Christianity Has a Lot of Baggage
Beloved, our Christianity is broken, and has been broken all along.
And before you clutch your pearls, let me clarify: it’s not the tenets of Christianity that’s the problem, it’s humanity. It’s when faith gets weaponized, cloaked in robes, trumpeted from pulpits, and all the while betrays the gospel Christians claim to follow.
At some point Christians are going to have to ask themselves: why is our religion so easily co-opted by bad actors?
Why did the Ku Klux Klan choose a burning cross as their trademark terror symbol, even as they claimed some twisted version of Christian heritage? Because symbols matter. The “fiery cross” was taken up in the U.S. by the Klan as an act of intimidation, and though it draws on old Scottish clan symbolism, by the modern era it became an unmistakable tool of racial terror.
Why was one of the first large-scale English slave ships chartered by Queen Elizabeth I named the Jesus of Lübeck—literally “Jesus”—while it carried enslaved Africans in the 1560s?
Why was Africa carved out, plundered, exploited with genocidal precision in the name of “Christian” civilization, or at least alongside it?
And why do so many American evangelicals believe that the total devastation of Palestinian life is necessary for their theological position? (Yeah, Senator Ted Cruz in an interview uttered these words: “Growing up in Sunday school I was taught from the Bible: those who bless Israel will be blessed and those who curse Israel will be cursed. And from my perspective I want to be on the blessing side.”)
Why do mega-churches and prosperity preachers grift millions from our communities in the name of Jesus?
And while we’re at it, why are women still fighting for full equality in pulpits that preach “all are one in Christ Jesus”? Why are queer and trans people—the very image-bearers of God—still treated as theological threats instead of beloved neighbors? Why are Christian nationalists draping crosses in flags and calling it revival when it’s really idolatry?
There is something deeply broken in humanity, and when you overlay that with the massive power of Christian institutions, you get twisted outcomes.
We could take issue with all religion here, sure. But with great power, there should be even greater responsibility. And Christianity holds immense institutional power. Until Christians engage with these questions—honestly, vulnerably, publicly—and at least acknowledge them, our revivals, our campaigns, and our worship services will mean nothing to a world that cannot believe what we say because they see what we do.
Here’s some of what we need to reckon with:
Historical amnesia is a sin. We act like the cross represents only redemption, but when the KKK burned it to terrorize Black Americans, the church was often silent. And when women were told to “submit,” or queer people were told to “repent,” the same silence reigned.
Naming doesn’t save you. A ship named “Jesus” doesn’t make it holy if it traffics humans. A “Christian nation” doesn’t make it righteous if it traffics in hate. The name was sacred, the action was profane.
Prophetic theology requires accountability. If you believe “blessing Israel means we’re blessed,” then you must ask: what about the Palestinians? What about justice, mercy, the stranger, the oppressed? The theology that gets broadcast may be convenient, but is it consistent with the Jesus I follow? For many American evangelicals, support for Israel springs not just from love but from an eschatology that sidelines human suffering in favor of political gain.
Prosperity gospel, patriarchy, and empire mentality are not the gospel of Jesus. When you preach “give and you’ll get rich” while ignoring the systemic poverty, sexism, homophobia, and racism all around, you betray the Jesus movement of the cross—the marginalized, the vulnerable, the crucified.
We must rebuild trust by aligning our lives with our words. The world looks at “Christianity” and sees bombs dropped in its name, land taken in its name, money extracted in its name, women silenced in its name, and LGBTQIA+ people erased in its name. Until we confess that, own it, and change it, words won’t matter.
Christians, our faith is too important to let it be hijacked. Power without accountability becomes tyranny. Religion without self-critique becomes propaganda. Jesus demands a particular kind of living: community, justice, love, deep repair.
At some point Christians are going to have to seriously consider: does what we do match what we say in the name of Christ? Because the world is watching, and they’re far less impressed by our words than they are by our actions.
The gospel will rise or fall not on our clever slogans or revival tours, but on whether we are people of embodied love, justice, and peace.
And if you’re wondering what that looks like, come and see.
At Cathedral of Hope, we are trying to live that better story. We feed hungry people every week without asking who they love or how they vote. We celebrate the holiness of every identity and orientation, because diversity isn’t a problem to fix, it’s a reflection of God’s creativity. We ordain women, affirm queer and trans lives, march for racial justice, and partner with our interfaith neighbors to bring healing where religion has caused harm. We take Jesus seriously enough to live like he meant what he said: love your neighbor, seek justice, welcome the outcast, lift up the brokenhearted.
We are far from perfect, but we’re doing the work of repair, one meal, one protest, one prayer, one act of love at a time.
So yes, the Church is broken. But there are communities still rising from the rubble—refusing to let hate have the final word.
And we are one of them.
Cathedral of Hope: the church that refuses to give up on the gospel—or the world it was meant to save.
