I’ve been struggling this week. And maybe struggling isn’t the right word—dour? I believe this is the case because it’s been a pretty depressing week to step back and look at our world and our country. Aside from the various war-mongering events across the globe and devastating mishaps like the Francis Scott Key Bridge collapse, my text messages and social media feeds are filled with Muslims, atheists, and politicians using the phrase “Christ is King” to either mock or score political points. Then, I came across the “God Bless the USA” Bible—the ONLY Bible inspired by the song “God Bless the USA” and Donald Trump—and the word “dour” just feels about right. I’m dour because I feel like I am watching two ideologies pull at Christendom like two stray dogs fighting over a chicken bone—and the bone is trying to figure out which dog it would prefer to chew on it.

In one starving canine, we have those antagonistic to the Gospel of Jesus, ripping away at the church, striving to see it devoured. In the other hungry pup, we see those seeking to abuse the Gospel of Jesus for political or systemic gain (aka “Christian Nationalism” which, let us be honest, if you abuse something, is there really much difference in that and antagonism toward it?). In the middle, we have what I’ll call “Christendom.”

Christendom can be defined as, “an acknowledgment of the Lordship of Jesus Christ in all things.” And I should nuance this: Christendom, to me, is the understanding that Christ is Lord (King) whether you like it or not. He does reign. The world is under his feet. Paul writes in Ephesians, “And he put all things under his feet and gave him as head over all things to the church” (Eph. 1:23). Christ is over all and heads his church. This means, Christians understand all authority in heaven and on earth (Matthew 28:18) belongs to Jesus. This does not mean we demand theocracy.

Instead, this means that when Christians vote, we vote with the mind of Christ—with biblical definitions of love for our neighbor, seeking to extend the fruit of the spirit and the peace of the Gospel of Jesus to our neighbors and enemies. Sometimes we do this with strong conviction, sometimes we do this holding our noses.

This means when Christians work, we refuse to participate in industries and activities that poorly represent or blatantly offend the Gospel of Jesus. Sometimes this means finding new employment or a new career.

But, maybe most relevant to my current dourness, this means that when Christians claim the name of Christ, they represent him as ambassadors and bondservants well. In other words, we are not free to choose when to represent Christ or how—you are either the Bride or a blemish to be cleared away by Christ (Eph. 5:25-27). Those are your only two options.

And so, I am struggling with the idea that the bone must try to “pick a pup,” as if the teeth of one ravenous hound are less crushing or sharp than the teeth of the other.

Now, admittedly, this is where my chicken bone illustration falls apart because the church isn’t a chicken bone—though there ARE dogs. And somehow, this actually makes it worse: because the church is the body of Christ, the Temple, equipped with the full armor of God and we are allowing ourselves to be tugged and pulled into choosing the dog with the duller teeth as if we were no more than a bone. Church, if we hold to the Word of God and the Gospel of Jesus, we have something much sharper than the teeth of those dogs—“the word of God, is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb. 4:12).

Being Holy Week, maybe we can draw an illustration of all of the above: whether you are Caiaphas, seeking the death of Jesus, or Peter swinging a sword in the garden, it doesn’t matter much. Because this King of Israel came riding on a donkey, a king of peace. He will not be done away with, and he will not be weaponized. If you do either, you’ve misunderstood the King.

Church, don’t allow the dogs to convince you to pick a side—Temples don’t pick sides, they are built for their God by their God.

Don’t find yourself using your sword to defend one starving hound over the other—they both want to devour you.

If Christ has no governance of your world outside the Church, you are not on his side.

If Christ is only King so long as he fits your expectations, your ideas of dominion and rule, your ideas of political governance, then you don’t have Christendom, you have Christian Nationalism.

I’m tired (1) of one side calling out the other, (2) of pastors calling one dog to accountability over the other, and (3) of one dog telling the other to watch where its teeth bite. This is one of those situations where BOTH kids need to be grounded because I no longer care “who started it.”

Church—friends—how about a little less agenda and a little more adherence to the Gospel of Jesus?

I mean, what are we even doing, people?

Dour.