Troy P Zehnder

When Christianity becomes a reflection of what we want rather than a transformation into what God requires.

Election Day in America has become something of a national exercise in division. I’ve jokingly referred to it as “Cancellation Day,” because it often seems that half the country is voting to cancel out the other half.

People no longer seem particularly interested in voting for someone they genuinely believe in. Instead, many are voting against someone they fear. Elections have become battles over the survival of a nation rather than opportunities to select those best qualified to lead it.

As a Christian, I find myself caught between two realities. I believe we have a responsibility to participate in the direction of our country, yet I also recognize that the outcome of every election rests within the sovereignty of God.

Daniel 2:21 reminds us:

“He changes times and seasons; he removes kings and sets up kings; he gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to those who have understanding.”

That doesn’t mean I must agree with every political outcome. It means I recognize that God’s authority extends beyond the ballot box. But the concerns I have about America aren’t exclusively political. They’re spiritual.

And increasingly, I wonder whether the greater danger to Christianity is coming from outside the church or from within it.

When God Becomes What We Want Him to Be

Somewhere along the way, we’ve managed to take a God whose requirements we were striving to meet and replace Him with a God who is expected to meet our requirements.

Think about that for a moment.

Rather than asking how we should change to become more Christlike, we increasingly encounter interpretations of Christianity that ask how Christ can be made compatible with the lives we already want to live.

We want forgiveness without repentance. We want salvation without surrender. We want grace without accountability. We want the comfort of the cross without the responsibility of carrying one. Yet Jesus never described discipleship as a comfortable arrangement in which nothing about us was expected to change.

In Luke 9:23, He said:

“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”

Notice what He didn’t say. He didn’t say to follow Him only when His teachings align with our preferences. He didn’t promise that every desire would be affirmed or that every behavior would be justified.

He called for self-denial, sacrifice, and transformation. And somehow, in portions of modern Christianity, that message has become negotiable. We want God to continue sacrificing for us while remaining unwilling to sacrifice anything for Him.

This isn’t a rejection of grace. Quite the opposite.

Christ’s sacrifice is sufficient. We cannot purchase salvation through good behavior, religious performance, or personal sacrifice. But genuine faith is not intended to leave us unchanged. Grace is not permission to remain who we were. It is the invitation and power to become who God calls us to be.

The Shepherds and the Sheep

When discussing the spiritual direction of Christianity, I place tremendous responsibility upon those who stand behind the pulpit. James 3:1 warns that teachers will be judged with greater strictness. Why?

Because those entrusted with teaching God’s Word carry responsibility beyond their own understanding. Their interpretations influence the spiritual development of everyone who listens. A shepherd is responsible for guiding the flock. When sheep wander into danger, we don’t begin by questioning why the sheep failed to understand the terrain. We ask whether the shepherd was faithfully guiding them.

Ezekiel 34 contains a sobering condemnation of Israel’s shepherds, who neglected the flock entrusted to their care. Rather than strengthening the weak, healing the sick, and seeking the lost, they served themselves. The consequences were devastating. Today, the responsibility remains.

A pastor isn’t called merely to deliver an entertaining sermon, maintain attendance, or ensure that everyone leaves feeling affirmed. A pastor is called to teach Scripture faithfully, even when that teaching challenges the congregation. And that requires something increasingly important: sound biblical interpretation. There is a difference between exegesis and eisegesis.

Exegesis seeks to understand what Scripture communicates through its historical, linguistic, and literary context. Eisegesis introduces our own assumptions and desires into the text, making Scripture say what we want it to say.

When we begin with the conclusion we prefer and search for verses to justify it, we’ve reversed the relationship between God’s Word and human understanding. The Bible is no longer correcting us. We’re attempting to correct the Bible.

The Falling Away That Nobody Recognizes

Scripture presents what can initially appear to be two competing expectations concerning the last days. In Matthew 24:14, Jesus speaks of the gospel being proclaimed throughout the world. Yet in 2 Thessalonians 2:3, Paul speaks of a rebellion or falling away. In 1 Timothy 4:1, he warns that some will depart from the faith. How can the gospel spread throughout the world while people simultaneously fall away from it?

I don’t believe those ideas are necessarily contradictory. Consider the world we inhabit today. Through the internet, biblical teaching can reach people across continents almost instantly. A person with a smartphone can access Scripture, sermons, theological discussions, and religious instruction from virtually anywhere. The opportunity for worldwide proclamation is extraordinary. But accessibility doesn’t guarantee accuracy.

The same technology that allows sound biblical teaching to reach millions also allows almost anyone to find a religious voice willing to validate whatever they already believe. If one church challenges a person’s lifestyle, another may offer a more accommodating interpretation. If one teacher emphasizes repentance, another may emphasize acceptance without adequately addressing transformation.

Eventually, people may stop searching for biblical truth and begin searching for religious agreement. And this brings me to a possibility I find particularly sobering.

What if the falling away isn’t primarily people abandoning Christianity? What if it’s Christianity gradually abandoning its original message?

The churches could remain open. The congregations could continue gathering. The worship music could continue playing. People could continue calling themselves Christians. Yet the substance of what they believe might become increasingly disconnected from the teachings of Christ and His apostles. The most dangerous counterfeit isn’t necessarily one that looks entirely different from the original.

