When Power Trumps Love

I’m an evangelical Christian, who believes the Bible is true and our public life matters. That’s exactly why I’m troubled. In the zeal of Christians, particularly those of us who consider ourselves Evangelicals, “winning” the culture war, too many of us have blessed hard-edged tactics and harsh rhetoric, and then wondered why our witness tastes bitter. I have to believe Second Lady Usha Vance would attest to this, at least partly, for not converting to the Christianity she sees in her husband, Vice President JD Vance. Jesus said we’re known by our fruit, not the volume of our voice or the brutality through which we exercise our beliefs on others (Matt. 7:16). Paul said the Spirit’s fruit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control (Gal. 5:22–23). If our methods contradict that list, our methods preach louder than our words.

Today’s politics have exposed the fault lines in this method of Christianity. In 2024 a New York jury convicted Donald Trump on 34 felony counts of falsifying business records. Separately, in 2025 an appeals court upheld an $83.3 million defamation judgment against him in E. Jean Carroll’s case. These are legal facts, not partisan jabs. They sit alongside years of documented misogynistic speech—most notoriously the 2005 “Access Hollywood” recording—and dehumanizing rhetoric about immigrants “poisoning the blood” of the country. When Christians excuse the abhorrent behavior of our political leaders as mere “style,” we teach our own hearts that outcomes excuse character. Where does the Bible preach that?

Yes, God sometimes works through flawed rulers—Cyrus (Isa. 45), and Nebuchadnezzar (Dan. 4) are examples of this. But Scripture never treats that as a blank check for vice. In fact, God’s Prophets blessed truth and confronted sin, often in the same breath. Nathan told King David, “You are the man,” but he was also admonished for his sins, which cost him his first son (2 Sam. 12). Calling a leader an “instrument of God” while absolving them of ongoing cruelty, dishonesty, or sexual immorality confuses providence with approval. Isaiah warns against calling evil good (Isa. 5:20). Love “rejoices with the truth” (1 Cor. 13:6). Truth without love bruises; love without truth blinds.

Allow me to step out of my comfort and talk about the act of abortion. I am pro-life because every person, born or unborn, bears God’s image. But a consistent pro-life ethic does more than notch court wins; it surrounds mothers and children with practical care—maternal health, paid family leave, foster and adoption reform, church budgets that privilege benevolence for mothers over branding. James defines “pure religion” as the caring for orphans and widows in their distress (Jas. 1:27). If the church truly wants to the world to believe their pro-life stance, it needs to extend that beyond the womb and child birth. But if our energy peaks at the ballot box and fades at the baby bottle, we’ve mislabeled our cause. 

Immigration reveals another crack. Even if you favor stricter borders, the expectations of God when it comes to our fellow man are not up for negotiation. “Love the stranger,” God commands, “for you were strangers” (Deut. 10:19). The Good Samaritan used what he had—bandages, oil, a donkey, money—to love the neighbor in front of him (Luke 10:25–37). James is blunt about blessing God while cursing people made in His image (Jas. 3:9–10). If our rhetoric degrades migrants or our policies break up families, we are protecting comfort, not contending for the gospel.

Voting and representation matter, too. “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves… defend the rights of the poor and needy” (Prov. 31:8–9). That means we care—concretely—about access to voting, the drawing of precincts maps, because people (not parties) bear God’s image.

Now the heart-work. Many of us have learned to treat political victory as a sacrament. We excuse cruelty because “the stakes are high,” share half-truths because “the media is biased,” and shrug at disenfranchisement because “our side needs parity.” Jesus calls that straining gnats while swallowing camels (Matt. 23:23–24). The prophets called it empty worship—songs on Sunday with injustice at the door (Isa. 58:6–7). If our activism cannot pass the test of love, it fails the test of discipleship (John 13:35).

So here is the hard, hopeful invitation, especially for those tempted to anoint President Trump as a divine instrument and move on: examine the fruit. Does championing him make us more patient, gentle, truthful, self-controlled (Gal. 5:22–23)? Or more fearful, cynical, and cruel? Are we teaching our children that the ends justify means, that power sanctifies contempt, that the cross is a strategy? The cross is not a tactic. It’s a death to self.

So how do we repent, how do we turn away from this? We re-center ourselves to discipleship of other over domination of the weaker. Christian citizens would defend not just the unborn but also the underfed; we would pursue secure borders and also the dignity of the stranger. We would demand election integrity and broad access for every eligible voter. We would be people who fact-check before we forward, who pray for opponents before we post about them, who serve local needs with the same zeal with which we vote for national interests. “Search me, O God… try me… see if there is any grievous way in me” (Ps. 139:23–24). There have been times, even recently, where my own personal actions eclipsed the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5–7), and I am trying to change that about myself.

To be clear, I am not calling for an abandonment of conviction, but rather than we work to recover credibility as Christians. Laws shape lives, yes. But if we gain favorable legislation and forfeit a Christlike witness, we’ve traded the world’s approval for the saving of our souls and perhaps the souls of others (Mark 8:36).

The world is not starving for our outrage. It is starving for our Christlikeness. Let’s be known again by the fruit that proves the root from which it comes.