I don’t belong here!
This world isn’t my home. Jesus nailed it when He said, “My Kingdom is not of this world.” That’s the Kingdom I’m tied to. Not because I run it. I’m small potatoes. Dust on its boots. But it’s mine because Christ said so — and down here I’m a foreigner in a bad land.
I tuned in to a Democrat the other day. My gut twisted. I tuned in to a Republican the next. Same nausea. Then came the Conservative, the Liberal, the Independent. I sat there thinking, They’re all mad. All of them.
Why? Because politics can’t save a soul.
I’d rather write about Jesus on the road to the Cross. The most righteous man to ever breathe. Sinless. Holy. Every answer He gave a knockout. “Should we pay taxes?” they asked. He asked for a coin. “Whose image?” “Caesar’s.” “Then give Caesar what’s his. And give God what’s His.” Clean. Sharp. Unarguable. So why didn’t He argue when the mob dragged Him to Calvary?
Because He had to die. That’s why. Or we’d all still be locked out of Heaven.
Picture it: the man who could summon twelve legions of angels. The man who could lay His life down and pick it back up again. Letting His enemies spit, scream, accuse, whip Him to ribbons. Losing on purpose to win everything. Becoming Prince of Peace by surrender.
Winning by being wrong. Winning by losing. Winning by suffering. That’s the gospel.
And in losing the argument, He detonated peace across eternity.
Could we do that now? Could we let our enemies rip us apart and still bring peace? He told us to deny ourselves, take up our crosses, and follow. That’s not a suggestion. That’s the path.
I’m sick of politics. Sick of left wing, right wing. Sick of every talking head. Nobody’s right when everybody’s wrong. Everyone’s convinced their opinion is the throne of God.
Meanwhile our Master let Himself look wrong so He could make the world right. He called the religious a brood of vipers. He sat with sinners and tax collectors. He saved an adulterous woman in the dirt. And He still said, “My Kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight.”
Render to Caesar what’s Caesar’s. Render to Trump what’s Trump’s. Render to the IRS their cut. Fine. But render to God what’s God’s. That’s the part we keep forgetting. This whole planet, every blue inch, is His. Democrats. Republicans. Charlie Kirks. Ben Shapiros. Every name you can drop. He’ll reward the obedient. He’ll tell the rebels, “Depart from Me. I never knew you.”
If Jesus walked in right now in glorified flesh, He’d probably say, “Get over yourselves. A New Heaven and a New Earth are coming. The government rests on My shoulders. Get over yourselves.”
I can’t wait for the day when donkeys and elephants shut their mouths under the blazing, unstoppable light of the only begotten Son of the living God.