There are a lot of days that it’s hard to have any faith that things will work out, that people will wake up, that there will be an end to this suffering and a renewal of hope. But it’s been undeniable that there’s a storm stirring in the collective heart. One that asks not for fear, but for deep compassion. This week’s Messages of Divine Love were themed: The Last Chance for Change - that message that was directed to a certain kind of Christian - the kind who deny what Christ actually stood for.
It is not too late to repent
Miracles aren’t just divine interventions. They are cooperative acts of love. And love is one of the few powers that both includes and defies politics. The miracles that Jesus performed were notable in part because of how subversively political they were, as most radical acts of love are. Jesus defied a society that marginalized the poor and sick. His message and acts uplifted the very people that the world had discarded.
The problem with MAGA is that the very slogan - Make America great again - ensures someone is left behind. Either it’s the people who already thought America was pretty great, including the people who gave themselves to make it as great as it could be. Or it’s leaving out other parts of the world that also deserve to have greatness be recognized in their people. It also frames success as something fleeting - easily lost or won by a few, instead of a lasting commitment of prosperity for all, by all.
When a faith that relies on threats, fear, or control to convince others of its truth, it begs the question: how universal is it? Creating a commission to study bias against one faith - why choose this one? Why not study anti-Muslim bias or anti-Wiccan bias? Because any legitimate inquiry into bias would reveal how much our nation is designed for and caters to their comfort. The point is to center Christianity as a victim as a matter of law and cultural consciousness, not to address discrimination or fairness to effectuate the goals of religious plurality guaranteed by our Constitution.
Instead, it’s just straight-up coercive programming. Coercion isn’t faith. Faith is a living, breathing connection to the Divine—not only “up there,” but within each of us. For Christians, this also means seeing Christ in each other.
That’s not a metaphor. That’s a living, daily practice. Even before I had my transformative vision in Medjugorje, I was taught by my parish priest that the spark of Christ lives in every person I meet. That I can’t call myself a Christian if I’m unwilling to act accordingly. I wish all Christians had learned this as early as I did - it might have saved us all a ton of turmoil over things like same sex marriage and immigration policy. For a truly Christian nation might know to stop projecting conformity and start reflecting on why it allows problems like poverty and sexual assault to persist.
A Calling isn’t a guarantee
Have I lived this perfectly? Of course, not. I’ve faltered. I’ve definitely failed. There have been moments when I haven’t treated others with the compassion they deserved, where I projected blame where none belonged. But every day, I am committed to this path. Every day is another opportunity to love better, to be kinder, to listen with more intention, to ensure my actions align with my purpose.
Did you know: Miracles follow kindness. You can’t shame cancer into healing. You can’t scream a broken soul into wholeness. But compassion? A kind word? A soft presence when someone is in pain? Encouraging feedback when disappointment descends. That has the power to change everything. That is the secret sauce to success, my friends. Kindness creates the substance of future miracles.
The more love we pour into the world, the more energy we build for miracles to land in the lives of those who need them most. And sometimes, you are the miracle. You are the answer to someone’s unspoken prayer. Sometimes you won’t even know who you helped, but the room created by kindness in your heart allowed for some magic to happen in your circle of influence.
Each time you’re kind, you’ve helped someone you don’t even know. THAT is power. That’s why I always try to choose kindness even when there’s nothing in it for me.
Which is why I’m so deeply troubled by what’s happening right now. The so-called “anti-Christian bias task force” that has emerged. It’s not about protecting faith. It’s performing a kind of religious McCarthyism. They won’t say it’s about rebranding Jesus, but that’s exactly what it is.
In order to root out anti-Christian bias they have to identify what it is. Because what they really want to do is punish any deviance from the narrative of Christianity that bears very little resemblance to Christ himself. They want to rewrite Christianity and thus, Jesus into their own image: shallow, jealous, persecuted, self-righteous, and committed to the most dehumanizing and insulting interpretations of the Bible possible. This is literally taking the Lord’s name in vain…but who cares about details when you’re busy sharpening the knives for a death cult feast?
This is about power. Control. A hollow identity propped up by dogma and reinforced by fear, not by connection or liberation.
If they get to define what Christianity is - if they succeed in narrowing it to their limited, exclusionary view - then where does that leave anyone who believes in empathy? Who believes that love and justice are the gospel? What happens to those Christians who are loyal to the true Christ, not the anti-Christ’s legal interpretation it will use to discriminate?
Making room for love
With the passing of the Pope, there is a vacuum in spiritual leadership. There is no voice with the same global gravitas and spiritual respect to counter the Trump agenda of cruelty. Oh yes, there are world leaders, but aside from the Dalai Lama, I can’t think of anyone who carries the kind of influence that Pope Francis did. T
We need grounded, courageous souls to step in and hold the line of what real Christianity looks like. That means we have to pour even more gentleness, more love, more radical kindness into every interaction, every structure, every relationship.
This is why our voices matter. The way we live our lives matter. For it can serve as an example of spiritual abundance even if you don’t “believe”. All compassion matters.
It’s like the evaporation cycle - each act of kindness rises like mist, forming the clouds that will one day burst and pour down transformation, washing away the pretenses of hypocrisy, revealing the true, vulnerable soul that carried such heavy excuses. When we give of ourselves by living the faith of equality and justice we build the rainstorm that brings the lightning bolt of awareness.
Christianity rooted in control, in hatred, in exclusion is spiritual violence. Even though I don’t actively proclaim myself a Christian (at best, I’m of the gnostic goddess-adjacent variety) I am committed to living my faith. Not as a performance, but as an embodiment. As a sacred integration of who I am and how I show up in the world. It’s about choosing to act with love, especially when it’s hard. Not because I want to “earn” anything, but because love is its own reward.
Be the embodiment you want to see
It will be up to us to not just firmly call out cruelty masquerading as faith, but to be a demonstration of why. This doesn’t mean you need to embrace every person who’s harmed you. It does mean that we need to stop harming those who already love us. It means being brave enough to stop tearing ourselves down, too.
Because while I don’t believe the cliché that “you can’t love others unless you love yourself,” I do believe this: your experience of love is incomplete if you don’t also apply it to yourself.
So even if you’re just improving your self-love by 5%, that’s still sacred work. That’s holy. That’s world-changing. It reclaims territory that should have been yours all along, giving you more room to breathe and feel
We can’t fix everything overnight. Nor do we have to save the world alone. But you can choose to show up with more care. You can offer more grace. And when you do, you create more space for miracles to move through you and into the lives of others.
Let your works define your faith. Let your acts of love be your loudest sermon.
And remember—belonging is never built through exclusion.
Create belonging through connection, always.
