The People’s Revival

Christian, you didn’t wake up radical. You were trained.

This didn’t start with Jesus.
It didn’t start with the Bible.
And it damn sure didn’t start with abortion.

It started when segregation stopped working.

For decades, American churches openly defended racial separation. Christian schools. Christian colleges. “Biblical separation.” All built to preserve a social order that civil rights was dismantling. When the courts stepped in and the IRS threatened tax-exempt status, that position became indefensible. You couldn’t say it out loud anymore without consequences.

So the church didn’t repent.
It pivoted.

Segregation was swapped out for abortion — not because theology changed, but because abortion could carry the same political weight without the racial exposure. It centered children. It framed the conflict as pure good versus pure evil. It required no confession, no history, no reckoning with power. And best of all, it could never be resolved. Permanent outrage. Permanent emergency. Permanent loyalty.

At the same time, racial control didn’t disappear — it went abstract.

When you can’t name who you’re afraid of, you invent something to be afraid of. “The culture.” “The left.” “The liberals.” “The gays.” “The woke.” Moral panic replaced racial panic. Fear without a face. An enemy everywhere and nowhere. That’s how you keep people anxious, obedient, and angry without ever admitting what you’re protecting.

Then came the final swap.

“States’ rights” — exposed for the lie it always was — became “biblical values.” Harder to challenge. Impossible to audit. Who argues with God? Who questions “the Bible”? Except the Bible wasn’t being followed — it was being weaponized. Jesus wasn’t shaping ethics — He was furnishing slogans. The Sermon on the Mount quietly vanished, because it undermines domination every time it’s taken seriously.

And that’s how politics didn’t just influence the church — it discipled it.

Fear became holiness.
Anger became discernment.
Loyalty became faith.

If loving enemies now feels weak to you,
if mercy sounds like compromise,
if power feels righteous and cruelty feels necessary —

that’s not Christianity.

That’s radicalization wearing a Ned Flanders mask.

And until we tell the truth about how we got here, the church will keep bleeding credibility — and calling it persecution.

Truth hurts.
But lies rot.