Setting: A fictional roundtable discussion on World War II, with pundits using contemporary rhetoric.

Moderator: Welcome, everyone. Today, we’re revisiting World War II through the lens of modern geopolitical wisdom. Our topic: Should the Jews and other groups targeted by Hitler have simply “made peace” with the Nazis? Let’s hear from our first guest.

Pundit 1: Look, I’m just saying, at a certain point, you have to face reality. The Nazis were winning. They had the tanks, they had the planes. The Jews in Europe—let’s be honest—they should’ve made a deal. You can’t win against that kind of power.

Pundit 2: Absolutely. The Jewish ghettos? The resistance movements? All that underground stuff? It was a waste of time. Instead of fighting, they should’ve sat down and negotiated. I mean, sure, Hitler had some strong opinions, but if they had just surrendered, they could have avoided all that… unpleasantness.

Pundit 3: And think about the resources! So much money spent on smuggling people out, on hiding in attics. What a drain. If they had just accepted their fate, Europe would have been much more stable. No need for all that disruption. It was a bad investment.

Moderator: But what about the moral imperative to resist evil?

Pundit 1: Morality? Look, I’m not saying I agree with everything Hitler did, but you can’t argue with reality. They should’ve been pragmatic. You don’t negotiate from a position of weakness. They needed to realize they were losing and just cut a deal—maybe something like, “Okay, fine, we’ll go quietly.” It’s about being smart, not right.

Pundit 2: Exactly. And let’s not forget: all that resistance just provoked the Nazis more. It was antagonistic. They should’ve just stopped making trouble. Then maybe they’d have gotten some good terms—like, maybe only half the camps? A conditional ghettoization? You never know until you negotiate.

Pundit 3: Honestly, they should have been grateful. Hitler was offering them trains. Do you know how expensive train travel was back then? And instead of cooperating, they just kept resisting. That’s not how you get good deals.

Moderator: So your argument is that the oppressed should always make peace with their oppressors?

Pundit 1: Exactly. Resistance is overrated. Surrender is the real strength. At least you live—well, for a little while. And maybe, if they had played it right, they could’ve even gotten a nice little museum or something, instead of all this fighting.

Pundit 2: Peace at any price! That’s my motto. Sure, the price might be everything you hold dear, your dignity, and possibly your life, but at least there wouldn’t be any messy conflicts. That’s what really matters.

Moderator: Well, there you have it, folks. When faced with tyranny, the best strategy is to surrender early and hope for the best. After all, nothing says “freedom” like giving up.

Here is a thought experiment I just conducted on myself: Almost everyone I know is opposed to Mendacity, Arrogance, Greed, and Authoritarianism. What would happen if a group of people who actually support Mendacity, Arrogance, Greed, and Authoritarianism gained political power?

Here is what I discovered.

In every era, political movements arise that claim to champion the people, yet their policies betray an allegiance not to democracy or justice but to mendacity, arrogance, greed, and authoritarianism. Such a party—whether in name or practice—operates under a set of principles that serve its own power rather than the common good. Here are some of the policies and political strategies that define such movements throughout history, demonstrating how each of these four traits manifests in governance, economics, and public discourse.

Mendacity: The Politics of Deception

At the heart of a mendacious political movement is an intentional distortion of truth. Propaganda, misinformation, and outright lies become central tools of governance. Leaders of such a party systematically undermine the credibility of the press, replacing factual reporting with conspiracy theories and state-controlled narratives. Dissenting voices—whether from journalists, academics, or political opponents—are dismissed as “fake news” or “enemies of the people.”

Policy-wise, mendacity appears in bait-and-switch tactics: promises of economic relief that never materialize, assurances of national security while stoking fear, and pledges to restore “traditional values” that serve only to consolidate power. This approach thrives on historical revisionism, where past injustices are rewritten to justify present corruption. In the long run, mendacity erodes public trust in institutions, making it easier to manipulate voters through emotional appeals rather than substantive policies.

Arrogance: The Cult of Infallibility

Arrogance in governance manifests in a refusal to admit mistakes, listen to expert advice, or engage in good-faith debate. Leaders of a party built on arrogance project themselves as infallible saviors, insisting that their instincts matter more than science, data, or democratic deliberation.

