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A Country Pastor, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, Washington D.C., DC (2026)

A simple Jesus-Christian country pastor sharing God’s love from farm life to faith through Jesus’ lens for compassion, justice, & stewardship, guided by God’s unrelenting grace to stand up for the least of thee with Jesus as the forgiving judge, not man❤️

06/04/2026

Corrupting the Word: And the Word Was God
By A Country Pastor

Of all the things that set human beings apart from the rest of creation, perhaps none is more powerful than words. We build relationships with words. We pass wisdom from one generation to the next with words. We teach, encourage, comfort, inspire, and sometimes wound with words. Long before a law is passed, a war is fought, or a nation is formed, words shape how people understand the world around them. A promise can change a life. A lie can destroy one. Words have the power to create trust, spread fear, reveal truth, or conceal it.

That is why one of the oldest forms of corruption is not stealing money or abusing power. It is corrupting words. Once words lose their meaning, people lose their ability to recognize truth. Once truth becomes difficult to recognize, almost anything becomes possible. When words no longer describe reality, reality itself begins to feel uncertain. People no longer know whom to trust, what to believe, or where to stand.

Christians should understand this better than anyone because our faith begins with a remarkable claim. The Gospel of John does not begin with a king, a law, a miracle, or even a manger. It begins with the Word. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1). Before there were governments, political parties, media organizations, nations, or churches, there was the Word. Truth itself was rooted in God. The Word was not merely language. The Word was the very expression of God’s nature.

That is why I find myself increasingly concerned by what is happening in America today. We are not simply arguing about policies, elections, immigration, economics, or religion. We are increasingly fighting over the meaning of words themselves. Truth is being redefined. Freedom is being redefined. Patriotism is being redefined. Justice is being redefined. Even faith is being redefined. The danger is not merely that people disagree. The danger is that the very language we use to understand reality is being manipulated for political, ideological, and religious purposes.

The recent turmoil surrounding 60 Minutes should concern anyone who values truth. The issue is bigger than one television program or one group of journalists. It is about whether facts can still be reported when those facts are inconvenient to people in power. When journalists face pressure for telling the truth, when criticism is treated as disloyalty, and when facts are attacked rather than addressed, something deeper is happening. The goal is no longer to win an argument. The goal becomes controlling the language through which the argument is understood.

History teaches us that authoritarian movements rarely begin by controlling every person. They begin by controlling words. Political observers have spent years examining how Viktor Orbán reshaped Hungary by weakening independent institutions, discrediting critics, and encouraging citizens to trust only approved sources of information. The objective was not always to silence every opposing voice. The objective was to create enough confusion that people no longer knew what was true. A confused people are easier to manipulate than an informed people. A fearful people are easier to control than a confident people.

We have seen similar forces at work in our own nation for decades. Roger Ailes understood the power of shaping language when he helped create Fox News. The same event could be described using different words, different emphasis, and different emotional framing until audiences experienced entirely different realities. Today the problem extends far beyond any single network. Social media, partisan outlets, influencers, politicians, and even foreign actors compete to shape the language through which Americans understand the world. Increasingly, we are not debating facts. We are debating the meaning of the words used to describe the facts.

Yet the deeper danger is not political. It is spiritual.

The corruption of words did not begin in Washington, New York, or on television. It began in the opening pages of Scripture. The serpent’s first weapon was not violence. It was distortion. “Did God really say?” (Genesis 3:1). The first temptation was built around twisting God’s words just enough to create confusion. The attack was not against God’s power. The attack was against God’s truth. Confuse the words and you confuse the people. Distort the truth and people become vulnerable to every deception that follows.

The Bible is filled with examples of people taking God’s words and reshaping them to serve their own interests. Kings used religion to justify power. Religious leaders used Scripture to protect privilege. Entire nations convinced themselves that God approved of what God was actually condemning. By the time Jesus arrived, many people knew the Scriptures by heart while completely missing the heart of God.

