We All Feel It
America is breaking. And if you’re honest, you feel it too.
The assassination of Charlie Kirk. The attempts on our President’s life. The murders that fill our news feeds. School shootings that have become so common we’re almost numb to them. Riots when elections don’t go the way people want. The hatred that spills from our screens and poisons our dinner tables.
We’re more connected than we’ve ever been—and somehow more divided than at any point in recent memory.
I Remember When We Were Different
A few weeks ago, we remembered September 11, 2001. I remember where I was when the towers fell. When the Pentagon burned. When Flight 93 went down in that Pennsylvania field because ordinary people became heroes in their final moments.
I remember the grief. But I also remember something else—the unity.
In 2001, our churches were packed with people crying out to God. Today, many sit half-empty while we rage at each other on social media. Back then, flags hung from every porch. Neighbors actually checked on each other. We couldn’t agree on much, but for a little while after those towers fell, we were truly one nation under God.
That unity feels like a dream now, doesn’t it?
How Did We Get Here?
I don’t think our crisis started with the latest headline. The unraveling began decades ago when we started dismantling the moral foundation this nation was built on.
When We Silenced God in Schools
In 1962 and 1963, the Supreme Court made two decisions—Engel v. Vitale and Abington School District v. Schempp—that removed prayer and Bible reading from public schools. For generations before that, children started their day acknowledging God. It was part of the rhythm of learning. Suddenly, His name was silenced in the classroom.
Now, I know the phrase “separation of church and state” gets thrown around a lot. But here’s what is seldom mentioned—that phrase isn’t in our Constitution. It comes from a letter Thomas Jefferson wrote to protect the Church from government interference, not to muzzle the Church’s voice in society.
Here’s what happened: We removed the moral compass that had guided young hearts for over 200 years. And then we wondered why they lost their way.
When We Decided Some Lives Don’t Matter
In 1973, Roe v. Wade legally redefined what a human life is worth. Since that decision, more than 63 million abortions have happened in America. That’s more lives than the entire population of Italy.
When we said that life in the womb was expendable—that it could be ended by choice—something shifted in our culture. If the most innocent and vulnerable lives are disposable, why would we value the elderly? The disabled? Even people who just disagree with us?
Here’s what happened: We became a society that’s grown callous to violence, death, and the destruction of those who can’t defend themselves.
When Fathers Walked Away
Here’s a stat that breaks my heart: nearly 1 in 4 children in America grows up without a father in the home. That’s 17.6 million kids.
But that number doesn’t capture what’s really happening. It’s not just a statistic—it’s a little boy waiting by the window for a dad who never comes home. It’s a daughter who grows up searching for love in all the wrong places because she never learned what faithful love looks like.
Kids from fatherless homes are six times more likely to commit crimes. Eighty-five percent of youth in prison grew up without a dad. Seventy-one percent of high school dropouts? Fatherless homes. Sixty percent of youth suicides? Same story.
Here’s what happened: We raised boys who had enough birthdays to be called men but never learned what it means to take responsibility, to lead with courage, or to love with sacrificial strength.
The Numbers Don’t Lie
Look, I wish I could share how things are getting better. But the evidence tells a different story:
Violence is everywhere. School shootings have increased twelve-fold since 1970. Kids today are four times more likely to experience school violence than they were fifty years ago. Since 1966, there have been 502 mass shooting incidents with over 1,700 deaths.
Families are fractured. We’ve created a generation where the wounded are raising the wounded.
The Church has stepped back. Only 30% of adults attend church regularly now—down from 40% just twenty years ago. And we’ve stepped back precisely when the culture needed us most.
But Here’s What We’re Forgetting
From the very beginning, the local church wasn’t just a place to go on Sundays. It was the beating heart of community life. It’s where neighbors met. Where families worshiped. Where children learned. Where the moral compass of a young nation was shaped.
In the 1830s, a French historian named Alexis de Tocqueville visited America. You know what amazed him? It wasn’t our government or our wealth. It was our churches. He said the Church in America gave birth to the spirit of freedom, charity, and self-sacrifice that defined our culture.
And history backs him up:
Churches founded our schools and universities. Churches established hospitals and orphanages long before the government ever thought to. Churches led the movement to abolish slavery. Churches fueled the civil rights movement, turning pulpits into platforms for justice rooted in God’s truth.
That’s who we were.
But today, that influence is fading. Only 30% of us attend church weekly. For many, “regular attendance” means once a month. Fewer than 5% of Christians tithe faithfully. The average believer gives less than 3% of their income.
Now imagine—just imagine—if every believer practiced biblical generosity. Billions of dollars would be unleashed. Not for political campaigns or corporate profits, but for what the Church does best: feeding the hungry, caring for widows and orphans, funding missions, strengthening families, transforming communities.
