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The Hope of Christmas When the Good News Feels, Well, Less Good

/ Jason Morris / Leave a comment

It’s hard to deny how divided the United States feels right now. Our politics, our media, our neighborhoods—and yes, even our churches—often seem more shaped by fear, suspicion, and outrage than by love. In that landscape, Jesus’ prayer in John 17 feels almost painfully idealistic: “that they may all be one.” Not just united in belief, but bound together in love, so that the world might believe.

For many of us, that prayer doesn’t feel like a present reality. It feels like a distant dream. Maybe even an unrealistic one.

And yet, every Christmas, we gather to celebrate good news of great joy for all people (Luke 2:10).

That phrase—all people—is beautiful. It’s also uncomfortable. Because if we’re honest, many Christians, especially here in the United States, have spent decades drawing lines around who counts as “all.” We’ve narrowed the circle. We’ve attached conditions. We’ve confused cultural identity, political allegiance, and national loyalty with faithfulness to Christ. We’ve allowed these boundaries to divide us – even over issues that don’t directly impact us.

The angel didn’t make those distinctions. The good news wasn’t announced to the powerful, the religious elites, or the morally “pure.” It was proclaimed to shepherds—people on the margins, people with little status, people others overlooked. From the very beginning, the gospel was expansive, disruptive, and boundary-breaking.

But somewhere along the way, our collective witness has made that good news feel… less good.

During Advent this year, our church ran ads inviting the community to join us for Christmas Eve worship. We received plenty of “likes.” But we also received harsh, negative, and sometimes vulgar comments and messages. Not all of them came from real people (let’s give it up for the AI bots!)—but many did. And behind many of those responses are real stories: people who were hurt by the church, excluded by Christians, shamed in the name of God, or told—explicitly or implicitly—that they didn’t belong.

Responding with grace in moments like that isn’t easy. But it matters. Because how we respond says something about the Jesus we claim to follow.

In the United States today, many Christians have embraced lies as truth. We have championed causes Jesus never addressed while ignoring clear biblical calls to love our neighbor, welcome the stranger, care for the poor, pursue justice, and bear good fruit. We have aligned ourselves with individuals, parties, and platforms that show little evidence of the fruits of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control—and still insist on calling it “Christian.”

That’s not just a theological problem. It’s a credibility problem.

When the church is known more for what it opposes than for whom it loves, the good news stops sounding like great joy. When our words are loud but our compassion is quiet, the gospel loses its power. When our faith looks nothing like Jesus, people stop listening—and who can blame them?

And yet.

Right in the middle of all of this, we stop. We pause. We light candles. We sing familiar hymns. We tell the story again.

A baby, born in a manger. Not in a palace. Not in safety. Not with power or privilege. God choosing vulnerability. God choosing nearness. God choosing to enter the world as it is—not as we wish it were.

Christmas doesn’t deny the brokenness of our world. It declares that God shows up in it.

The hope of Christmas isn’t that everything is suddenly fixed. The hope is that something new has begun. Something better. Something greater than fear, division, and despair. A light that still shines, even when the darkness feels overwhelming.

At Christmas, we remember that the good news really is for all people. And maybe the hope this year is that it won’t just be something we proclaim—but something we live.

Maybe the hope is that we will become people of the good news.
People whose love is wider than our comfort.
People whose grace is louder than our outrage.
People whose lives bring great joy—not just to those who agree with us, but to all people.

That may feel like a distant dream.

But then again, so did a Savior born in a manger.

The Danger of Flippant Labels

/ Jason Morris / Leave a comment

We live in an age of easy labels.

Disagree with someone and, in an instant, they can become an “enemy.” Express a different view and suddenly you’re a “radical,” a “communist,” or worse. These labels roll off tongues quickly and thoughtlessly, as if naming someone with a single word could possibly capture the complexity of their humanity. 

But these careless labels aren’t harmless. They are used to dismiss, belittle, and devalue those with whom we disagree. These labels distort truth, divide communities, and dehumanize people created in the image of God.

I think often about my great-grandfather when I see this happening. He was a Russian immigrant, born in Dobrinka into a family of exiles who had fled Germany for the Volga River region of Russia. After the death of his father, his family immigrated to the United States seeking a better life. Like so many immigrants, he worked hard to learn English and to speak without an accent—he even encouraged his brother to do the same, hoping it might spare him from prejudice.

He served proudly in the U.S. military during World War I. He loved this country deeply. Through hard work and determination, he found minor success as a farmer, a small business owner, and a landlord. He also answered a higher calling—serving as a pastor in the Church of God (Anderson). His faith wasn’t a Sunday-only affair; it was the center of his life, the reason he gave generously, treated workers fairly, and opened his home to others.

And yet, during the McCarthy era, my great-grandfather was labeled a communist. Not because he was part of any party or movement, but because his place of birth and his values—justice, compassion, care for the poor—were suddenly viewed through the warped lens of fear. His desire to live out the teachings of Jesus made him suspect. He faced discrimination and business losses as threats of being placed on a “list” loomed over him.

Still, he never stopped believing that the Gospel meant something more than private faith. He took seriously the example of the early church in Acts—where believers shared what they had, ensuring that no one among them was in need.

His legacy shaped my family’s story. My father, who admired him deeply, would probably best be described in a political sense as a democratic socialist. When I hear people today flippantly use the label “communist,” I can’t help but think of those old stories my father shared of my great-grandfather.

