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I am a Christian who loves this country deeply.

What we are watching happen around Donald Trump—through people like Pete Hegseth, Pam Bondi,
and others—isn’t just another partisan battle. It is the slow creep of authoritarianism.

Authoritarianism rarely arrives all at once. History shows us it comes gradually, step by step. It comes when leaders elevate loyalty to themselves above loyalty to the Constitution. It comes when truth is twisted into propaganda. It comes when the balance of power shifts into the hands of one man and accountability fades away.

I recall from Civics class, that we were warned of this by our Founding Fathers. George Washington himself cautioned against placing too much trust in a single leader, writing that “liberty requires constant vigilance”. And, particularly as Christians, we know that no person should be elevated to a place of unquestioned power. The First Commandment tells us: “You shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:3).

When political movements become personality cults, it’s not only dangerous to democracy, but also, I believe, spiritually destructive.

This is not about left versus right. This is about preserving the freedoms that belong to all of us: the freedom to speak, to vote, to worship, even to dissent. Those freedoms are sacred, and they only survive if we defend them, together.

Now, I realize that some (many?) of you reading this, won’t agree with me on every issue, but I believe we can agree on this: America is stronger when no one is above the law. America is freer when no one man holds unchecked power. America is safer when we stand united—not as Republicans or Democrats, but as citizens—committed to protecting the democracy that belongs to us all.

That is how we preserve not only our democracy, but our dignity as people created in the image of God.

In the past few months, our nation has endured painful losses of two political figures: the assassination of Minnesota House Speaker Melissa Hortman, and of conservative activist Charlie Kirk.

Each act brought pain and unimaginable sorrow to their families, friends, and communities. And each offered us a chance to come together as a people in shared mourning.

But when we look at how our government, and, we the people, responded to these tragedies, there are differences that deserve reflection.

After Melissa Hortman’s assassination, markedly, words of comfort were few and late in coming. Her years of service, her leadership in Minnesota, and her devotion to public life seemed to be acknowledged only reluctantly by many.

I felt her contributions—and her very humanity—was overshadowed by partisanship.

By contrast, upon Charlie Kirk’s death, the response has been swift, visible, and strong. Statements have been made, tributes given, and in his passing he has been virtually canonized and afforded a surprising level of national significance.

There was no national lowering of the flag for Congresswoman Melissa Hortman.

Charlie’s family and supporters no doubt have found comfort in that recognition, as anyone would hope for in a time of loss. But why not for Melissa’s family?

I don’t call out these differences to diminish either life. Melissa Hortman and Charlie Kirk were very different people, with very different visions for our country, but both were children of God, both were Americans, and both left behind loved ones who grieve. Their lives were of equal worth.

I believe there is a deeper issue here, and that is this: leadership is tested in moments of loss. And in those moments, our leaders, from pulpit to podium, reveal whether they see grief as a human reality that unites us—or as a political or religious calculation that is used to divided us.

When one tragedy is treated with urgency and empathy while another is met with silence or hesitation, we risk creating a hierarchy of whose lives matter most. That is not compassion for our fellow man.

What we need—and what we should demand—is leadership that honors all who are lost, regardless of party or ideology. We need leaders that set the example, that look past red and blue, past left and right, and simply see the dignity of every person.

Because our strength as a nation is not measured solely by how we celebrate victories on the fields of battle, but by how we honor our fellow citizens in times of sorrow.

So we should remember Melissa Hortman. And we should remember Charlie Kirk. But let’s also remember that grief should never be partisan.

I pray that I commit myself more to building a country where my compassion is not divided by politics, but is shared generously. I hope you can too.