Five Years of Painting Flowers — and the Same Unresolved Mental Conversation (Christian Faith and Politics)
- Brittney Switala
- Feb 7
- 8 min read
“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”— Micah 6:8
As I pull out the light teal paint, a plum, and heavy medium, my mind drifts into the same familiar mental box. It’s a box of unresolved philosophical conversations—conversations that need space. A busy mind. A bit of stewing. The release comes through brush and palette knife.
With long flourishes, I paint backgrounds and listen to hymns. With thick texture sweeping across the canvas, I listen to podcasts about Christian faith and politics.
I press the palette knife harder than necessary. The texture thickens. I notice it before I realize why.
Another political clash.
Growing division.
Five Years of Chaos
Please forgive me if my quick summary fails to capture the full nuance people feel around these complex and emotionally charged issues.
COVID Vaccinations
(To obey or not obey?)
George Floyd
(Decry racism everywhere, or fear being labeled a racist?)
The 2020 Election
(Was the election stolen—or wasn’t it?)
The Overturning of Roe v. Wade
(Celebrating or bemoaning?)
The Growth of Gay Marriage and Transgenderism
(Speak out against immorality—or promote inclusion?)
Political Assassinations and Assassination Attempts
(Unequivocally condemn violence—or argue that it's deserved?)
Crackdowns on Illegal Immigration
(Uphold the law—or empathize with neighbors?)
These questions don’t stay abstract. They settle into bodies, families, churches—and into my painting.
Philosophical Wonderings on Christian Faith and Politics: “How Can We Fix This?!”
My stomach hurts as I think about it all, and I know I’m not alone.
There are plenty of Americans who want to fix their country. People are frustrated, angry, and sad. They are passionate. Some are attempting to fix the country in ways I believe are sending us morally and governmentally in the wrong direction.
I don’t expect people who are not God-fearing to think like me or vote like me. It’s natural that we would want different directions for our country. Even the word fixing means different things when a nation has become this deeply divided.
The Four Percenters
According to George Barna, only about 4% of Americans now hold a Biblical worldview. That number alone is disturbing. But what concerns me even more is the divide within the Church itself on these lightning-rod issues.
A 2025 study found that while many Americans believe in a supreme power, only 4% hold a Biblical worldview rooted in the God of Scripture.(Source: Arizona Christian University, 2025)
But what is our core goal, and what is the cost of pursuing it?
If the goal is the preservation of our country, how do Christians with diametrically opposed viewpoints—and extreme theological disagreements—come together?
If the goal is the preservation of Biblical orthodoxy over the country, then the logical outcome appears to be accepting civil war—with “church people” on both sides.
Could I—could we—go to war against people we sit next to in church?
Looking for a Third Way
I’ve searched for a third way. In fact, there is even something called Third Wayism. What I’ve discovered, however, is that much of the material calling Christians to look past politics often compromises Truth, quietly bending toward progressive social stances.
That realization doesn’t bring relief. It brings more questions—and another swath of deep plum paint.
The Great Divide
I don’t like conflict. I don’t think most people do—no matter how alluring rage bait can be. And Jesus spoke plainly about this. Division is not what He desires for His people.
In John 17, Jesus prays for His followers “that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you” (John 17:21–22). Unity among believers is not a side issue; it is meant to be a witness. Our oneness is supposed to point the world to Christ and reveal the glory of God.
At the same time, unity does not mean passivity. One of the purposes of the Church is to bring justice into a broken world.
As I pause to photograph my work in progress—paint still wet, texture unfinished—I scroll past Instagram posts from fellow moms and business owners standing in solidarity for “justice.” We’re using the same word. But we don’t mean the same thing.
What Does It Mean to “Do Justly”?
The divide in the Church often comes down to this question: What is justice, really?
Scripture makes it clear that justice is not a modern invention or a social trend. It flows from the character of God Himself.
God warns His people not to twist justice to favor one group over another:
“Do not pervert justice; do not show partiality to the poor or favoritism to the great, but judge your neighbor fairly” (Leviticus 19:15).
Justice is not selective, and it is not sentimental. It is grounded in truth.
Again and again, Scripture ties justice to obedience:
“Follow justice and justice alone, so that you may live and possess the land the LORD your God is giving you” (Deuteronomy 16:20).
Justice is not neutral—it has outcomes.
“When justice is done, it brings joy to the righteous but terror to evildoers” (Proverbs 21:15).
And it demands action, not slogans:
“Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow” (Isaiah 1:17).
Justice, biblically defined, is not vague compassion. It is moral clarity applied with responsibility.
Progressive Faith, Progressive Politics
Among those who identify as Progressive Christians, “doing justice” in practice often aligns seamlessly with the modern liberal political agenda. Christian Progressivism exists on a spectrum, but when examining its common theological themes, it raises serious doctrinal questions.
For the sake of argument, let’s assume some Progressive Christians do possess saving faith. Even then, they are firmly “Team Blue.”
That leaves the rest of the orthodox Church facing a more complicated question: How are faithful Christians—we who share the same creeds—so divided on justice in public life?
Conservative Faith, Divided Politics
Many Christians who consider themselves theologically conservative are deeply divided on how that faith should be lived out in the public square. They affirm the Apostles’ Creed and the Nicene Creed, yet arrive at radically different conclusions about law, governance, and political responsibility.
