The political climate in America is chilling. The Stars and Stripes find themselves embroiled in animosity, tribalism, and social collapse. For decades, commentators have warned that tyranny, state overreach, and censorship would corrode democratic life. As a pastor and political scientist, I want to reveal a darker, more sinister plot: affective polarization. We don’t just disagree, we dehumanize. There is a deep cruelty we have normalized in our discourse, like a cancer spreading through our political, social, and academic institutions. 

This month, I was having coffee with someone from church. She mentioned during our conversation that she was working with the Young Republicans Club in Sacramento. As the words echoed from our table, a man who was walking by overheard and began making a gagging gesture, shoving his finger down his throat. It was indicative of a culture that responds to every disagreement with contempt and disgust. 

As a minister with political opinions, I have witnessed the chasm in human decency. A day does not go by that I do not have to delete comments on my social media accounts calling me a fascist, bigot, extremist, Nazi, and other expletives I will omit for your sake. I’ve been chased to my car. I’ve received death threats and anonymous midnight calls. I’ve had people wish me dead of a terrible disease. 

I’m too young to remember it clearly, but there was a time when the American political environment was more charitable. We could argue, debate policy, disagree strongly, and then share a meal. That era now feels distant and almost implausible. We have reduced people to how they vote, as if politics determines whether someone is worthy of dignity and respect. We have turned neighbors into stereotypes and coworkers into enemies. Politics has become our identity, where disagreements are no longer about ideas but about worth.

I’m devastated by the malice and cruelty that now dominate political discourse in America. Rage is the currency of our dialogue, and we are ruled by an insatiable need to blame, shame, and name. Democrats caricature Republicans as indifferent to the poor, hostile to migrants, and eager to oppress LGBT Americans. Republicans treat Democrats as people who aim to indoctrinate children, purge religion, and sexualize everyone. Maybe some of that is true in the fringe, dark caves of each community, but I don’t think that is true for the vast majority of Americans. 

As a young boy, I learned something that feels lost; that disagreement does not have to become degradation. I was a resolute young suburban conservative, and my grandmother was a Bay Area liberal. We loved to debate politics. I was always certain I was right. I had to be. I carried all the confidence of youth, and maybe a little self-righteous indignation too. What 12-year-old doesn’t think he is always right, right? One moment comes back to me with unusual clarity. We were at the Carmel Mission, and as we passed a man outside who was homeless, I reached for an easy explanation and said with misplaced certainty that homeless people should just get jobs. I half-expected a lecture. I was ready for a fight. But, to my surprise, my grandmother stayed calm and present. There was no shame. She did something far more disarming: she asked questions. Not the kind to demean me, but the kind to understand me. To see me. “How do you think Jesus sees that man?” “What do you imagine his story is?” She refused to reduce her grandson to a stereotype, and she would not let me reduce that man to one either. In that moment, she was not trying to win an argument. She was trying to form a person. She helped me see the person behind the politics. I realized I had reduced a man to a talking point. My grandmother demonstrated the kind of love that says, “I can challenge your ideas and still protect your dignity.” 

When will we return to a culture that debates ideas without degrading people? When will we recover the discipline to recognize the humanity of those we oppose? When will we stop rewarding volume over substance? Zero-sum politics does not just divide us, it deforms us. It poisons the conscience and normalizes contempt. I’m a conservative pastor who holds political opinions. In some circles, that alone is treated as a diagnosis. But it’s not a pathology, it’s a sign that I’m human. 

• I’m for strong borders. But I also believe we should treat every person with dignity and respect, regardless of immigration status.
• I believe the Christian ethic has a voice in the public square, not as a weapon, but as a moral compass shaped by love of God and love of neighbor.
• I believe in the importance of social institutions and political engagement, but I do not worship political leaders or parties. 
• I am fiercely prolife, but I also understand the deeply emotional and complicated reality many women face when they carry an unintended pregnancy.
• I support law enforcement, but I also believe accountability and transparency matter.
• I believe in parental sovereignty, but I also believe in institutions that protect children from abuse and neglect. 

‍

For some of us, this elicits anger, fear, and contempt. But instead of asking questions or seeking to understand, we resort to moral condemnation and mockery. But there is a better way, friend. I believe the vast majority of Americans are decent people who want their families to be safe, their communities to be stable, and their neighbors to be treated fairly. But we have allowed cognitive shortcuts, tribalism, and rage to dominate and colonize every conversation about morality, religion, and politics. It is tearing us apart. 

I keep coming back to Paul's warning: "Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God… For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood…" (Ephesians 6:10-12, ESV). We are not wrestling with flesh and blood, so we cannot treat flesh and blood like the enemy.

Make no mistake, we should be unapologetic about our convictions. Persuade your fellow man. Speak the truth. Pursue justice. Vote. Fight fervently against institutions and voices that promote atrocious policies. But fear the false god of rage and politics, for it will always ask you to sacrifice your decency and your conscience on its altars. We have to return to a radical Imago Dei way of life, where every person we see is someone of worth, not because they vote like we do, but because a divine Creator formed them in His image.

We can do better. We have to. America has slipped into a dark hour. But in the words of Dylan Thomas, "Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light."