This piece started as an argument against war in Iran. I had things to say, convictions I was ready to defend. What came out instead was a confession. I had missed Christ’s greatest commandment because I had allowed culture to form my faith. The essay surprised me, and I think that is worth telling you before you read it.
The formation I received in the American church — the church I love — quietly shaped how I understood Jesus. I went to Iraq as a believer, confident that I was on the right side. I looked out from the control tower there without any knowledge of the Christians who had worshipped in that city since the first century. They were my brothers and sisters in the most literal theological sense, and the culture that had formed me had left them entirely off the map it handed me.
Plough Quarterly gave this essay a home, and I am grateful for the seriousness they brought to it. I would ask you to read it slowly, and to stay with whatever troubles you before deciding what to do with it. [Read it here.]
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