Now What?

So if Covid didn’t wake you up, yesterday probably did. Now you’re asking: What do we do? How do we take action? Good questions. I’ve got a couple of thoughts. But first…

Am I angry? Yes—I’m furious. And that is the only sane response when a young father, husband, and advocate for truth is gunned down before a crowd of laughing hyenas. Why was this bright light snuffed out? Because he calmly and warmly exposed the lies and degeneracy of the godless life with reason and clarity. Hell has no fury like a pervert confronted with his own perversions.

When the truth forces a man to see reality, he has only two choices: repentance or rage. The shame of sin is so raw that it can only produce thankful repentance or murderous hatred. For those who love their corruption, every word of truth feels like violence. That’s how twisted they’ve become.

We don’t yet know the shooter’s name. But we saw the crowd. We saw the cackling monsters, in person and online, who felt relief in seeing the source of their conviction silenced. And now, drunk on their glee, they’re looking for the next man—or men—to muzzle. They’re making lists openly on BlueSky and X.

This is not an isolated event. It is the rotten fruit of a culture we’ve allowed to take root in our country—a culture that must be named, resisted, and driven out.

It’s far beyond the scope of this short article to trace every source that brought us to this moment. They are many and complex. But as a pastor, I want to name a few before moving on to next steps.

First: if any place should be a storehouse of truth, it is the church. We were once in darkness, but now in Christ we see the light. In Him are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. The church should stand like a strong tower, with a beacon shining from the top—calling out, “Flee the darkness and lies, come and find shelter and strength under the roof of truth.”

Pastors should thunder the truth without equivocation, without the cowardly hedge of “nuance,” with a willingness to upset anyone who has made peace with sin and lies. That is what the church should be. She should be filled with men who love people enough to offend them; men who speak hard words in plain speech; men who refuse to let their hearers slip quietly out the back door, but instead hold up the mirror of God’s Word and declare, “This is who you are without Christ. This is what the world is without Christ. Repent, and go, and sin no more.”

That is the church’s calling. She is to be the place where believers are nourished on the pure milk of the Word, and trained to bring it to bear in every sector of life and society. She is to be the place where people learn to love what God loves, and to make no provision for the flesh. The church is to be God’s megaphone of truth, and at the same time the dinner table of the family of God, set with Word and Sacrament.

The church in America doesn’t carry the reputation of a fortress of truth. Instead, it’s seen as being run by a managerial class of men who couldn’t cut it in business or politics. Or worse, by socially awkward eggheads with no clue—or no will—on how to bring our glorious theology down into the grit of everyday life.

Too often the pulpits are filled with strivers and ladder-climbers, men desperate to be a big deal. And being a big deal means not upsetting anyone. It means going soft on a false teacher because, after all, he was your senior pastor’s roommate at seminary—never mind that he’s now a flaming liberal and a sellout.

This is the leadership of much of the church. Not every church, but enough of them that the reputation sticks. And so the church is seen, not as a pride of lions, but as a carpeted room for house cats. And sadly, the reputation is well earned.

Beyond these leadership failures, the message of many churches—yes, even Reformed ones—is carefully massaged so as not to offend the moderates or liberals in the pews. A pastor may thunder loudly about the sovereignty of God in salvation, and he should. But does he have the courage to tell women that, apart from loving God, their highest calling is normally found in marriage, childbearing, and raising the next generation in moral and spiritual excellence? Probably not. If he did, he might offend his friend whose nearly forty-year-old daughter is working on her second MBA.

A pastor may wax eloquent about the glories of biblical polity, its scriptural foundation, and its historical pedigree. But does he have the guts to actually call out vow-breakers for obvious vow-breaking—and refuse to hide behind a false appeal to “due process”? Again, probably not.

Where are the men who will speak truth with compassion but without mealy-mouthed caveats? Where are the men willing to preach a message that sounds unreasonable to a world marching to the beat of its own drum? They are few.

So yes—one of the main culprits is an anemic, compromised church. A church full of cats meowing when it should be lions roaring. There’s much more that could be said, but this takes us to the next steps.

So what do we do now?

First, stay angry—but don’t sin.

Anger is the natural reaction when you see evil. And when it’s guided by truth, it makes you angry at lies and the works of darkness. That’s good. Don’t silence it. We should be angry. But we can’t let it carry us into actions that contradict God’s Word. Some will hear that as a moderating voice. It isn’t. It’s a regulating voice. God’s truth regulates our anger. And sometimes what obedience demands won’t look moderate at all. So keep your head. Stay awake. Refuse to be controlled by raw emotion, but harness it toward righteousness.