It’s one that looks so familiar that nobody recognizes the difference.

The Danger of a Counterfeit Christ

Jesus repeatedly warned His followers about false prophets and deception. In Matthew 7:15, He warns of false prophets who come in sheep’s clothing but are inwardly ravenous wolves. In Matthew 24:24, He warns that false messiahs and false prophets will arise, performing signs intended to deceive, if possible, even the elect. Paul, in 2 Corinthians 11:14, reminds us that Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.

Notice the recurring theme. Deception doesn’t always announce itself through obvious opposition. Sometimes it arrives wearing the appearance of righteousness. This is particularly relevant to how I understand biblical prophecy concerning the Antichrist and the false prophet.

Many people imagine the Antichrist as someone who will openly oppose everything associated with Christianity. But I believe the deception may be considerably more sophisticated.

If the objective is to replace Christ in the hearts and minds of humanity, wouldn’t a convincing imitation be more effective than an obvious enemy? Revelation 13 describes a second beast, commonly identified as the false prophet, directing worship toward the first beast.

I believe this points toward the possibility of a counterfeit religious system that borrows the appearance of spiritual authority while redirecting allegiance away from the true Christ. That is my eschatological interpretation, not a claim that Scripture explicitly identifies a particular modern denomination or institution as that future system.

But the warning about deception is unmistakable. The danger isn’t merely that people will reject the truth.

It’s that they may become so accustomed to a distorted version of the truth that they no longer recognize the original.

And if that happens, sincerity alone will not protect them. Jesus warns in Matthew 7:21–23 that not everyone who calls Him Lord truly belongs to Him. Perhaps the most sobering element of that passage is the apparent surprise of those who believed their religious activity demonstrated their relationship with Christ. They thought they knew Him. But He declared otherwise.

Salvation Was Never Intended to Leave Us Unchanged

This brings us back to the cross. The cross represents the greatest expression of divine grace, mercy, and sacrifice. But it also represents the seriousness of sin and the extraordinary cost of redemption. We cannot celebrate Christ’s willingness to sacrifice for us while dismissing His call for us to follow Him. Romans 12:1 calls believers to present themselves as living sacrifices. Romans 12:2 calls them to be transformed through the renewing of their minds rather than conformed to the patterns of this world. Transformation is not an optional accessory to Christian discipleship. It is part of the very life to which Christ calls us.

This doesn’t mean Christians will achieve perfection. We will stumble, struggle, misunderstand, and require forgiveness throughout our lives. But there is a tremendous difference between struggling to follow God’s will and demanding that God’s will be rewritten to accommodate our struggles. One seeks transformation. The other seeks justification. One acknowledges God’s authority. The other attempts to replace it with our own. The question is not whether God loves imperfect people. Scripture makes that abundantly clear. The question is whether we love God enough to allow Him to change us.

Elections, Nations, and the Sovereignty of God

So what does any of this have to do with Election Day? More than we might initially imagine. Political decisions reflect competing visions of society, morality, authority, and the responsibilities of government. As citizens, we have opportunities to participate in those decisions. As Christians, we must consider how our convictions inform our participation. But we should never confuse political victory with spiritual victory.

Nor should we assume that the survival of any particular nation is guaranteed simply because we believe its founding principles were admirable. The United States is not explicitly identified by name in biblical prophecies concerning the tribulation. Its future role, like many questions of eschatology, remains a subject of interpretation.

What Scripture does tell us is that earthly kingdoms are temporary. Daniel 2:21 reminds us that God raises up rulers and removes them. And Daniel 2:44 speaks of a kingdom established by God that will never be destroyed. That is where my ultimate confidence rests. I can love my country without worshiping it. I can participate in elections without placing my salvation in political outcomes. I can grieve what I perceive as moral decline without forgetting that God’s sovereignty has never depended upon the approval of humanity.

But perhaps most importantly, I can recognize that the spiritual condition of a nation cannot be repaired solely through legislation or elections. A nation filled with churches is not necessarily a nation filled with disciples. And a church filled with people is not necessarily a church filled with sound teaching. If we want genuine spiritual renewal, it must begin with a return to the authority of Scripture, faithful teaching, sincere repentance, and lives that demonstrate the transforming power of Christ.

Not a Christ reconstructed to satisfy our preferences. Not a gospel rewritten to accommodate our desires. But the Christ who called us to deny ourselves, take up our crosses, and follow Him. Because ultimately, the greatest danger isn’t that the world will stop talking about Jesus.

It’s that the world will continue talking about Jesus while forgetting who He actually is.

And perhaps that is why His warning about discernment remains so important. The responsibility of the church isn’t to make the gospel more acceptable by removing everything that challenges us. It is to proclaim the gospel faithfully enough that those who hear it have the opportunity to be transformed by it.

The cross was never intended to make us comfortable remaining who we are. It was intended to make possible who we could become through Christ.

Scripture References: Daniel 2:21, 2:44; Ezekiel 34; Matthew 7:15–23, 24:14, 24:24; Luke 9:23; Romans 12:1–2; 1 Corinthians 11:14 (correction: 2 Corinthians 11:14); 1 Timothy 4:1; 2 Timothy 4:3–4; James 3:1; 2 Thessalonians 2:3; Revelation 13.