How Faith Became a Weapon and Why It’s Time to Lay It Down
Tonight, a local church is hosting an event titled “Pick Up The Mic (city name): Courage for the Culture Wars,” organized by a group affiliated with the Seven Mountain Mandate movement.
Emerging in the 1970s, the Seven Mountain Mandate has evolved into a more militant and influential force within evangelical Christianity, promoting the idea that Christians must “invade” and seize control of seven key sociopolitical spheres: family, religion, education, media, entertainment, business, and government. Proponents justify this agenda through a broad—and widely disputed—interpretation of Revelation 17 and Isaiah 2:2, claiming divine authority to conquer these “mountains” in order to hasten the second coming of Christ.
Prominent adherents include Laurent Boebert, Rafael Cruz (father of Ted Cruz), Mike Johnson, Paula White (Trump’s spiritual advisor), and the late Charlie Kirk. Although I grew up with these ideas, I only recently learned about the term itself, and suspect many evangelicals practicing them aren’t aware of their origins.
The local group has expanded quickly, building on the momentum of the MAGA movement. Their influence now extends into local government and public activities. The group adheres to a rigid theology that associates control with righteousness. For them, their way of practicing Christianity is the only way, and if you disagree with them, you are considered both wrong and unsaved.
Groups like those affiliated with the Seven Mountain Mandate are masters at using charisma and spiritual manipulation to rally followers. They use emotionally charged rhetoric, claims of divine authority, and drummed up displays of spiritual power to convince sincere Christians that their movement is from God. Critical thinking and an honest look at scripture tell a different story, leading me to wonder: Did Jesus really ask us to fight a culture war?
What Is a Culture War … and Who Does it Benefit?
What exactly is a culture war? I’ve heard the term as long as I can remember, and I used to be fully on board. Raised in the 80s and 90s, I belonged to a large extended family that fully embraced this type of Christianity. None of us would have admitted it, but we all lived in constant fear of demonic influence, shaped by the era’s satanic panic, which warned that even innocent things, like Cabbage Patch Dolls or the Smurfs, could serve as gateways for Satan to enter our lives.
We thought the culture wars were a noble cause, a way to influence society for Jesus and bring more people into His kingdom, thus assuring our loved ones would enter heaven, not hell, when they died. It was a spiritual battle fought for the souls of people God loved…or so we thought.
In reality, for decades, religious and political leaders have strategically used culture war messaging to stir strong emotions among their followers. This rhetoric is crafted to mobilize loyal supporters, suppress dissenting voices, and consolidate power, control, and wealth. Many prominent evangelical leaders who have championed the culture war narrative have reaped significant financial rewards, amassing fortunes in a relatively short period.
So maybe the real question isn’t just what we’re fighting for but who benefits from keeping us at war?
The Cost of Battle
Culture War Christianity does not reflect the Gospel that Jesus preached. Instead, it is harmful messaging that wounds people and distances them from God. I know this firsthand because I lived it.
Untangling yourself from a lifetime of indoctrination is an arduous process. My parents took me to political events from an early age. My sisters and I were in a parade to support a local conservative politician. At 14, I attended the Republican state assembly with my parents and campaigned for a politician I didn’t know personally. As soon as I turned 18, I started attending caucuses, and county and state assemblies like a “good Christian” should. Politics and religion were inseparable in my world, and I didn’t know there was any other way to follow Jesus.
But over time, cracks began to develop in my foundation. I started to see inconsistencies within the party and the church. I noticed how differently I was treated as a woman in ministry and in the church. I witnessed victim-blaming behavior when women tried to get help for their abusive relationships. I saw how people who didn’t measure up to man-made standards were excluded and rejected. I attended a multi-church youth event in my town where a group of goth teens were seated a row or two behind me. I worried about them being judged unfairly, but I had to leave early. My teenage brother told me later that the youth pastor who spoke condemned the kids from the pulpit for their “scary” look. I was angry and disappointed by the youth pastor’s actions, but those emotions quickly turned to grief as I found out a week or so later that one of the girls had died by suicide.
I’ve experienced spiritual abuse at different points in my life, but nothing compared to what I endured in my late thirties. That season left me feeling lost, overwhelmed, and hopeless, as if I were caught in a storm at sea, barely keeping my head above water while questioning many of my foundational beliefs. In the years since, I’ve sought out resources and voices to help me make sense of my experiences. Discovering writers and thinkers like Beth Allison Barr, Jemar Tisby, Ngina Otiende, and Kristen Kobes Du Mez was transformative; they helped me recognize the deep-seated bigotry that permeated the world I once called home.
For a while, I resisted the idea that the leaders I admired might not be the godly, good-hearted people I believed them to be. But as more Christian leaders—culture warriors—were revealed as abusers, predators, or both, the truth became impossible to ignore. What I experienced wasn’t an isolated incident; it was the norm. And, painfully, I began to understand why this world so readily embraced someone like Donald Trump.
The personal and collective costs of culture war Christianity are undeniable. Deeply wounded people have been left bleeding and dying outside on battlegrounds that used to be sanctuaries. Faith communities that should have been life-giving were left fractured by abuse, fear, and exclusion.
