TGIF

by: The Missing Miles – Jeremy Brady Photography

Yesterday, we spent the day getting ready to evacuate our home because of a wildfire that was too close to ignore.

There wasn’t an evacuation notice…yet

For me, this meant loading the car with everything the cats would need should we have to leave.

Cat food, litter box, cat litter, water, and cat carriers were all put within easy reach. I packed some extras in case we ran into people who needed some litter or food.

My own “go bag” was ready…first aid kit, chargers, prescriptions and other necessities were in my back pack and ready to go.

Overnight, the fire burned in a direction away from us…we’re still here, but we’re ready to go elsewhere.

For the past 25 years, I’ve been trying to prepare myself and others for the catastrophe that would overtake the church if it continued to prop up authoritarian leaders in the pulpit…and otherwise.

Now, the smoke is so thick it’s choking us and I see flames cresting the ridge.

Donald Trump may have been the primary arsonist, but he was working with tons of dry fuel and aided by people who wanted to see things burn.

Trump is no different than any narcissistic pastor we have ever exposed. They were prototypes of the same kind of leader: men who learned to turn fear into loyalty, grievance into identity, and unquestioning obedience into a test of faith.

For years, we warned about pastors who demanded submission while refusing accountability; who claimed divine authority for their own preferences; who treated criticism as rebellion; and who used the name of Jesus to build platforms for themselves. Too often, churches called that strength. Too often, congregations called it courage. Too often, the wounded were told that their pain was the cost of protecting the “anointed.”

Those habits did not stay inside church walls. They prepared people to embrace a political leader who offered the same bargain: give me your loyalty, excuse my cruelty, repeat my claims, and I will protect you from the enemies I have taught you to fear.
That is not discipleship. It is captivity.

The tragedy is that many Christians have confused defiance with faithfulness. They have mistaken anger for courage, dominance for leadership, and political power for the kingdom of God. In doing so, they have given their trust to leaders who feed on the flock rather than serve it.

Ezekiel spoke plainly to shepherds who fed themselves instead of caring for the sheep, who ruled with force and harshness, and who left the vulnerable scattered and exposed. That warning was not written merely for ancient Israel. It is a living indictment wherever leaders enrich themselves, protect their reputations, and demand loyalty while neglecting—or harming—the people entrusted to their care.

A wildfire does not begin with a wall of flame. It begins with dry grass, neglected brush, a careless spark, and conditions that have been allowed to worsen. The church has been drying out for a long time. Celebrity culture, fear-driven preaching, contempt for truth, hostility toward accountability, and the longing for political dominance have left too much kindling on the ground.

Trump did not create all of it. But he recognized it. He knew how to strike the match.

And many who should have known better helped fan the flames.

Now there are Christians who cannot breathe in the smoke. There are people who have been burned by churches, families divided by political idolatry, and younger believers who wonder whether the Gospel has anything left to say apart from slogans, conspiracy theories, and partisan resentment.

But evacuation is not surrender. Preparing to leave danger is an act of wisdom. It means recognizing that a structure has become unsafe and refusing to pretend otherwise. It means gathering what is necessary for life: faith, truth, compassion, courage, community, and the willingness to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

The Church does not need another authoritarian savior. It already has a Savior.

And He does not demand that we feed His ego, defend His lies, or sacrifice the vulnerable for His power. He calls shepherds to feed the sheep, strengthen the weak, heal the injured, seek the lost, and serve rather than be served.

The smoke is thick. The flames are real. But even now, we can choose what we carry with us—and what we finally leave behind.

Make your own application…