coercive control, and intimate terrorism.
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