As I have struggled to heal and move forward, I have found hope in the heart of the Gospel and the person of Jesus. Culture war Christianity has led to so much division and harm in our country. But what if we could reclaim the message of Jesus, who was a healer, not a conqueror? What if true courage is not found in domination, but in vulnerability, bridge-building, and the kind of radical love that Jesus called us to?
Jesus as a Healer, Not a Conqueror
Unlike the militant theology that calls Christians to “invade” and control, Jesus modeled a radically different way. He healed the sick, welcomed immigrants (Matthew 15:21-28; John 4; Luke 7), and taught his followers to love their enemies (Matthew 5:44). Instead of seeking power, Jesus washed his disciples’ feet (John 13:14-15), cared for the marginalized (Luke 4:18-19), and resisted empire not through force, but through compassion and speaking truth to power.
Jesus never asked us to fight a culture war. Instead, He called us to a non-coercive, inclusive faith. In the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5), He blessed the humble, the merciful, and the peacemakers. When His disciples were competing for positions of power, He rebuked them and instructed them to serve each other (Matthew 20:25-28).
What Courage Really Looks Like
True courage is not about winning debates or telling people what to think (and condemning them to hell if they disagree). The courage that Jesus modeled is vulnerable. That kind of courage empowers us to admit mistakes, listen to those the institutional church has excluded, and build bridges in a divided society. And it tells the truth, even when it costs us. It speaks up when people are being harmed in the name of Jesus or when the Gospel is twisted to serve the agendas of the powerful.
Today, many Christians embody this kind of courage. People like Beth Allison Barr, who challenges patriarchal structures in the church; Jemar Tisby, who speaks truth about racial justice; and Kristen Kobes Du Mez, who exposes abuses of power. Their witness reminds us that following Jesus means choosing love over fear, healing over conquest, and community over control.
Truth or Power Play: Evaluating Spiritual Claims with Critical Thinking
It is easy to fall prey to spiritual manipulation because it usually comes wrapped up in passion, confidence, and charisma. But, beneath the façade of certainty lies a tool of control that weaponizes faith and distorts the true message of Jesus. Recognizing spiritual manipulation requires the courage to trust yourself, even when others, backed by decades of tradition, insist you are wrong. Here are some red flags to watch out for.
- Guilt and shame are used to control. If people question leaders, leave the group/church, try to set boundaries, or don’t meet established expectations, they are made to feel guilty and/or shamed until they repent and fall back in line.
- Fear-based obedience is demanded through threats (subtle or overt) of punishment, loss of salvation, demonic influence, or divine retribution.
- Gaslighting – your personal experiences, doubts, and emotions are invalidated.
- Love-bombing followed by withdrawal is a tactic used by all types of abusers. It looks like intense acceptance and love – you instantly feel welcome and part of the group, and you feel loved in a way you may not have experienced before. But then, at the first sign of independence or disagreement, the person/group withdraws and acts cold and distant.
- Leaders who claim to speak for God make it clear that their opinions or interpretations are directly from God and therefore not to be questioned.
- Elitism – the group or leader believes their understanding of God is correct and true, and anyone who believes differently is deceived.
- “Don’t touch God’s anointed” – This verse is plucked from its context in scripture and used to silence dissent anytime someone tries to hold a spiritual leader accountable.
- Information control – you are told not to read certain books, listen to certain teachers/preachers, or question leadership decisions. Or you are told only to trust certain sources, translations of the Bible, etc. Anytime people are discouraged from exploring other beliefs, ideas, or perspectives, spiritual manipulation is at play.
Whenever you participate in church services, conferences, rallies, etc., keep your mind engaged. Ask questions, such as:
Who benefits from this message? Is it fulfilling Luke 4:18-19 by uplifting the vulnerable, or is it about consolidating power?
Does this message reflect Jesus’ life and the true gospel, or is it propping up a specific person, movement, or group?
Is this about love or control, allegiance or grace, empire or the gospel? Jesus never forced anyone to follow Him. He invited them and healed them without strings. He even challenged them, but it was always with love, not coercion.
Trust yourself. Preachers frequently twist scripture to tell you that your own heart and mind can’t be trusted, but that is a key feature of gaslighting and spiritual abuse. Develop humility, curiosity, and the courage to ask hard questions. Scripture was intended to be life-giving, and it should never be used as a weapon.
Choosing a Different Path
I’ve walked away from Culture War Christianity because I have discovered there are other ways to follow Jesus – ways that are more faithful to the life He modeled and the message He preached. I’m learning how to listen more and speak less. I’m finding ways to advocate for the marginalized and choose empathy and humility over certainty.
This kind of faith can be practiced in everyday acts of compassion. When I stopped trying to win a culture war, I found that it was easier to love the way Jesus did.
Imagine churches that are genuinely welcoming and inclusive; communities that prioritize healing, not hierarchy; and Christianity that builds sanctuaries, not fortresses. It may not be flashy or make the headlines, but it will transform lives – starting with yours and mine.
Jesus never called us to wage war in his name. He called us to love radically and fearlessly. He gave us an example of what it looks like to uplift the oppressed, resist power and wealth, and stand against empire.
Let’s stop using faith as a weapon and reclaim the grace that heals, includes, and uplifts.