Jesus spent much of his ministry confronting those distortions. He challenged leaders who honored God with their lips while their hearts remained far away (Mark 7:6-8). He confronted those who carefully defended traditions while neglecting justice, mercy, and compassion. He exposed the danger of using holy language to justify unholy behavior. Again and again, Jesus called people back to the heart of God’s love.

Yet before we point fingers at politicians, media personalities, preachers, or public figures, we should pause long enough to examine our own hearts. Corrupting words is not something that only happens “out there.” It happens whenever we become more committed to being right than to discovering what is true. It happens whenever we excuse dishonesty because it benefits our side. It happens whenever we condemn lies from our opponents while overlooking the same behavior from our allies. It happens whenever we care more about winning an argument than seeking wisdom.

Many of us are quick to recognize corruption when it comes from the other side. We are less willing to recognize it when it comes from our own side. We notice the falsehoods we dislike while excusing the falsehoods that support our preferred narrative. We criticize propaganda aimed at us while sharing propaganda that benefits our tribe. We condemn those who twist Scripture while quietly twisting it ourselves. That is how corruption spreads. It does not begin with them. It begins when we stop demanding truth from ourselves.

I fear we are seeing this temptation throughout our culture and even within the church. Too many people have become more committed to political narratives than to the teachings of Jesus. We call cruelty strength. We call pride courage. We call fear wisdom. We call exclusion righteousness. We call loyalty to political leaders faithfulness to God. We repeat words so often that we stop examining whether they still reflect the character of Christ.

The prophet Isaiah warned about this long ago. “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness” (Isaiah 5:20). Notice that Isaiah’s warning begins with language. Evil has not changed. Good has not changed. Darkness has not changed. Light has not changed. What changes is what people choose to call them. The corruption begins when we rename reality.

That is why corrupting words is never a small thing. When truth is corrupted, trust is corrupted. When trust is corrupted, relationships are corrupted. When relationships are corrupted, communities are corrupted. Eventually entire nations become divided, suspicious, fearful, and easily manipulated because they no longer share a common understanding of reality.

The danger is not merely that politicians corrupt words. The danger is that we begin repeating those corrupted words ourselves. We begin defending them. We begin building our identities around them. We begin mistaking propaganda for truth and ideology for faith. We begin confusing the voice of our tribe with the voice of God.

As followers of Jesus, we are called to something better. We are called to follow the One who said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). Jesus did not manipulate truth. Jesus embodied truth. His life challenged the lies of empire, the hypocrisy of religion, and the fears that separate people from God and one another. Wherever Jesus went, truth and love traveled together.

The Gospel tells us that “the Word became flesh and lived among us” (John 1:14). Truth became a person. Truth walked dusty roads. Truth sat with sinners. Truth challenged the powerful. Truth comforted the hurting. Truth exposed hypocrisy. Truth loved without fear.

If the Word was God, then corrupting words is not merely a political problem. It is a spiritual one. In a time when so many are attempting to redefine truth, followers of Jesus are called to speak honestly, listen carefully, seek wisdom humbly, and remember that truth does not belong to political parties, media networks, governments, or churches. Truth belongs to God.

The world does not need more people defending tribes. It does not need more people protecting political brands, media personalities, or religious movements. The world needs people courageous enough to follow truth wherever it leads, even when that truth challenges their own assumptions, their own leaders, and their own side. Followers of Jesus should be the first to do so because our allegiance is not to a tribe. Our allegiance is to the One who said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6).

The question before us is not whether we are conservative or liberal, religious or secular, rural or urban. The question is whether we love truth enough to follow it wherever it leads. In an age when words are constantly manipulated, Christians should be among the first to defend honesty, integrity, humility, and truth. The world does not need more people twisting words. The world needs more people willing to speak truth in love, live truth with courage, and remember that in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

06/03/2026

The Sin of Rationalization: Decision, Elections, Ourselves
By A Country Pastor

What if the greatest spiritual danger is not that we do wrong, but that we become so skilled at explaining our wrongdoing that we convince ourselves it is right?