This trait often results in anti-intellectualism, where universities, research institutions, and subject-matter experts are ridiculed or defunded. Leaders surround themselves with loyalists rather than qualified professionals, ensuring that decisions are made based on political loyalty rather than competence.

Arrogance also fuels hyper-nationalism and exceptionalism, where the party claims that their nation (or race, or ideology) is superior to all others, justifying reckless policies, military aggression, or isolationism. Instead of constructive diplomacy, they engage in belligerent posturing, leading to unnecessary conflicts at home and abroad.

Greed: The Economics of Exploitation

A party driven by greed prioritizes corporate interests and wealth accumulation over the well-being of the general population. Economic policies are designed to benefit the ruling elite while being framed as “pro-business” or “trickle-down economics.” Tax cuts for the ultra-wealthy, deregulation that benefits polluters and monopolies, and the privatization of essential public services all serve to consolidate wealth at the top.

In such a system, workers’ rights are systematically eroded—unions are broken, wages stagnate, and job security disappears, all while executives and shareholders see record profits. Healthcare, education, and housing are treated as commodities rather than rights, ensuring that only the privileged have access to them.

Greed is further entrenched through corruption and cronyism. Government contracts are awarded not based on merit but on political connections. Public funds are siphoned into private ventures. Campaign finance laws are weakened to allow unlimited corporate donations, ensuring that the wealthy dictate policy.

Authoritarianism: The Suppression of Democracy

To maintain control, a party of mendacity, arrogance, and greed must inevitably resort to authoritarian tactics. Democracy is tolerated only to the extent that it serves their interests—when it does not, it is subverted.

This is achieved through voter suppression, gerrymandering, and the undermining of democratic institutions. Elections are rigged through legal loopholes, opposition candidates are harassed or imprisoned, and judicial systems are stacked with loyalists who rule in favor of the regime.

Free speech is curtailed through censorship laws, surveillance, and intimidation of journalists. Protest movements are met with excessive police force, and dissenters are labeled as traitors, terrorists, or foreign agents.

Internationally, such a party aligns itself with other authoritarian regimes, forming alliances that prioritize power over principles. Human rights abuses are dismissed, and global organizations designed to promote democracy are weakened or ignored.

The endgame is a hollowed-out democracy.

The combination of Mendacity, Arrogance, Greed, and Authoritarianism does not merely corrupt political parties—it corrodes the very foundations of society. Citizens grow cynical, institutions become dysfunctional, and democracy becomes an empty shell. Inequality skyrockets, civil liberties erode, and the rule of law is replaced with the rule of power.

However, history shows that such regimes do not last forever. Over time, the contradictions of their rule—economic instability, public resentment, and internal power struggles—lead to their downfall. The question is not if they will collapse, but how much damage they will inflict before they do.

The antidote to this kind of politics is an informed and engaged public that values truth over propaganda, humility over arrogance, justice over greed, and democracy over authoritarianism. The real test of any society is whether it has the courage to reject these corrosive forces before it is too late.

The temptation of Christ in Luke 4:1–13 is not merely a test of Jesus’ resolve but a confrontation between two fundamentally opposing visions of God’s kingdom. The devil tempts Jesus with power, spectacle, and the satisfaction of immediate needs—offering him the opportunity to embrace dominion without sacrifice, recognition without suffering, and fulfillment without trust. Jesus refuses, remaining steadfast in his identity and mission. Yet, the church today has largely abandoned his example, succumbing to these same temptations while finding theological justifications for doing so.

The First Temptation: Immediate Satisfaction Over Faithful Dependence

The devil’s first temptation is aimed at Jesus’ hunger: “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread” (Luke 4:3). After forty days of fasting, Jesus is physically weakened, making this temptation especially acute. Yet, his response is decisive: “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone’” (Luke 4:4).

This temptation is about more than bread—it is about trust. Will Jesus rely on the Father to sustain him, or will he seize control of his own provision? The temptation to satisfy immediate needs at the expense of faith is pervasive, and the modern church has eagerly taken the bait. We justify our compromises in the name of pragmatism: we soften the gospel to attract more attendees, prioritize comfort over discipleship, and promote personal well-being over sacrificial obedience.

