More Than This

Something is broken.

You can feel it. You don’t need a news alert or a political commentator to tell you. You feel it at the dinner table when certain topics are completely off limits. You feel it scrolling through your phone at 11pm watching people tear each other apart over things that wouldn’t have mattered five years ago. You feel it in the slow realization that some friendships are just… gone. Not ended in a conversation. Just quietly evaporated under the weight of a world that demands you pick a side and stay there.

We have replaced conversation with accusation. Love with hatred. Unity with uniformity.

And it is exhausting.

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We are living in a moment where you can be vilified for having a different opinion. Where entertaining an idea that doesn’t match the approved narrative gets you labeled, dismissed, cancelled. Where the person across the aisle isn’t a neighbor with a different view. They’re an enemy to be defeated. Where fear drives everything and nobody wants to admit it.

We’ve stopped talking to each other. Really talking. The kind of conversation where you sit across from someone, look them in the eye, and actually try to understand what’s going on inside them. We’ve traded that for comment sections and outrage cycles and the dopamine hit of being righteously angry at someone we’ve never met.

I want to say something that nobody on cable news is going to say.

This isn’t a political problem. This is a soul problem.

You cannot legislate your way out of hatred. You cannot vote your way into peace. You cannot find genuine unity in uniformity. In demanding that everyone around you think, speak, and believe exactly what you believe. That’s not unity. That’s control. And we’ve been mistaking one for the other for a long time now.

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If you look at all of this and something in you says there has to be more than this you’re right.

That longing isn’t weakness. It isn’t naivety. It’s the sound of a soul that was built for something this world cannot give it. The hunger for real connection, for actual peace, for a life that means something beyond the next news cycle. That’s not idealism. That’s a compass. And it’s pointing somewhere.

You were not made for this.

Not for the hatred. Not for the tribalism. Not for the performance of outrage. Not for the slow erosion of your humanity that happens when you spend your days consuming content designed to make you afraid and angry. You were made for something deeper than that. Something more life-giving. Something that actually holds up when the world is spinning out of control.

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What if I told you the answer isn’t a political movement? What if it’s not the right candidate or the right party or the right policy? What if the thing this world is desperately missing isn’t a better argument? What if it’s a different kind of life altogether?

I’m talking about faith. Not the institutional, show-up-on-Sunday, check-the-box version that a lot of people have already walked away from. Not Christianity as a cultural identity or a political tribe. I’m talking about a life actually lived in Jesus. A real relationship with a real God who entered a broken world not to take political power but to flip the whole script on what power even means.

Jesus didn’t build a platform. He built a table. He didn’t dehumanize his enemies. He ate with them. He didn’t demand uniformity. He called people from every corner of the social spectrum and sat them down together and said this is what love actually looks like.

That’s not a religious program. That’s a revolution. A quiet one. The kind that starts inside a person and changes the room they walk into.

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The world is going to keep doing what the world does. The hatred isn’t going to pause. The noise isn’t going to quiet down on its own. The tribal warfare is going to keep burning because it runs on outrage and outrage is inexhaustible.

But you don’t have to be shaped by it.

You were made for more than scrolling through the wreckage at midnight wondering if any of this is going to be okay. You were made for a life that has roots deep enough that the storms don’t take you out. For relationships built on something more durable than shared political anger. For a peace that doesn’t depend on the news cycle going your way.

That’s not a fantasy. That’s what Jesus actually offers. Not a better political outcome. Not a more comfortable life. A different kind of life entirely. A life where your identity isn’t determined by who you’re against, but by who you belong to.

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If you’re tired, really tired, of the version of the world you’ve been living in, I want to invite you to something different.

Not to a church program. Not to a set of rules. Not to a political coalition with a cross stamped on it.

To a person.

Jesus said the two greatest things you could do with your life are love God and love the people around you. Not just the ones who agree with you. Not just the ones who look like you or vote like you or see the world the way you see it. The ones across the table. The ones across the aisle. The ones who make it hard.

That’s the life he modeled. That’s the life he calls us to. And it is the only answer I know of to the world we’re all living in right now. It’s the only answer for a world that is starving for exactly that kind of love and has no idea where to find it.

Friend, you can find it. It finds you, actually. If you let it.

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The world you’re watching right now with all of the hatred, the division, the exhaustion is real. I’m not going to tell you it isn’t. But it is not the end of the story. It is not the truest thing about human existence. And it is not what you were made for.

You were made for more than this.

And I will gladly help you find it.