We are not in a normal moment. We are in a civilizational shift. The ground beneath Christianity in America is moving. Biblical literacy is fading. Confidence in biblical truth is evaporating. Inside the church, confusion. Serious scholars, faithful leaders—same Bible, opposite conclusions. If trained experts can’t agree, who can? Can Scripture actually be understood? Or are we left with endless interpretations and no firm ground?
Meanwhile, the church is dividing. On one side, rigid control, tight doctrinal fences, shrinking circles of us, expanding lists of them. You must align with our system or you are outside. The gospel becomes a checklist. Faith becomes conformity. Unity is preserved by exclusion. Every issue becomes a hill to die on. Preferences become doctrines. Systems become sacred. Secondary matters become ultimate. This is not courage. It is insecurity defending itself.
Others retreat into the history. Rome, Catholicism, Eastern Orthodoxy—ancient institutions promising stability through centuries. But history is not the gospel. Traditions and human additions layered onto Scripture is not renewal. The gospel becomes trapped by tradition. One’s personal faith becomes reliant on institutions.
If not to the hard right, then many drift left. There, the shift feels compassionate. Jesus becomes a moral teacher, not the crucified and reigning king. The cross becomes an example, not sacrifice of atonement for our sin. Scripture becomes inspirational, not fully authoritative. Cultural approval becomes the measure of faithfulness. And here too, every issue becomes a hill to reshape. Sin is redefined. Repentance is softened. Obedience is reframed as oppression. Historic Christianity slowly dissolves—not with a crash, but with a smile. 
“Jesus becomes a moral teacher, not the crucified and reigning king.”
So here we stand. Legalism on one side, accommodation on the other. Harshness here, compromise there. And faithful believers are asking, “What are the hills worth dying on? What are the hills worth being wounded defending? And what are the hills we are called to live on, to build on, to thrive on?”
Not every hill is the same. Some hills are essential: Jesus is king. His death is atonement for sin. His resurrection is bodily and victorious. Salvation is by grace through faith. Scripture is God’s authoritative word. Allegiance to Jesus demands repentance and obedience. These are hills to die on. And the truths of further faithfulness are hills to be wounded defending.
But there are other hills. Hills to live on. Hills to winsomely advocate for. Hills to cultivate and flourish upon. Love of neighbor. Holiness shaped by obedience. Racial unity in Christ. Care for the poor. Sexual integrity. Human dignity. Courageous truth spoken with gentleness. We do not defend these with clenched fists. We embody them. We thrive on them. We invite the world to see their beauty.
The crisis of our time is not just moral. It is theological confusion about which hills matter most. Some are dying on the wrong hills. Others are surrendering the essential ones.
“Some are dying on the wrong hills. Others are surrendering the essential ones.”
Renewal means recovering clarity. Clarity about the gospel. Clarity about Scripture. Clarity about mission. And clarity about how Jesus stood. He was unyielding on the essentials and astonishingly compassionate toward sinners. He never compromised truth. He never weaponized it. He knew which hills were Calvary and which hills were places to teach, to heal, to restore.
This is our moment. We must know where to stand. We must know what is ultimate. We must know what is negotiable. And we must stand like Jesus, courageous, convictional, compassionate, clear, knowing which hills to die on and which hills to live and thrive upon.