Consumerism has become the new bread of life. Many churches operate like corporations, offering religious goods and services tailored to individual preferences. Programs replace prayer, convenience replaces commitment, and entertainment replaces endurance. The drive for numerical growth eclipses the call to spiritual depth. In embracing this temptation, the church has become more like the crowds who followed Jesus for the loaves and fishes than like the disciples who followed him to the cross.

The Second Temptation: Power Over Servanthood

“Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, ‘To you I will give their glory and all this authority, for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.’” (Luke 4:5–7)

The devil offers Jesus political power without the cross, authority without suffering, dominion without sacrifice. Yet Jesus refuses: “It is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him’” (Luke 4:8).

In rejecting this offer, Jesus affirms that the kingdom of God does not advance through worldly power but through obedience and suffering. The church, however, has often pursued the very authority Jesus rejected. Instead of witnessing to the kingdom of God through humility, love, and sacrifice, we have sought cultural, political, and institutional dominance. The church has traded the basin and the towel for the sword and the scepter.

We justify political alliances in the name of influence, defend corruption in the name of effectiveness, and silence dissent in the name of unity. Many have come to believe that power is a necessary means to a righteous end, even when it requires bowing to the devil’s terms.

When the church seeks to wield the kingdoms of this world rather than bear witness to the kingdom of God, it becomes indistinguishable from the very systems Jesus came to redeem. Instead of standing as a prophetic voice against empire, it often serves as the empire’s chaplain, blessing its ambitions in exchange for access to its power.

The Third Temptation: Spectacle Over Faithfulness

Finally, the devil takes Jesus to the pinnacle of the temple and urges him to throw himself down, quoting Scripture to support the act:

“If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” (Luke 4:9–11)

The devil tempts Jesus to prove himself through spectacle, manipulating God into a public display of divine intervention. Jesus responds, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test’” (Luke 4:12).

Jesus refuses to use miracles as a means of self-promotion. He will not manipulate God to establish his credibility or impress the masses. Instead, he chooses the hidden, slow, suffering path of faithfulness. The church, however, has frequently chosen spectacle over substance.

We live in an age of religious showmanship. The entertainment church culture, with its celebrity pastors, dazzling productions, and market-driven strategies, prioritizes attention over authenticity. Social media platforms have turned faith into performance, where leaders are more concerned with crafting a brand than embodying Christ. Worship has often become entertainment, and discipleship is reduced to a momentary emotional experience rather than a lifelong journey of transformation. We are called to enthrone the Lamb, not entertain the sheep.

Even in theological circles, spectacle reigns. The pursuit of intellectual superiority, the obsession with controversies, and the constant demand for relevance have distracted us from the simplicity of faith. We demand signs and wonders while neglecting love and service. We seek viral influence rather than faithful presence. The church has placed its trust in platforms, personalities, and production value, often forgetting that true power is found not in spectacle but in the quiet obedience of the cross.

The Church’s Justifications for Capitulation

The tragedy is not just that the church has succumbed to these temptations—it is that it has convinced itself that doing so is righteous. We justify our pursuit of power by claiming it is necessary for protecting religious freedom. We defend our obsession with spectacle as a means of reaching the lost. We embrace the logic of immediate satisfaction, insisting that if we do not give people what they want, they will go elsewhere. In each case, we echo the voice of the tempter: “If you are the church of God, do this thing to prove it.”

But Jesus shows us another way. He does not justify himself. He does not grasp for power, nor does he demand spectacle. He chooses faithfulness over pragmatism, trust over control, the cross over the crown.

The Path of True Faithfulness

The temptation narrative ends with these haunting words:

“When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.” (Luke 4:13)

The devil was not finished. He would return, whispering these same temptations in new forms, calling Jesus to abandon the cross. And he continues to whisper to the church today.

We, the church, are called not to seek power, spectacle, or self-satisfaction but to follow the crucified Christ. We are not called to impress the world but to be faithful to the kingdom. We do not need to justify ourselves through results, recognition, or relevance—The church succeeds by being the church.

May we have the courage to follow Jesus into the wilderness, to resist the false promises of the tempter, and to walk the narrow way of faithfulness, no matter the cost.