Human beings have an extraordinary ability to explain the world. We can explain almost anything if the outcome is something we already want. We can justify decisions, excuse behavior, overlook contradictions, and reinterpret facts until they fit the story we prefer to believe. Most people do not wake up in the morning planning to do the wrong thing. They wake up believing they are the good guy in the story. The trouble is that once we decide we are right, it becomes surprisingly easy to explain away things we would otherwise know are wrong.

That may be why one of the most dangerous phrases in human history is, “Everybody does it.” Everybody stretches the truth. Everybody cuts corners. Everybody gossips. Everybody bends the rules. Everybody looks the other way. The phrase sounds harmless enough, but it has probably justified more bad decisions than almost any excuse humanity has ever invented. Once we convince ourselves that something is common, we begin treating it as acceptable. We stop asking whether it is right and begin asking whether it is normal.

Out here in the country, most folks know that people can explain almost anything when enough is at stake. I’ve heard people justify staying angry for years, holding grudges against family members, cheating a neighbor out of a few dollars, or refusing to speak to someone over an old disagreement. The details change, but the pattern is always the same. We start with what we want, and then we work backward looking for reasons. Politics did not invent rationalization. Human nature did.

Yesterday’s California primary offered a fascinating example of how rationalization works. Voters looked at many of the same facts and reached very different conclusions. Some saw experience. Others saw the establishment. Some saw change. Others saw risk. California’s top-two system means the election is not even over. Another round of calculation has already begun. Voters will weigh strengths, weaknesses, priorities, and fears. Some will decide a candidate’s flaws are worth accepting because they believe that candidate will accomplish a greater good. Others will reach the opposite conclusion. The names may change, but the process is as old as humanity itself.

Few figures in modern American life illustrate the power of rationalization more clearly than Donald Trump. What fascinates me is not that people support him. People support politicians for all sorts of reasons. What fascinates me is how often Christians who once spoke passionately about character, honesty, humility, fidelity, kindness, and personal responsibility suddenly found reasons to explain away behavior they would have condemned in almost anyone else.

Some pointed to King David. Others pointed to Cyrus. Others reminded us that God uses imperfect people. All of those things are true. The problem is that the Bible never uses those stories to excuse wrongdoing. David’s sin was still sin. Cyrus was still Cyrus. God’s ability to use flawed people has never meant that flaws cease to matter.

Over the years, many Christians have overlooked insults, cruelty, dishonesty, vulgarity, vindictiveness, attacks on opponents, and behavior that would once have troubled them because they believed a greater good was at stake. Perhaps they believed certain policies were more important. Perhaps they feared the alternative. Perhaps they believed he was protecting values they cherished. Whatever the reason, the process itself is worth examining. When we find ourselves excusing behavior in a leader that we would condemn in our neighbor, our political opponents, or even our own children, we should pause and ask whether we are practicing discernment or rationalization.

The question is not whether God can use Donald Trump. God has always used flawed people. The question is whether we are using God to excuse what we would otherwise recognize as wrong. That is a much harder question because it requires us to examine not only the leader but also our own hearts. When Christians begin measuring leaders primarily by what they can accomplish rather than by the fruit they produce, rationalization is already at work. Jesus did not tell us to judge trees by their promises, their victories, or their popularity. Jesus told us to examine their fruit (Matthew 7:16-20).

That is the danger of rationalization. We stop asking what is true and begin asking what supports our side. We stop evaluating everyone by the same standard and begin creating exceptions for those who help us achieve the results we want. The issue is not whether we are Republicans or Democrats. The issue is whether we are willing to examine our own hearts with the same honesty that we examine the faults of others.

The Bible is filled with people doing exactly that. Adam blamed Eve, and Eve blamed the serpent rather than taking responsibility for their choices (Genesis 3:12-13). Israel demanded a king because all the surrounding nations had kings, convincing themselves that following the crowd was wisdom rather than rebellion (1 Samuel 8:5-18). The religious leaders persuaded themselves that sacrificing one innocent man was necessary to preserve the nation (John 11:49-50). Pilate knew Jesus was innocent, yet surrendered to public pressure because it seemed politically expedient (Matthew 27:24). Again and again, people found reasons to justify their choices rather than honestly confront their hearts.

