If it looks like a duck

We stirred in our wooden seats and peeked at the clock. There were two minutes left in our ethics class. Soon we'd be free for a ten-minute break. The guest speaker had carefully timed his last illustration, and that's when he dropped an ethical bomb on our staunchly conservative class.

"Before we break, I want to leave you with this question; suppose you were hiding Jews from the Nazis, they come knocking and ask you, 'Are there any Jews here,' would it be a sin to lie?"

The bell rang.

The ensuing chaos rocked my theological-loving mind.

Good friends who usually agreed on everything stood on opposite sides of the room opposing each other. Voices were raised. Emotions were rattled. My trust was shaken.

"God is in control and it doesn't matter if you lie or not!"

"You're telling me it's better to let someone die than lie?"

"You could just not say anything!"

Which was right? Was there an answer? Lost, I stood there watching, mouth agape, as my loved ones became opponents. It was the first time in my life I realized how important it was for me to know what I thought, not just what the prevailing theological position was, not just what my friends thought.

That day has come to mind many times throughout the years, but its visits have become more frequent since the advent of Trump. I remember then thinking that day, "What if history repeats itself and we find ourselves choosing between two wrong choices? What will happen to the Church? Will my faith be strong enough?"

Unfortunately, there was a time coming when friends and family would diverge over staunchly held stances, and ultimately divide the Church.

My deconstruction began in 2016 when I saw a wolf in sheep's clothing pandering to the flock and successfully pulling the wool over their eyes. I was left standing alone in a field wondering what the heck was going on. How did they not see his ears poking out from his facade or his fangs dripping with saliva as he made convenient promises?

I could see it, but it didn't take long to become one of the few crying wolf.

Eventually, there came a moment that pushed every disillusioned Christian dangling over the deconstruction cliff, a final blow causing me and so many others to turn from evangelicalism for good. That moment was January 6th, 2021. It was the event horizon of a growing black hole, the point of no return.

I could not believe my eyes. There, amid the most violent attack I'd ever witnessed, was a flag billowing in the wind. It read, "Jesus saves." It was a gut punch. How could these "believers" attack police officers, or erect gallows for the Vice President, and say it was in Jesus' name? None of what I watched looked like Jesus to me.

It looked like nationalism.

It looked like a mob of deceived people following a man who had bad intentions. It made me think of Matthew 24:24.

"For false christs and false prophets will arise and perform great signs and wonders, so as to lead astray, if possible, even the elect."

For years I've been baffled that so many believers think of Trump as "God's man," while he looks nothing like a man of God to me. Inexplicably they ignore his racist rhetoric, temper, self-centeredness, and actual folly. He's the exact opposite of Jesus.

I'm not saying he's the anti-Christ, but if a man recovers from a head wound, deceives believers in mass, and offers Israel peace, then he's a duck and you should never feed ducks, be it bread or praise.

If anything, he's a fascist and we need to decide now what our choices will be when there are only bad options. Here's a tip from someone who has already had to think this thought experiment through; choose whatever choice is the closest to love.

Before I let you go, I want you to consider a hypothetical situation. You live in a country where the new President is surrounding himself with yes-men, eliminating those who don't support him, taking control of the media, and dismantling institutions that once safeguarded freedom. You didn't vote for the guy, but you're unbothered by what's going on.

You're not a minority. You live in a comfy house and as far as you're concerned the changes don't impact you. They impact someone, but not you.

You're at work. Suddenly the monotony of the day is broken by the abrupt entrance of twenty men in bulletproof vests printed with the word ICE. You're a little surprised but not worried, you were born in this country. You watch as the men arrest several of your co-workers. You wonder if the agents had detained their families too.

As you stand there you notice one officer has made eye contact with you. You smile but he glances down at a list he has in his hand. Odd. Now he's approaching. He asks your name. You tell him.

"Turn around and place your hands on your head," he orders.

"What? No, I'm a citizen."

"That's not what I have here."

"But I am!"

Little do you know, the list doesn't reflect the names of illegal immigrants— that's just a ruse. It's a list of people who didn't vote in favor of the new President.

You go with the agent to the car. Suddenly there's a scuffle. One of the detainees is trying to get away. This draws the attention of the other officers, including yours. You break away from him in the confusion. It's chaos.

You run to the nearest house you can find and bang on the door. A man answers.

"Please, please let me hide in there."

The man looks out the door and sees the commotion in the distance.

"Please," you say, "Please, I'm being wrongfully detained."

He waves you in and motions towards a door. You run to it. Opening it you find a dark and dank stairwell to a basement. You shut the door behind you, then brush past cobwebs and dodge old paint cans on the steps.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door. Footsteps. Your hero answers it, "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Hello sir, we're looking for a detainee who got loose and was seen running in this direction. Have you seen him?"

Now here's the question; should he lie?