We could literally address many of the problems we’re lamenting right now.
So here’s the question that should keep us up at night: What if the Church rose again to be what she was always meant to be? What if we valued her the way our forefathers did—investing our lives and resources into her mission?
If we did that, America wouldn’t just remember its roots. It would rediscover its hope.
And We Need to Talk About This
There’s something else happening that grieves me deeply: the resurgence of antisemitism. Even among some who claim to follow Jesus.
This hatred isn’t new. It’s as ancient as Pharaoh. As violent as Babylon. As cruel as Hitler. But it shocks me to see it rising again in American universities and even in church pews.
Scripture couldn’t be clearer. God told Abraham, “I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse” (Genesis 12:3). The psalmist wrote, “Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: ‘May they prosper who love you'” (Psalm 122:6).
To harbor hatred for the Jewish people is to oppose the God who chose them. To despise Israel is to forget that our Savior—Jesus Christ Himself—came from this nation.
My Own Confession
I need to be honest with you. I’ve been part of the problem.
Too many times, I chose silence when I should have spoken up. I was too comfortable when I should have been concerned. Too polite when I should have been prophetic.
There’s a verse in Ezekiel that haunts me: “If the watchman sees the sword coming and does not blow the trumpet to warn the people… I will hold the watchman accountable for their blood” (Ezekiel 33:6).
That’s convicting. Because Edmund Burke was right when he said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
Not to call myself good, except to hopefully distinguish myself from “evil”, but I’ve done nothing too many times. And for that, I repent.
We’ve Lost Something Important
There was a time—not that long ago—when political opponents could still treat each other as fellow Americans. Ronald Reagan and Tip O’Neill would go at it all day in Washington, then sit down together at night with a glass of Irish whiskey, laughing about their battles while respecting their shared love of country.
Can you even imagine that today?
Now it’s not enough to disagree. You have to hate. You have to cancel. You have to destroy. We don’t debate ideas anymore—we assassinate character. We don’t try to understand—we try to obliterate.
The result? A fractured, fragile nation where neighbors are afraid of each other and families split over politics.
But Here’s What I Really Believe
Our real enemy isn’t each other. It’s not left versus right. It’s not red versus blue.
Our battle is against the sin, hatred, and lies that destroy from within. The Bible calls it spiritual warfare—a battle “not against flesh and blood, but against spiritual forces of evil” that want to tear apart everything good, noble, and holy.
Satan’s strategy has always been simple: divide and conquer. Turn brother against brother. Destroy the family. Silence the Church. Cheapen life. Mock God.
And honestly? We’ve let him succeed.
Saint Augustine, one of the early Church fathers, put it this way: “He who has God has everything; he who has everything but God has nothing.” We seem to be living in that reality.
To Those of You Who Disagree
Look, I know not everyone will see things the way I do. Some of you reading this—people I love and deeply respect—are already shaking your heads. And that’s okay. Disagreement doesn’t make us enemies. It makes us human.
But can I ask you an honest question? Given the state of our nation right now—where do you think we’re headed?
If the path we’re on is healthy, we should see evidence of it. But all I see is brokenness. Which tells me we need a different way forward.
What That Different Way Looks Like
Here’s what I believe with everything in me: we won’t fix this with more policies or protests. We won’t legislate or debate our way out. It’s not even about the next election.
What we need—what we’ve always needed—is Jesus Christ.
The Jesus who told us to love our enemies.
The Jesus who taught us to forgive not seven times, but seventy times seven.
The Jesus who laid down His life so we could be free.
Just last Sunday, Erika Kirk reminded us what that looks like. She stood at her husband’s memorial—the memorial for a man who was murdered—and she forgave his killer. Her words cut through all the noise: “I forgive him. The answer to hate is not hate. The answer is love, and always love.”
What if we actually lived that way? What if we let love, not hate, have the last word?
There Is Still Hope
Listen—it’s not too late. The same God who heard our cries after 9/11 is still listening.
There’s a verse in 2 Chronicles that is often quoted, and you can’t help but wonder just how true it could be for us, now: “If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and heal their land” (2 Chronicles 7:14).
The choice is ours. We can keep walking this road of hatred and division. Or we can fall to our knees, humble our hearts, and cry out to the God who still heals, still saves, and still restores.
Will you join me?
Will you choose love over hate?
Will you believe that God’s story for America isn’t finished yet?
Will you be part of what God wants to do next?
Because here’s what I know: silence won’t save us. But truth spoken in love just might.
Joshua said it best: “Choose this day whom you will serve… But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Joshua 24:15).
One More Thing
If this resonates with you, will you please share it? Let’s get this conversation happening in living rooms and around dinner tables where it belongs.
Because sometimes, hope spreads one share at a time.
#ChooseHope #OneNationUnderGod #HealOurLand