When I read the Bible through the lens of Jesus, I do not see a story about good people and bad people. I see a love story about people repeatedly choosing their own way and God repeatedly calling them back. Again and again humanity chooses power, certainty, fear, revenge, and self-interest. Again and again God calls humanity toward love, mercy, justice, humility, and grace. The Bible is not simply a record of ancient events. It is a mirror showing us the same struggle unfolding in our own hearts today.

That struggle is the conflict between man’s way and God’s way. Man’s way seeks power while God’s way seeks service. Man’s way seeks victory while God’s way seeks reconciliation. Man’s way asks how something can be justified, while God’s way asks whether it is loving. Man’s way asks how to win, while God’s way asks how to remain faithful. The names change, the circumstances change, and the centuries change, but humanity keeps arriving at the same crossroads.

Perhaps the most dangerous form of rationalization is the belief that a greater good excuses a lesser wrong. That was Caiaphas’s argument when he declared it was better for one man to die than for the nation to suffer (John 11:50). It was Pilate’s argument when preserving order seemed more important than justice. It is still our argument today. We convince ourselves that winning is so important, defeating the other side is so important, protecting our interests is so important, that we begin overlooking things we once believed were important. The rationalization is rarely that wrong becomes right. The rationalization is that the greater good outweighs the wrong. Yet Jesus continually pulls us back to a different question. Not what works. Not what wins. Not what advances our cause. But what is loving, just, merciful, and faithful.

When human beings encounter information that challenges what they already believe, they rarely change their minds immediately. More often, they change their explanation. We explain away contradictions. We excuse behavior we would once have condemned. We reinterpret facts to fit the story we already want to be true. The mind is a wonderful gift from God, but it can also become a lawyer defending a verdict it reached long before the evidence arrived.

The people who opposed Jesus did not believe they were opposing God. They believed they were serving God. The religious leaders believed they were protecting the faith. Pilate believed he was preserving order. The crowd believed it was choosing the better man. Saul believed he was defending God’s honor while persecuting Christians (Acts 8:3; 9:1-2). That reality should humble every one of us. The greatest spiritual danger is not that we knowingly choose evil. The greatest spiritual danger is that we convince ourselves that what we have chosen is righteous.

We become so certain that God agrees with us that we stop listening for God’s voice. We become so convinced of our cause that we stop examining our hearts. We become so committed to winning that we stop asking whether we still resemble the Jesus we claim to follow. Being certain is not the same thing as being faithful.

That sentence may be one of the hardest lessons in the Christian life. Being certain is not the same thing as being faithful. The religious leaders were certain. Pilate was certain. The crowd was certain. Saul was certain. Yet all of them stood on one side of the story while Jesus stood on the other. That should make every one of us a little slower to declare that God fully agrees with our politics, our tribe, or our preferred outcome.

That is why Jesus remains our lens for understanding Scripture, faith, politics, and life itself. Jesus welcomed those the crowd rejected. Jesus challenged those who abused power. Jesus taught people to love their enemies (Matthew 5:44). Jesus taught people to treat others as they would want to be treated (Luke 6:31). Jesus revealed that greatness is found in service rather than domination (Mark 10:42-45). Whenever our beliefs, politics, fears, or ambitions pull us away from the example of Jesus, something has gone wrong.

When I read the story of Jesus’ crucifixion, what haunts me most is that almost everyone involved believed they had a reason. The religious leaders had a reason. Pilate had a reason. The crowd had a reason. Yet there stood Jesus, revealing a completely different way. While others justified themselves, Jesus offered grace. While others pursued power, Jesus chose sacrifice. While others demanded victory, Jesus embodied love.

Two thousand years later, we still stand in that same crowd. We still tell ourselves stories. We still justify what benefits us. We still excuse what advances our cause. We still convince ourselves that our tribe, our party, our leader, or our fears deserve exceptions that others do not receive. Human beings have not changed nearly as much as we imagine.

Yet Jesus continues to stand before us asking the same question. Jesus is not asking whether we can win, justify ourselves, or see our side prevail. Jesus is asking whether we will follow him. Human beings will always have reasons. We will always have explanations. We will always have rationalizations. The question has never been whether we have reasons. The question has always been whether we are following Jesus.