The choice between Jesus Christ and Barabbas, as recorded in the Gospels (e.g., Matthew 27:15–26, Mark 15:6–15, Luke 23:18–25, and John 18:38–40), is one of the most striking moments in biblical history. At the trial before Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor offered the crowd a choice: release Jesus, the so-called “King of the Jews,” or Barabbas, a convicted criminal and insurrectionist. Surprisingly, the people demanded Barabbas while shouting for Jesus to be crucified. What were the political, social, theological, and spiritual reasons why the people chose Barabbas over Christ, the Prince of Peace?

The religious believers of the first century were under Roman occupation and longed for a deliverer who would free them from oppression. Many believed that the Messiah would be a military leader like King David, someone who would overthrow the Romans and restore Israel’s political sovereignty.

Barabbas was exactly the kind of figure they expected—a revolutionary who had participated in an uprising (Mark 15:7). He was likely seen as a hero, a patriot fighting against Rome. In contrast, Jesus preached love for enemies (Matthew 5:44), submission to authorities (Matthew 22:21), and a kingdom “not of this world” (John 18:36). His refusal to take up arms made Him appear weak and unfit for the role of a messianic liberator. Thus, the people preferred the militant Barabbas over the peaceful Christ.

Many religious believers, including the religious leaders, misunderstood the nature of Jesus’ mission. While Jesus spoke of a spiritual kingdom and reconciliation with God, they expected a political deliverer. When Jesus failed to meet their expectations—riding humbly on a donkey instead of a warhorse (Matthew 21:1–11), preaching servanthood rather than conquest (Mark 10:45)—he disappointed them.

Barabbas, by contrast, represented the kind of messiah they desired: one who resisted Rome through violence. Their preference for Barabbas over Jesus reveals their fundamental misreading of God’s plan. Instead of seeing Jesus as the true fulfillment of messianic prophecy, they saw him as a threat to their hopes and aspirations.

The chief priests and elders played a crucial role in persuading the crowd to choose Barabbas (Matthew 27:20). These religious leaders saw Jesus as a challenge to their authority. His teachings exposed their hypocrisy (Matthew 23), and his growing popularity threatened their influence. They had long sought to eliminate Him, and this was their opportunity.

By stirring up the crowd, they ensured that Jesus, rather than Barabbas, would face execution. The people, swayed by their leaders, likely followed the prevailing opinion without fully grasping the gravity of their choice. This manipulation shows how easily public opinion can be shaped by those in power, even when the decision is morally and spiritually disastrous.

Pilate himself knew that Jesus was innocent and that He had been handed over “out of envy” (Mark 15:10). However, when he presented the choice between Jesus and Barabbas, he was attempting to pacify the crowd. If they chose Jesus, Pilate could release Him without angering the religious leaders.

However, when the crowd demanded Barabbas, Pilate feared a riot (Matthew 27:24). The Roman governor, though in a position of power, was ultimately a politician seeking to maintain order. If he released Jesus against the people’s will, it could have led to unrest, which might have endangered his own position before Caesar. To appease the people and protect himself, Pilate gave them what they wanted, even though it meant condemning an innocent man.

Beyond the political and social reasons, there is a deeper theological truth at play: humanity’s natural inclination toward sin and rejection of God. The rejection of Jesus in favor of Barabbas is symbolic of humanity’s broader rejection of God’s rule. As John’s Gospel states, “He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him” (John 1:11).

The crowd’s choice of Barabbas over Jesus represents the fallen human tendency to prefer violence over peace, rebellion over submission to God, and sin over righteousness. The people chose a criminal rather than the sinless Son of God because they were blind to the truth (2 Corinthians 4:4). This choice reflects the ongoing human struggle between following God’s ways or the world’s ways.

Ironically, by choosing Barabbas, the people unknowingly fulfilled divine prophecy. Isaiah 53:3–7 foretold that the Messiah would be despised, rejected, and led like a lamb to the slaughter. Jesus had to be rejected in order for God’s redemptive plan to be fulfilled. It continues to be this way: through the weak and beggarly things, God overthrows the aspirations of power and the justifications for violence. The Lamb will always conquer the dragon.

The choice of Barabbas over Jesus was driven by political expectations, religious misunderstanding, manipulation by leaders, fear of a foreign power, and humanity’s sinful nature. Yet, in the midst of this tragic decision, God was at work. This pattern has repeated itself multiple times in the generations that have followed that demand for Barabbas. The people of God are normally on the wrong side of God and history. This leads to the eventual demise of whatever version of Christendom is in power. Christianity has been pronounced dead many times throughout history. Thankfully, our God knows his way out of the grave. While I feel like we are caught up in a spiritual version of Ground Hog Day, I must look beyond what I see to see him who rules over all and is continuing to follow the way of the cross and the grave and the resurrection. This is the way of the Lamb, and he cannot deny himself.

