“There Is No Hate Like Christian Love” — And That’s a Problem
“There is no hate like Christian love.”
It’s a bitter line, often repeated by those on the receiving end of a weaponized gospel—and for good reason. If you’ve ever been condemned by someone claiming to speak for God, you know the sting of that truth. The cruelty isn’t just painful—it’s holy-wrapped, cross-stitched, and justified by cherry-picked scripture.
But here’s the thing: the people who act this way? They’re not Christians. Not really.
Sure, they wear the label. They shout the slogans. They hold court in megachurches and school board meetings, wielding Bibles like gavels and policy like bludgeons. But Christian in name doesn’t mean Christian in spirit. Being loud about Jesus doesn’t mean you’re living like him.
And that’s the tension I live in.
I myself am a Christian. Not in the smug, self-satisfied way that word has come to signal in certain circles, but in the oft-conflicted, always-striving (and many times failing) way that faith demands. I believe in the teachings of Christ—radical love, inconvenient grace, solidarity with the marginalized, mercy over sacrifice. But I’m also deeply embarrassed by what Christianity has become in the public square. Because when people think “Christian” today, too many picture cruelty with a choir.
And I hate that.
I read an article this morning that reminded me just how far we’ve fallen from the gospel we claim. It outlines yet another instance of so-called Christians acting decidedly un-Christlike in the name of “faith.” And this isn’t just fringe behavior anymore—it’s a movement. A crusade against truth, empathy, and decency, cloaked in religious garb.
It’s no longer enough to shrug off these extremists as “not representative.” Because for many outside the church—and plenty inside it—they are the face of modern Christianity. And if we don’t speak up, loudly and persistently, that face will harden into permanence.
Let me be clear:
Christianity without compassion is counterfeit.
Christianity without humility is heresy.
Christianity without love is…well, it’s just hate in vestments.
And while I believe in grace, I also believe in accountability. Because if your theology demands that others suffer while you remain comfortable, then it’s not theology—it’s control.
I don’t want to be lumped in with the culture warriors who twist Jesus into a mascot for exclusion. I don’t want to be associated with those who preach forgiveness but practice punishment. I don’t want to wear the same name as people who would’ve walked past the bleeding man on the road to Jericho because he didn’t fit their purity test.
But I do still want to call myself a Christian. Because Christ hasn’t changed—even if some of his so-called followers have.
So I’m claiming that name differently. Not to draw lines between the saved and the damned—but to break bread with the broken and be present in the mess.
To anyone who’s been hurt by people who claimed to represent Jesus: I see you. I grieve that pain. And I promise you—that was not Jesus.
To my fellow Christians: If our faith isn’t a refuge for the vulnerable, we’re doing it wrong. If we’re more interested in purity than people, we’re worshipping an idol. If we’re silent while others suffer in our name, we’ve already betrayed the cross.
Let’s be better. Let’s be the people who prove that “Christian love” doesn’t have to be a punchline.