Second, get into a faithful church.

If you’re not in a church that boldly speaks the truth, find one. Do what it takes. Look for a church committed to the foundational doctrines of Scripture and willing to speak directly into the issues of the day. Here are some simple tests:

• If they won’t confront feminism or preach the joy of fruitful family life, it’s probably not the right church.

• If they insist on being politically “neutral,” discouraging all political talk, it’s probably not the right church.

Yes, you may have to compromise on some secondary doctrines. But if the primary doctrines are sound, those will, over time, knock over the dominoes of the secondary issues.

I know these churches are hard to find. That’s why I’ve helped plant three already, and I hope to plant twelve more before I’m done. Next April we’re launching our Everyday Pastor Conference to strengthen faithful men, especially the younger pastors. Do what you can where you are. Be strategic. Be thoughtful. Make the moves you need to make.

Third, get rooted on a worthwhile and winnable hill.

Six years ago, we left South Carolina and moved back to Cincinnati with a clear goal: to plant a church in the county seat of one of the surrounding, non-urban counties. We wanted to be close enough to an economy that could provide jobs for our family and future congregants, but with a cost of living that could sustain young families. Just as importantly, we didn’t want to be swallowed up by liberal rot. We wanted a place that wasn’t fully gone, where we could join in with the good already happening and then build a wall around it—metaphorically speaking—to keep out the destructive forces tearing down this nation.

Our plan was simple: establish a beachhead of influence and then expand step by step. Pour gasoline on what is good. Pour water on what is bad. Encourage local, like-minded churches. Support community developments that build healthy, productive households. Teach our people to get involved in local life—politics, schools, businesses, neighborhoods—as salt and light. And by God’s grace, five years into that project, we’ve made a lot of ground.

That’s what you need to do. Find a place like that. Find a people you can work with. You can’t run from this fight; there’s no mountain hideaway that will save you. That’s cowardice. Instead, find a place where you can establish a defensible cultural position. Work for its peace. Work for its purity. Work for its prosperity. And then invite other like-minded people into that work.

What counts as “worthwhile” will depend on your capacity. Maybe it’s a small town. Maybe it’s a bigger arena. The point is to put down roots and labor for the long term. You’ve got to start somewhere. We started in Batavia, with our eyes set on all of Clermont County. And even here, there are plenty of Christians and plenty of churches chasing the same vision, even if they use different words.

Fourth: once you’ve got your church and your winnable hill—dig in and fortify.
Get your money right. Buy land. Root yourself. Then sink your life into that place and its people. You’re not building a getaway cabin, you’re building a fortress. A stronghold of normality. A beachhead of sanity in a collapsing culture. Stabilize your family so you can actually fight. A man scrambling to keep his kids fed and housed is always on the defensive; he can’t wage war. That’s why you need stability. It gives you ground to strike from. And it takes time—decades of slow, patient work. But without that long vision, you’ll stay weak and vulnerable.

Fifth: drive out the rot.

Stop pretending compromise can live side by side with truth. Build such unity in your community that any politician who tries to sell out to liberal dogma knows it will end his career. Make it plain that the Antifa and BLM crowd won’t find a home here—they’ll be driven out. We need men who don’t tremble at the shrieks of anti-Christian mobs, men who care about righteousness and law, not about appeasing vandals and degenerates. And if you can’t find those men to vote for, then step up and become those men yourself. We’re not playing at “nice neighborhoods.” We’re talking about sanctuary counties for Christian families—safe from the violent, the deranged, and the godless.

Lastly: stop bowing to the old guard.

This week I called out a PCA church for rank compromise, and immediately got texts saying, “Glad you did, but aren’t you afraid that’ll keep you out of the PCA?” If that’s true, then it condemns them, not me. If a denomination is so shot through with politics and cowardice that it punishes men for calling out open rebellion against Scripture, then let it die. I’ll reclaim institutions where I can, I’ll join the good work where I can—but I will not kiss rings or blunt my blade to gain favor. Dull blades and double talk are what landed us in this mess. Only the sharp swing of God’s Word will cut us out of it.

These are only first steps, but without them you’ll collapse the moment unrest grows teeth. What we need is not another vague “Christian America” nostalgia, but a distinctly American Christianity—the same way Corinth needed a Corinthian Christianity and Colossae needed a Colossian Christianity. We need pastors who love this nation enough to call her to repentance where she rebels against God. We are in a battle for her soul.

So stay angry. Stay awake. Keep your hand on the plow and your sword sharp. If we commit to building these fortresses of faith and family, we can plant the seeds of real, lasting change.