But That Means YOU

But That Means YOU

Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.

— From Matthew 5

This verse is quoted often. But seldom obeyed.

On this Independence Day, in the thick of a bitter culture war, I want to say something plainly:

If you're a follower of Jesus, and you’re still dodging this verse—this one right here—then maybe it’s time to stop hiding behind theology, and start living the Gospel.

I know a man—high-ranking in Christian academia. A molder of young minds. Once a proud conservative. Today, his voice is hardened by a hatred he won’t admit.

He says, “I don’t hate Trump. I love him—but he’s unfit to be president.”

But what follows is mockery, bitterness, and a familiar drumbeat of rage.
He throws out lines like, “Trump is almost as bad as Hitler.”

So, trying to inject a little levity—and maybe open a door—we toss him a softball:
“Okay, then give us one example of something positive about Trump that makes him slightly better than Hitler.”

Crickets. Nothing. Not even a half-hearted attempt.
It’s as if acknowledging any good might cause the whole moral scaffolding to collapse.

We’ve tried to reason with him. Pleaded, gently, that he practice the humility he used to teach. We’ve modeled it ourselves: admitted our own flaws, our own blind spots. But it's like we don’t exist. The conversation slips past him like we’re ghosts.

And this man? He’s not a troll. He’s not a pundit.
He’s a teacher of the Gospel. A role model. A voice young people are supposed to trust.

Shouldn’t he be embodying Paul's words?

“Love believes all things.”
“To the Romans, I became as a Roman.”
“Be patient in affliction. Rejoice in hope.”

And above all, Jesus’ final prayer—“That they may be one, Father, as you and I are one.”

But he will have none of it.

And here’s why I bring it up:

We’re quick to call out hatred from the MAGA side—and sometimes rightly so.
But somehow, we’ve convinced ourselves that mocking them back is prophetic. Or just. Or holy.
We mock their accents. Their signs. Their churches. We call it “truth-telling.” But it's just the same sin, dressed up in fancier clothes.

Why is this not seen as a test of godly love by more evangelicals?

Jesus didn’t say “Love those who persecute others.”
He said, “Pray for those who persecute you.”

Not your group. Not your demographic.
You.

So this isn’t about Trump. It’s not about Biden. It’s not about red or blue.

It’s about your own soul.

Can you love the one whose politics disgust you?
Can you pray—really pray—for the one who makes your teeth clench?

You don’t need a platform. You don’t need cultural permission.

You just need to obey.
Start where Jesus started:
Love. Your. Enemy.

Even the one in your family.
Even the one on your feed.
Even the one in your own reflection.