The headlines blare. Notifications ping. Chaos everywhere.
It feels like end-times sirens are going off, and no one is asking why. Fear in the streets. Panic in the air. And me, caught between caring too much and pretending I do not, between worrying about the moves of men and remembering the sovereignty of God.
But then I remind myself: He is not coming back tomorrow just to get us out of this.
He did not return during smallpox, the Trail of Tears, slavery, or the Civil War. Not during the Black Plague, the Holocaust, Hiroshima, 9/11, or even COVID-19.
So why now, when one man dies, do we suddenly think He is coming back? Why cry for “revival in America” as if one life matters more than the millions lost every day?
Yes, what happened was wrong. But should that have been your wake-up call? Meanwhile, others wake up fearing they might not make it home. The system, the hate, the power—that is the real danger.
Children dying by gunfire. Women, immigrants, the vulnerable…dying because of hate. People killed for simply existing. And yet, the ones you call “just conservative Christians spreading the gospel” are often the same voices fueling that hate. You do not feel it because it is not you.
If your compassion only extends to those who share your politics or your version of Jesus, then where is your gospel when the poor cannot afford housing, healthcare, or education? If you do not believe everyone deserves those things, then we are not standing on the same cross.
Isaiah 53:2 says, “He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him.” Jesus looked more like the man on the corner than the celebrity pastor on your stage. So, ask yourself: if you did not know His name, would you have even stopped to help Him?
Micah 6:8 says, “Act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly.” John 13:35 says, “By this everyone will know you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
So no, we do not get to shrug and say, “God will work it out.” He is sovereign, but He also called us to act.
The gospel is not comfortable or convenient. It is radical love, messy action, and faith that runs toward the broken, not away. Maybe the sirens are not warning that the world is ending. Maybe they are warning that the church is asleep. And that should wake us up more than any headline ever could.