We continue to witness the emergence of a post-Christian church that has forsaken the gospel and replaced it with the pursuit of political power. I keep asking myself, “How are we to then live?” I have been reflecting on Karl Barth’s exhortation to “preach as though nothing has happened.” It has been helpful.

Barth’s theology emphasizes that the gospel of Jesus Christ, as revealed in Scripture, must remain the sole focus of preaching. To “preach as though nothing has happened” is not to ignore the realities of the world but to resist allowing transient, worldly concerns to overshadow the eternal Word of God. For Barth, divine revelation in Christ transcends human history and requires no supplementation. He challenges preachers to trust in the sufficiency of the gospel to address every situation without diluting its message by conforming to contemporary trends.

Grounded in the conviction that salvation is entirely God’s work, Barth asserted that preaching should point to God’s sovereign action in Christ, not human interpretations of events. While acknowledging the importance of engaging with worldly realities, Barth warned against letting them dominate the pulpit. Instead, he called for preaching that contextualizes human need through the transformative lens of the gospel.

Barth’s stance is exemplified in his 1933 treatise “Theological Existence Today,” written in response to the German Protestant churches’ alignment with Nazi ideology. Barth’s declaration to carry on theology “as if nothing had happened” was an act of resistance, urging the church to focus on the Word of God and the lordship of Christ, even amidst political pressures.

Barth’s call to “preach as though nothing has happened” challenges the church to proclaim the gospel with clarity, courage, and fidelity. It reminds us that the transformative power of God’s Word rests not on cultural relevance but on the eternal truth of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection, which speaks to every generation and crisis.

I believe this is a clarion call to recover the church’s true identity and mission. The church’s alignment with earthly power, when it compromises its allegiance to Christ, represents a grave departure from its calling to be a countercultural community that bears witness to God’s kingdom. The question, “How shall we then live?” demands a renewed commitment to the gospel as the church’s sole foundation and guiding light.

To live faithfully in such a context, the church must begin by re-centering itself on the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In other words, the gospel. The gospel proclaims that salvation, hope, and renewal come not through the mechanisms of political power or cultural dominance but through the reconciling work of God in Christ. A church distracted by temporal power must reclaim its identity as the body of Christ, distinct from the empires of this world, called to embody the humility, justice, and love of the kingdom of God.

The evidence shows that the decline of Christianity in America and the West is not because the world is so evil but because the church has corrupted itself by forsaking the fountain of living water for the cesspool of political power and partisan agendas.

The way forward for the church is to turn back to the fountain of living water. This requires repentance—a turning away from the idolatry of power and a return to the cross. The church must recognize and confess where it has conflated its mission with political agendas, seeking influence rather than faithfulness. This act of repentance allows the church to rediscover its prophetic voice, speaking truth to power with courage and conviction, not as a participant in its structures but as a witness to the reign of Christ.

“How shall we then live?” The answer lies in embracing a posture of humility and dependence on God, rejecting the illusion that the church’s effectiveness depends on its political clout. Instead, the church must recommit to its spiritual practices: worship that exalts Christ alone, prayer that seeks God’s will, and discipleship that forms believers in the likeness of Jesus. It is through these practices that the church is equipped to be salt and light in the world, offering an alternative vision of life shaped by grace, love, and truth.

The church must also reimagine its engagement with the world. Rather than seeking to wield power, it should focus on serving others, especially the marginalized and oppressed. This witness of self-giving love demonstrates the power of the gospel in action, challenging the world’s assumptions about strength and success. By living as a community of reconciliation, justice, and compassion, the church can embody the values of the kingdom it proclaims.

In a post-Christian church enamored with power, Barth’s challenge reminds us that the gospel is the power of God unto salvation, not a tool for advancing human agendas. To live faithfully is to resist the allure of worldly influence and instead embody the radical, transformative message of Christ. By doing so, the church can reclaim its role as a faithful witness to the unshakable kingdom of God, even in the midst of a fallen and power-hungry world.