Those who lean politically left often argue that government power should not be wielded by Christians to shape a nation’s moral framework. Christian love, in this view, means supporting legal protections even while privately disagreeing with certain moral behaviors. Humanitarian concern may be seen as outweighing strict enforcement of the law.
To articulate the opposing perspective, I’ll defer to apologist I greatly respect, Natasha Crain.
In When Culture Hates You: Persevering for the Common Good as Christians in a Hostile Public Square Crain challenges the claim that Christians should avoid “legislating morality.” She points out that all laws legislate morality—whether secular or religious. Environmental policy, speech restrictions, and sexual ethics all reflect moral judgments. Christian participation in politics, then, is not coercive overreach; it is participation in a system where morality is always being codified.
Crain often references Jesus’ warning in John 15:18—that the world will hate His followers—to explain why Christian engagement will inevitably be met with hostility. Still, she argues Christians should not retreat. Influencing culture is not a betrayal of the Gospel; it can be an expression of loving one’s neighbor.
Jesus did not use political power during His earthly ministry. But modern Christians, Crain argues, are called to steward the influence they do have—for the common good.
"You Give Love a Bad Name"
In daily life, the conflict inside the Church looks small—but it isn’t.
One church member shares an article from a well-known Christian speaker who despises President Donald Trump and warns that his voters are committing idolatry. The post is met with applause and affirming comments from fellow parishioners.
Another Christian posts Scripture about borders, order, and national sovereignty—arguing that these, too, have biblical grounding. The response is silence. Quiet distancing. Subtle posturing.
The social media feed seems to fill with church goers who are calling others to consider the Gospel optics and stop the hateful rhetoric and simply love your neighbor.
But “love your neighbor” has become a weapon—wielded selectively, stripped from its biblical context, and used to advance liberal political agendas. Scripture does not allow us to define love by feelings alone. Love is shaped by truth, and truth is meant to be spoken in love. Remove truth, and what remains is not compassion—it is sentimentality. And sentimentality helps no one.
A simple heart appears on the textured paper in light blue.
I pause and think, How did love get so complicated?
The Benefit of the Doubt
Some of my grief comes from experience. I’ve lost closeness with people I love—not over the Gospel, but over whether loving my country and speaking plainly about what's happening in the world from a conservative viewpoint is still allowed within the Christian community. I know I’m not alone.
More and more, politically conservative Christians are treated like something embarrassing—an oddity to be distanced from, the uncomfortable relative at the family table. The benefit of the doubt rarely flows in our direction.
When it does, it often sounds like this: If only you would move left. If only you would soften. If only you would stop insisting.
I want to believe in generosity of spirit. I want to assume good faith.
Maybe you know something I don’t…
I recently learned about Christian asylum seekers from Myanmar facing increased scrutiny and delays from ICE in Minnesota. I can feel compassion for families seeking refuge while still believing that borders, laws, and even extra precautions matter.
Facts may not be facts…
AI has fractured our shared sense of reality. Images and videos can no longer be trusted at face value. We rely on different sources, trust different institutions, and believe different narratives. For example, if I don’t trust CNN’s reporting and you do, we will interpret the same event in completely different ways. We can give one another the benefit of the doubt because we are looking at completely different “facts.” Whether we know it or not, it seems we are all shaped by a propaganda war.
I flip through an old hymnal and want to crawl inside—to a time of paper news, shared facts, and those grandmotherly church ladies in the kitchen who somehow knew everything.
Reality calls me back.
What I Fear—and Why I Paint Peace
My mind circles back: Country or Orthodoxy? Do we have to pick?
Perhaps the truth is more nuanced:
Orthodoxy is more important than country. Our primary church divisions are over non-salvation matters. These matters of biblical interpretation, authority and obedience pit us against one another, deepening national divide. These perspectives divide us into Red vs. Blue.
And yes—I feel the heaviness of something darker brewing here in this land.
I paint peaceful paintings while carrying a grief I never expected to hold.
I love the Church. I love the people I worship beside. I do not want to imagine a future where we stand across from one another as enemies—where disagreements turn physical.
There was a time—not long ago—when Christians believed they could love the Gospel and love their country without apology. Somewhere along the way, caring about law, order, and national inheritance became suspect. Christians were told that influence was coercion, conviction was unkindness, and faith should be relegated to Sunday mornings and Bible studies.
I don’t believe retreat made us more Christlike. I believe it left a vacuum.
Nations do not crumble without cost. There are no winners when a country collapses from within. The poor, the vulnerable, and ordinary families pay first.
So I paint peace—not because everything is fine, but because I am trying to remember what is worth preserving, and ground myself for whatever the future will bring.
For those who want to keep reading about Christian faith and politics:
Natasha Crain, When Culture Hates You: Persevering for the Common Good as Christians in a Hostile Public Square
Krista Bontrager and Monique Duson: Walking in Unity: Biblical Answers to Race and Racisim
Megan Basham, Shepherds for Sale: How Evangelical Leaders Traded the Truth for a Leftist Agenda
Allie Beth Stuckey, Toxic Empathy: How Progressives Exploit Christian Compassion
Alisa Childers, Another Gospel?: A Lifelong Christian Seeks Truth in Response to Progressive Christianity
Voddie Baucham, Fault Lines: The Social Justice Movement and Evangelicalism's Looming Catastrophe
Edited by Jared Longshore (various authors), By What Standard: God's World... God's Rules
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