Indiana Lieutenant Governor Micah Beckwith recently declared, “I hate Islam. It’s a demonic death cult,” and encouraged Hoosiers to become comfortable with “hating again.” He attempted to soften the statement by insisting that he loves Muslims, while hating Islam itself. These remarks were made publicly and have since been repeated and defended in subsequent interviews and social media posts.

As a Christian pastor, I believe those comments deserve a response. Not because I am interested in another round of partisan outrage. Not because I believe Christians and Muslims agree on every theological question. They deserve a response because making hatred acceptable is never acceptable.

When a statewide elected official, who is also a pastor, tells people they need “permission to hate again,” Christians should be among the first to object.

To be clear, I do not believe Micah Beckwith is the root problem. He is a symptom.

People do not arrive at this kind of rhetoric in isolation. They are shaped by theological systems, media ecosystems, political movements, and church cultures that reward fear, division, and certainty over humility, compassion, and relationship.

For years, a growing segment of American Christianity has been discipled not by the Sermon on the Mount but by outrage. Not by Jesus’ command to love enemies, but by the conviction that enemies must be defeated. Not by the way of the cross, but by the pursuit of cultural dominance.

What we are witnessing is not simply one politician saying something inflammatory. We are witnessing the fruit of a movement that has increasingly confused Christian faithfulness with political warfare.

The rise of Christian nationalism did not happen overnight. It was cultivated through decades of messaging that taught Christians to fear demographic change, distrust religious pluralism, and view those outside the faith as threats rather than neighbors.

Micah Beckwith did not create that system. But he is one of its most visible products.

Some Christians will undoubtedly defend Beckwith by pointing to Romans 12:9: “Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good.”

At first glance, that seems straightforward enough. The problem is that Scripture was never intended to be read one verse at a time.

Romans 12 is not a manifesto for cultural hostility. It is one of the New Testament’s most beautiful descriptions of Christian love.

Consider the surrounding verses: “Love one another with mutual affection…Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them…Do not repay anyone evil for evil…If your enemies are hungry, feed them…If they are thirsty, give them something to drink…Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

Paul’s concern is not teaching Christians how to hate people more effectively. His concern is teaching Christians how to love in a world filled with evil.

When Paul says “hate what is evil,” he is not giving believers permission to baptize their personal prejudices, political opponents, or religious disagreements with divine approval. He is calling Christians to reject the forces that destroy human flourishing: violence, oppression, cruelty, exploitation, greed, injustice, and hatred itself.

In Romans 12, hatred is directed toward evil. Love is directed toward people. That distinction matters.

Jesus understood evil better than any of us ever will. He confronted religious hypocrisy. He challenged political power. He exposed injustice. He overturned tables.

Yet nowhere do we find Jesus teaching his followers to cultivate hatred toward entire groups of people or entire religious communities.

Instead, we hear difficult commands: Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you. Bless those who curse you. Do good to those who hate you.

These teachings are not sentimental. They are revolutionary.

Jesus understood that hatred has a way of consuming the person who carries it. Hatred rarely remains focused on ideas. Eventually it spills over onto people. History has demonstrated that reality again and again.

When leaders normalize hatred, communities become more fearful. When communities become more fearful, they become more willing to dehumanize others. And once people are dehumanized, all kinds of harm become easier to justify.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. understood this dynamic deeply. One of the central principles of nonviolence is this: Attack forces of evil, not persons doing evil.

King believed we must resist injustice with everything we have. But he also insisted that we never surrender the humanity of those with whom we disagree.

In other words, we oppose racism without hating racists. We oppose violence without hating violent people. We oppose injustice without hating those caught up in unjust systems.

Why? Because people are always more than the worst thing they have said, done, or believed. And because hatred cannot heal what hatred creates.

Dr. King understood that the goal is not the destruction of opponents. The goal is the creation of beloved community. That wisdom feels desperately needed today.

What is equally troubling is the silence from many of Indiana’s political leaders.

Governor Mike Braun and numerous Republican officials have largely avoided publicly challenging these remarks. Braun’s comment basically stated that Beckwith probably regrets how he phrased it. Not that he regrets the thought…just the phrasing! Perhaps that silence is political calculation. Perhaps it is fear of alienating a particular constituency. Perhaps it reflects agreement.

Whatever the reason, silence in moments like this carries its own message. Leadership is not only about speaking when it is easy. It is about speaking when it is necessary.

If an elected official can publicly encourage citizens to embrace hatred toward a religious tradition practiced by millions of Americans and billions worldwide, and fellow leaders remain silent, that silence becomes part of the story.

The church faces a choice. We can continue down a path where fear is mistaken for conviction and hostility is mistaken for courage. Or we can return to the difficult teachings of Jesus.

The teachings that command us to love neighbors. Love strangers. Love enemies. The teachings that refuse to reduce people to labels. The teachings that insist every person bears the image of God.

Christians can disagree profoundly with Islam. Christians can proclaim Christ as Lord. Christians can hold deep theological convictions.

But Christians cannot make hatred a virtue. Not if we intend to follow Jesus.

In a culture looking for permission to hate, Christians should be known for giving the world a reason to hope.