When Faith and Power Collide

When Faith and Power Collide

On July 4th, we celebrate liberty. Fireworks, flags, and freedom memes fill the feed.
But somewhere along the way, “liberty” got a PR team—and “God” got an endorsement deal.

When nationalism and religion start dating, liberty isn’t shared.
It’s assigned.

Lately, I’ve had this slow kind of fear—not the lightning-strike kind that jolts your body, but the quiet, hum-in-the-background kind that stays with you.
It hums through headlines, political rallies, and Sunday sermons that sound more like campaign speeches.
It gets louder when people in power talk like prophets.

A Warning From History

I’ve been reading about Germany in the 1930s—not just Hitler, but the clergy who stood beside him. The pastors who wrapped their faith around nationalism, thinking they were protecting what was sacred.

Most didn’t wake up one morning and decide to support fascism.
They were slowly sold a familiar story:
restore the nation, protect the family, defend religion, punish the corrupt.
And by the time they realized what they’d enabled, the machine was already running.

That’s what scares me most—how reasonable it can sound when fear is dressed as faith.

Because I’m starting to hear that same soundtrack again.

Leaders claiming that Christianity belongs at the center of American government.
“God and country” used like a team slogan instead of a moral compass.
Policies that strip autonomy from women, immigrants, queer people, anyone outside the “ideal citizen” frame—and all of it wrapped in scripture like it’s mercy.

This isn’t religion as a personal journey.
It’s religion as branding.
Faith as weapon.

And just like before, the line between patriotism and worship is being blurred—on purpose.

If they can convince you that their political enemies are also enemies of God,
they can sanctify cruelty.
They can make obedience look holy.
They can make you believe that silence is loyalty.

So What Do We Do With That?

We name it.
Out loud.

We stop treating this like a polite disagreement and start calling it what it is:
Authoritarianism dressed in scripture.
White supremacy wrapped in worship music.
Policy that punishes while preaching compassion.

We don’t have to scream—but we do have to speak.
We challenge the dehumanizing posts.
We call out the politicians and preachers who sell fear as holiness.
We refuse to let “faith” become a brand that excuses harm.

And we show up.
Not just when it’s personal—when it’s everyone.

At protests.
At school boards.
At vigils.
Anywhere power forgets empathy.

Because silence isn’t neutral—it’s endorsement in lowercase.

If You Still Have Faith, Let It Be Loud

If you’re a person of faith, let your kindness be louder than your doctrine.
Let your mercy speak louder than your membership.

Don’t do it in the name of religion.
Do it in the name of love.

That’s when belief becomes beautiful again.
Because religion without compassion is just a club.
And we’ve already seen what happens when clubs get power and forget their humanity.

Stay curious.
Stay human.
And always—be kind.