Political division is ruining relationships in the Church
What is tearing this country apart is not merely politics. It is something far deeper, far older, and far more consequential. We are witnessing a moral rupture.
Recently, a man informed a friend of mine — by text message — that he could no longer maintain a friendship with him because of his “Republican values,” which he described as “ungodly.” He insisted he bore no hatred, yet declared the relationship effectively over. In just a few lines on a phone screen, a friendship ended. It was heartbreaking, but something increasingly common. It also reveals the real nature of our national divide.
What we are experiencing is not primarily a contest between parties or platforms. It is a conflict between moral authorities. One vision holds that moral truth is received — revealed by God and preserved in Holy Scripture — while the other increasingly treats moral truth as constructed, fluid, and subject to cultural reinvention. The consequences of this divergence now dominate nearly every major debate in our public life: marriage, sexuality, the sanctity of human life, the definition of family, human nature, and even truth itself.
The Bible warned us of this moment. “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter!” (Isaiah 5:20), the prophet Isaiah declared. This inversion is no longer theoretical; it is institutionalized. Long-standing moral boundaries are being erased and rewritten, while those who hold to historic Christian teaching are portrayed as dangerous, intolerant, or unfit for civil society. Increasingly, citizens are encouraged not merely to disagree with people of traditional faith and moral absolutes, but to sever relationships with them — and in some quarters, even to treat them as enemies.
In 1858, standing before the Illinois Republican Convention, Abraham Lincoln spoke words that still echo across American history: “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” Lincoln was not addressing party politics as we know them today. He was diagnosing a moral estrangement — the growing conflict between the self-evident truth of human dignity and the institution of slavery. Lincoln understood that a nation could not endure half committed to freedom and half committed to bondage. One ethical vision would ultimately have to prevail over the other.
He was absolutely right.
The division did not heal itself through polite disagreement or procedural compromise. It hardened and deepened. In time, it tore the nation apart in civil war. Lincoln’s warning remains painfully relevant in every generation: a society cannot survive for long when its people no longer agree on what is morally true.
This is where we find ourselves today. What we are witnessing is not merely political conflict, but a clash of competing worldviews — over good and evil, truth and falsehood, human responsibility and divine authority. There was a time, not so long ago, when Americans broadly agreed that life at every stage possessed inherent dignity, that marriage had a God-ordained structure, that religious conviction deserved respect rather than suspicion, and that truth was not endlessly negotiable. Today, these foundations are openly contested. Just as in Lincoln’s day, the result is not mere disagreement; it is destabilization.
Yet while the cultural conflict is real and the moral stakes could not be higher, the Christian response must remain radically different from the spirit of this age. We do not surrender conviction in order to preserve peace, nor do we surrender love in order to defend truth. We tenaciously hold to both — without compromise and without bitterness.
Jesus never retreated from moral clarity, but neither did He withdraw from those who opposed Him. He spoke truth plainly, and He loved relentlessly. The apostle Paul captured this posture with rare precision: “Speaking the truth in love” (Ephesians 4:15). That balance is not weakness. It is the highest form of strength.
The tragedy of moments like the one my friend experienced — when he received a text ending a long-standing friendship — is not simply the loss of that relationship. It is the replacement of tolerance with political tribalism, the elevation of ideology over the commonality of our human dignity, and the quiet assumption that loyalty to a political party now determines righteousness. God help us.
The Church doesn’t navigate moral storms by retreating into factions or mirroring the hostility of the culture. It traverses the treacherous terrain by standing unflinchingly on the authority of God’s Word, while extending grace to those who reject it. Genuine Christianity does not fear disagreement. Neither does it answer rejection with resentment. Nor does it abandon the Gospel of reconciliation when reconciliation becomes costly.
The path before Christians in this moment is narrow but clear: unwavering allegiance to biblical truth, combined with an unwavering commitment to Christlike love — even toward those who misunderstand, oppose, or reject us.
Sometimes this witness is carried in the simplest of replies. When my friend received the sad text message, he was deeply saddened and contacted me to ask what he should do. I suggested he might respond by sending the following text in return:
“I’m truly sorry you feel that way — truly I am. I have always valued the time and friendship we’ve shared, even though we have often seen some things very differently. But I don’t believe our differences should cancel our human connection. There are still areas of life where we agree, and we may need each other someday. Nevertheless, I respect your decision. I wish you all the best, and I’ll leave my door wide open if you ever want to reconnect.”
If the world must divide, let it never be said that Christians forgot who they were and to whom they belonged.
Rev. Mark H. Creech is Executive Director of the Christian Action League of North Carolina, Inc. He was a pastor for twenty years before taking this position, having served five different Southern Baptist churches in North Carolina and one Independent Baptist in upstate New York.