Perhaps that is why rationalization is such a dangerous sin. It rarely looks like rebellion. It usually looks like wisdom. It rarely announces itself as self-interest. It often disguises itself as righteousness. It whispers that our cause is so important, our fears so justified, and our goals so necessary that ordinary standards no longer apply. Yet the way of Jesus keeps calling us back to a different path, one marked by truth, humility, mercy, justice, compassion, and love. The question before every generation is the same. Will we follow our rationalizations, or will we follow Jesus? One path tells us what we want to hear. The other tells us the truth. Only one of them leads to life.

06/02/2026

That’s Too Provocative! If Jesus Preached Today, Would We Call Him Provocative?
By A Country Pastor

Jesus was provocative! In our comfort today, I wonder whether we would recognize Jesus if he physically walked into our churches. Not because Jesus has changed, but because we have become so accustomed to protecting our assumptions. Many Christians seem more upset by a question that challenges their beliefs than by an injustice that harms their neighbors, and that observation has been bothering me lately.

We live in a time when the word “provocative” is often used as an insult. If someone challenges accepted thinking, asks uncomfortable questions, or invites us to see the world differently, they are quickly labeled provocative. Yet not all provocations are the same. Some lead us toward fear, resentment, and division. Others lead us toward truth, compassion, growth, and love. That difference is the difference between man’s way and God’s way.

That raises a question I cannot seem to get out of my mind. If Jesus preached today, would we call him provocative?

Recently, James Talarico, a candidate for the U.S. Senate from Texas, drew criticism after describing God as being beyond human categories of male and female. He later explained that his wording was intended to make people stop and think about the limits of human language when describing God. Whether someone agrees with his wording is not really the point. What caught my attention was how quickly some Christians condemned the question itself.

He is not alone. Across the country, pastors, theologians, and Christian leaders who challenge conventional thinking are often attacked by those who mistake certainty for faithfulness. Yet throughout Scripture, God repeatedly speaks through voices that disturb the status quo. The pattern is so common in the Bible that it is almost surprising when we fail to recognize it.

The truth is that God has been doing that from the very beginning. Moses thought he was tending sheep until a burning bush interrupted his plans (Exodus 3:1-4). Jonah thought he knew who deserved mercy until God challenged his assumptions (Jonah 4:1-11). The prophets challenged kings, religious leaders, and entire nations that had grown comfortable with injustice (Amos 5:21-24). Again and again, God disrupted ordinary thinking so people could see a larger truth.

Then Jesus arrived, and the challenges became even more direct. Jesus touched lepers when respectable people would not (Mark 1:40-42). Jesus spoke with women when culture told him not to (John 4:7-26). Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners while religious leaders complained (Luke 5:29-32). Jesus healed on the Sabbath (Mark 3:1-6). Jesus overturned tables in the temple (Matthew 21:12-13). Nearly everything Jesus did challenged someone’s understanding of how God was supposed to work.

What I find fascinating is that Jesus himself challenged people’s assumptions about God. Jesus taught his followers to pray, “Our Father” (Matthew 6:9), yet he also used images that reflected qualities people often associate with mothers and women. Jesus compared God’s searching love to a woman looking for a lost coin (Luke 15:8-10). Jesus compared his own desire to gather and protect people to a mother hen gathering her chicks beneath her wings (Matthew 23:37). Again and again, Jesus pointed beyond simple categories toward a God who is larger than our descriptions, larger than our assumptions, and larger than the boxes we build.

Perhaps we forget just how provocative Jesus really was. Jesus did not simply comfort people. Jesus challenged them. Jesus said things that sounded impossible, unreasonable, and even outrageous. Love your enemies (Matthew 5:44). Pray for those who persecute you (Matthew 5:44). The last will be first (Matthew 20:16). Blessed are the poor (Luke 6:20). A Samaritan is the hero (Luke 10:25-37). A rich man should give away his wealth (Mark 10:21-25). If we heard some of those teachings for the first time today, many of us might call them unrealistic, radical, or provocative.

