04/19/2026
There is no salvation without the lamb. That is true power.
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Misquoting Scripture: White Christian Nationalism Loves the Lion but Forgets the Lamb
By A Country Pastor
There are so many small, chaotic things we could talk about. Every day brings another one. They are real, they are troubling, and they never seem to stop. The situation with Catholic Charities is one of those moments, especially as support is pulled away from programs that provide care, shelter, and stability for immigrant children and vulnerable families. We could talk about Donald Trump cutting off that support. We could talk about the steady pattern of pettiness and retaliation, and the constant stream of moments that leave people frustrated and angry. We could talk about Pete Hegseth standing in the Pentagon and using lines from a movie while delivering them with the tone of Scripture, presenting something that sounded biblical without actually being Scripture at all. The examples keep coming. They fill the day with noise that demands attention and reaction, and they pull people into a cycle in which the latest outrage replaces the last, before anything deeper can be seen.
All of it keeps attention at the surface while something deeper takes shape underneath. People feel worn down in a way that reaches beyond frustration. The constant surge of chaos drains the spirit and scatters focus. It keeps everyone reacting instead of reflecting. In that churn, a deeper shift unfolds inside the church itself. Across communities, in honest conversations, people sense a widening gap between the Jesus they have come to know and the version of faith they now see carried out in his name. That gap widens each time strength is elevated while compassion is set aside.
Many have heard it said that “the lion will lie down with the lamb.” It sounds right. It feels biblical, but it’s not said like that in the Bible. Repetition has made it familiar. Scripture says something more demanding. In the Book of Isaiah, the vision reads, “The wolf shall live with the lamb… and the calf and the lion and the fatling together” (Isaiah 11:6). The picture is a reordered world. Predators no longer devour. Strength no longer threatens. Peace reshapes everything from the ground up. The lion remains present, yet it no longer dominates. Power itself has been changed.
We are witnessing, in our own lifetime, a world order being reshaped before our eyes. In recent years, alliances, rhetoric, and the exercise of strength have shifted in visible ways. What we see echoes that ancient vision, not as a completed peace, but as a contest over what kind of power will define the future. One path continues to elevate dominance and control. The other calls for a transformation in which power no longer devours and strength no longer threatens. This tension is not abstract. It is unfolding in real time, and we are living inside it.
Scripture then sharpens the point. In the Book of Revelation, the Lion of Judah is announced with the full expectation of victory and force. John hears that the lion has won. He turns, expecting to see power as the world defines it, strong, dominant, unmistakable. You can almost see it through his eyes, a lion ready to conquer and take control. But when he looks, he sees that what he thought was a lion is actually a lamb. A lamb that has been slain. What he expected is not what is there. The victory stands, yet it looks like a sacrifice. It looks like love that gives itself away. The lion is revealed through the lamb, and that revelation changes the meaning of power. Many still hear the lion and never make the turn to see the lamb. Without that turn, power remains defined by control rather than by love (Revelation 5:5–6).
That is the story Scripture tells, and that is the story being misquoted, reshaped, and replaced. When words that are not Scripture are spoken with the authority of Scripture, something deeper than error is at work. When Pete Hegseth used lines from a movie and delivered them with the tone and weight of Scripture, it showed how easily the sound of strength can be mistaken for the voice of truth. The delivery felt strong. The certainty felt convincing. The tone carried the lion. The substance lacked the lamb. There was no call to humility, no call to sacrifice, no call to self-giving love. That gap exposes a version of power that elevates dominance and calls it righteousness.
I’m writing this from what, in my own words, I would call a Jesus-loving Christian gathering, or simply a Jesus-Christian gathering, just outside Chicago. They hear my country pastor voice, that Southern twang that comes with where I’ve been and how I’ve learned to preach, and that voice can be misjudged. People hear the accent and form conclusions before they hear the message. The same thing happens with Scripture. People hear a phrase and assume its meaning before they turn to see it for themselves. Misquoting Scripture grows out of the same habit as misjudging people. We hear, we assume, and we stop too soon. We never make the turn that reveals what is actually there.
The lamb takes shape in the world in concrete ways. The lamb shows up wherever the hungry are fed. It shows up wherever immigrant children receive care. It shows up wherever families find shelter, and wherever ministries like Catholic Charities carry out quiet, persistent work of compassion. The lamb does not seize power. The lamb gives itself in love. The lamb restores what has been broken and remains with those who have been pushed aside.
In this moment, the lamb is being sacrificed. Support is pulled away from those expressions of care. Aid that reaches immigrant children and vulnerable families is cut back. Systems built on compassion are treated as expendable. That choice clarifies which vision of faith is being elevated.
White Christian nationalism centers the lion. It lifts up strength, dominance, certainty, and control. It celebrates power and calls it righteousness. It rallies around leaders who project force and promise order through control. The lion appears everywhere in its imagery. It is posted, shared, and elevated as a symbol of divine authority and power. It forms identity. It shapes belief. It tells people what kind of power to trust and what kind of power to become.
A deeper tension shows up in how power is claimed and exercised on the world stage. Both the United States and the modern political nation of Israel draw from the language and imagery of the lion, strength, authority, survival. In those moments, power is asserted, defended, and justified as necessary. That instinct is real in a world shaped by conflict and fear. But the pattern becomes unmistakable when strength remains at the center and begins to define everything. Power places itself above. Power secures itself first. Power defines peace through control. Others carry the weight of that power, often in the position Scripture gives to the vulnerable, the ones who absorb the cost. The lion stands, but it stands alone. Once the lion stands alone, power no longer restores. It preserves itself.
Scripture gives language for this moment. Jesus says, “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. You will know them by their fruits” (Matthew 7:15–16). Fruit reveals the root. Power that consumes instead of restores, demands loyalty instead of offering love, and feeds on fear instead of healing it reveals its own character.
Donald Trump embodies that lion through dominance, control, and winning at all costs. Pete Hegseth reflects it in the strength he elevates and the certainty he projects. Franklin Graham gives it a religious voice, shaping how people hear Scripture so that strength sounds like righteousness and control sounds like God’s will. The tone is strong. The message is certain. The lion is lifted up, and the lamb is left behind.
The difference between these visions shows up in what they produce. One leads toward healing, restoration, and a peace that grows from love. The other leads toward control, division, and a constant need to maintain power. One reflects the lamb. The other depends on the lion alone. The world is watching, and what it sees shapes how it understands Jesus. The lion promises strength through control. The lamb brings life through love. The church that remembers the lamb will help restore what has been broken instead of reinforcing what has been lost.
Many still hear the lion and never turn to see the lamb.