Labels like that are meant to shut down conversation. They’re meant to discredit, to divide, to silence. But when Christians reach for them too easily, we risk betraying the very heart of our faith.

We have used labels like “communist” to dismiss people working for the fair treatment of all people, while celebrating “Christians” who, due to their refusal to humble themselves and work together, withhold food from the hungry, healthcare from the sick, or shelter from the unhoused. When I see this, I find myself thinking that perhaps we’ve misunderstood Jesus altogether.

Jesus didn’t label people. He listened to them, healed them, ate with them, and loved them. He warned against hypocrisy and fear-driven religion. The Kingdom he announced wasn’t divided by ideology but united by compassion.

The early church didn’t thrive because it was powerful or “right.” It thrived because it was known for its love.

Maybe it’s time we reclaim that same spirit—choosing understanding over accusation, curiosity over condemnation, and love over labels.

To learn a bit more about my great-grandfather’s faith, generosity and legacy, watch this short video put together by Anderson University and the Church of God: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9iqY9wiGqrs

Anti-Woke…Anti-DEI…Anti-Gospel…Anti-Jesus

/ Jason Morris / 1 Comment

A couple of days ago, I had a t-shirt pop up in a “things you might light” post.

After “liking” and sharing the image on social media, the algorithm’s set about their work and shared another t-shirt with me this morning.

To be honest, these algorithms are “spot on” because I truly “love” both shirts.

Both t-shirts have stirred up some thoughts that led me to my under-utilized blog.

Over the last several election cycles, many “Christians” have advocated for policies and candidates that embrace an “anti-woke” and “anti-DEI” agenda. For many “Christians,” the assumption has been made that “the reason why the USA is going to hell-in-a-handbasket is because of the ‘woke liberals’ and their ‘progressive agenda’ that promote crazy ideas like diversity, equity and inclusion.”

There are others who may not have this perspective, but have supported candidates who embrace these types of “anti-woke” and “anti-DEI” values because these candidates often make empty promises that their “anti-woke, anti-DEI” policies will lead to lower grocery and gas prices. Maybe I’ve missed it, but I feel like that’s not really working out for us right now. Many of the “on day 1” promises have been replaced with important legislation, like banning paper straws and renaming the Gulf of Mexico (sarcastic tone implied). Call me cynical, but I’m struggling to see how this is going to make my groceries cheaper.

What I am seeing is that programs that are meant to help support the most marginalized members of our society are being gutted and defunded, while billionaires are signing new government contracts for unnecessary space exploration.

When one really digs deep into so much of what is being claimed as “Christian values” within the political sector today, one will easily discover that much of it is void of biblical, Christ-like values.

Many Christians support the pro-life movement. But many of the pro-life folks are actually just “pro-birth.” Many that work to protect the sancity of life and worked tirelessly to reverse Rov vs. Wade also promote policies that cut funding to programs that care for that life after birth. We’re pro-life and pro-war. We’re pro-life and pro-capital punishment. We’re pro-life and anti-affordable healthcare. We’re pro-life and anti-free school lunch. So, maybe we should just call it what it is…we aren’t pro-life, we are pro-birth. We can make a case that protecting the life of the unborn is Christ-like, but not caring for that life after birth is Christ-less.

One of the great things about the States is our freedom…freedom of speech, thought, the right to be wrong. So, feel free to embrace these “anti” positions…just stop claiming them for Jesus!

Leading up to elections, I always encourage folks to read the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7). If someone won’t take the time to read these chapters, I suggest at least reading the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:1-12). These passages reveal the heart of Jesus.

They demonstrate that Jesus is always on the side of the poor, the marginalized, the overlooked, the abused, the least and the last.

They show that Jesus never took a “me first” approach, but always embraced the “others first” mentality. Jesus was not proud or arrogant, but took on the posture of a humble servant.

Jesus did not use fear and intimidation, but embodied love, mercy, and grace.

Jesus called out the oppressors and championed the cause of the oppressed.

Jesus spoke worth and value into those society devalued. He empowered women (I mean, it was the women who announced His resurrection, the first ones to preach the Gospel). He told those who asked “who is the greatest in the Kingdom” that if we want to enter the Kingdom we must become like children (Matthew 18:1-5).

In the American-Evangelical “Christian” pursuit of “anti-woke” and “anti-DEI” policies, I am afraid these “Christians” have embraced an “anti-Gospel” and “anti-Jesus” agenda. Though I embrace a very progressive eschatology (I’m more of a “this is a metaphor – a story to tell us that “love wins” and not a “this is going to play out just like that Kirk Cameron movie based on a piece of rapture-inspired fiction” kind of guy), I could be convinced that in the American-Evangelical “Christian” pursuit of “taking America back” some may have actually embraced a political idol that is actually “anti-Christ.”

So, what do we do? Well, we do the things Jesus called us to do: love God, love neighbor, love enemies, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, make sure everyone has something to drink, care for the sick, visit the imprisoned, care for the orphan and widow, provide for the least of these. In other words, don’t be a jerk.

And, that’s the challenging part for me. Because I am committed to the way of Jesus, that means I’m committed to doing the hard work of loving the folks that are giving Jesus and Christianity a bad name. That means I have to embrace the posture of a humble servant. That means I have to love God, neighbor, and even my enemy. That means I have to strive to stop being a jerk.