Nobody crucified Jesus for being boring. Nobody crucified Jesus because he carefully avoided controversy. Jesus was executed because he challenged systems that kept powerful people comfortable and exposed the distance between religious appearances and genuine love. The Gospel was disruptive then, and it remains disruptive now.

The people who change the world rarely leave everything as it is. The abolitionists challenged slavery. The suffragists challenged the exclusion of women. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. challenged segregation and injustice. Progress often begins when someone is willing to challenge what everyone else has accepted as normal.

When people wanted judgment, Jesus offered mercy (John 8:1-11). When people wanted power, Jesus spoke of service (Mark 10:42-45). When people wanted to draw smaller circles, Jesus drew larger ones (Luke 10:25-37). The provocation was not the goal. Transformation was the goal.

Not every leader uses provocation the way Jesus did. Some leaders have discovered that fear is powerful. Anger is powerful. Resentment is powerful. If you can convince people that someone else is responsible for their problems, you can gain their loyalty without ever helping them grow.

We see that pattern throughout history, and we see it in our own time. Donald Trump, Ken Paxton, and many others understand the power of provocative language. The difference is that Jesus used provocation to challenge people to love more deeply, while many modern leaders use provocation to persuade people to fear more deeply.

Jesus provoked people toward love. Man provokes people toward fear.

Jesus challenged people to examine themselves. Man’s way encourages people to blame others. Jesus challenged people to love their enemies. Man’s way encourages people to fear them. Jesus challenged people to serve. Man’s way encourages people to dominate. Jesus challenged people to expand the circle. Man’s way often profits by shrinking it.

When Jesus spoke shocking words, the goal was to break down walls. When man speaks shocking words, the goal is often to build them. Jesus used provocation to help people see the image of God in others. Man often uses provocation to convince people that others are threats to be feared.

Both approaches can fill arenas. Both can create loyal followers. Both can dominate conversations. But they lead to very different destinations. One leads toward the kingdom of God. The other leads toward the kingdoms of man.

That is why I am less interested in whether a statement is provocative and more interested in what it produces. Jesus said we would know a tree by its fruit (Matthew 7:16-20). Does it make us more loving or more fearful? More compassionate or more suspicious? More humble or more self-righteous? More like Jesus or more like the world around us?

Love expands the circle. Fear shrinks it.

That may be one of the simplest ways to tell the difference between God’s way and man’s way.

What concerns me is that many Christians seem more disturbed when someone challenges a category than when someone ignores the teachings of Jesus. We can spend days arguing over a phrase while children go hungry (Matthew 25:35), the poor are neglected (Isaiah 58:6-7), strangers are treated with suspicion instead of welcome (Leviticus 19:34), and enemies are hated instead of loved (Matthew 5:44). Sometimes the things that upset us most reveal more about our priorities than the statement that upset us.

Jesus constantly challenged people to look deeper. Jesus exposed assumptions. Jesus questioned certainty. Jesus invited people beyond easy answers and into lives shaped by humility, compassion, mercy, and love. Jesus was not trying to win arguments. Jesus was trying to change hearts.

Faith has never been about protecting every assumption from examination. Faith grows when we are willing to wrestle honestly with God and with ourselves. Out here in the country, I have learned that God is usually bigger than the boxes we build. Bigger than our politics. Bigger than our traditions. Bigger than our fears. Bigger than our certainty. The God revealed through Jesus consistently surprised people who thought they had God figured out, and I suspect God still does.

Maybe that is why Jesus remains so compelling. And maybe that is why Jesus remains so dangerous. Not because Jesus told people what they wanted to hear, but because Jesus kept inviting people to see beyond what they thought they already knew.

The question is not whether Jesus was provocative. Jesus was. The question is whether we are still willing to let the Gospel provoke us toward greater love.

Because Jesus provoked people toward love, mercy, compassion, justice, forgiveness, and reconciliation. Man’s way provokes people toward fear, resentment, division, and power. Every day we must decide which voice we will follow.

Because every time God truly changes the world, God first changes the way people see it.

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