News

An Old Idea Is New Again in Europe: Spiritual Formation

Evangelicals across the continent are experimenting with discipleship.

Blurry people walk past a church in Potsdam, Germany

People walk past a recently restored church in Potsdam, Germany.

Christianity Today April 9, 2025
Christoph Soeder/picture alliance via Getty Images

How do you transform European hearts? 

It’s one thing to tell people about Jesus. It’s another to get them to change the way they live and help them develop the kind of daily practices that, as the late American philosopher Dallas Willard once wrote, “actually lead to the transformation of life.”

That thought drove Michael Stewart Robb, a Munich-based American theologian who wrote a book on Willard, to found the Sanctus Institute in 2017. He wanted something—an infrastructure, an organization—to teach Christians to foster the day-to-day disciplines and practices that shape people spiritually. Today the institute brings together ministers and ministries with an interest in spiritual formation from across the continent. 

Evangelicals in other parts of Europe have started exploring and rediscovering ways of connecting with God too. From Methodist band meetings in Bulgaria to urban monks in Paris and Berlin and spiritual retreats in Portugal, missionaries, pastors, and everyday Christians are looking for ways to not only pursue converts but also help people conform to the image of Christ. 

According to Willard, who died in 2013, American evangelicals started feeling a pressing need to emphasize discipleship after World War II. Many ministers and Christian leaders felt the Sunday sermon alone, or even the Sunday sermon plus a midweek Bible study, didn’t provide people enough sustenance to really live like Christians. Churches had put too much emphasis on head knowledge and belief, not enough on formation.

Today, ideas about the importance of discipleship are widespread in the United States, Robb said. Americans can easily find books—including titles by Willard and a range of writers including Richard Foster, Henri Nouwen, Richard Rohr, Elizabeth Oldfield, Ruth Haley Barton, Barbara Peacock, Diane Leclerc, James Wilhoit, John Mark Comer, and many others—as well as retreats and seminars on the topic. Many seminaries teach spiritual direction and offer specialization in spiritual formation. 

“You can’t run a seminary in North America unless you say you do spiritual formation. It’s part of the package,” Robb said. “In Europe, you don’t really see that.”

Robb said Protestant seminaries in Europe still offer theological education as it was conceived by Friedrich Schleiermacher, known as the “father of liberal theology.” You study biblical theology, systematic theology, and practical theology. Spiritual life and individual piety never really come up. If class discussion does turn to the idea of application, professors will most likely cover issues of social or political action. 

So church leaders, including those in evangelical or Pietist traditions, often have no training in spiritual formation. But that has started to change. A growing number of educational programs in Europe help Christians—both leadership and laity—go deeper in their spiritual lives. 

The European Nazarene College in the central German town of Gelnhausen, for example, offers a certificate in spiritual formation. Several organizations in the UK provide formation retreats and training in spiritual direction as well.

The growth of interest in spiritual disciplines, practices, and habits among Christians, Robb said, results from a new openness to ideas about personal transformation.

“People are curious and searching, sometimes quite radically, for something that helps them deal with life,” he said. 

Younger generations seem both dissatisfied with the lack of spiritual formation in the churches they were raised in, Robb said, and attracted to historic Christian practices that could help them find meaning and peace amid the strain of daily life. 

In Bulgaria, Global Methodist Church pastor Daniel Topalski has resurrected an old Wesleyan discipleship practice called “band meetings” or classes. These are similar to small groups but place emphasis on confessing failures, monitoring spiritual progress, and supporting each other in the effort to live a holy life.

“These classes provide meaningful forms and structures to develop a mature Christian personality,” Topalski said. “They are about making sanctification a daily business.”

Topalski was inspired by Methodist history. As the pastor of a 100-person congregation in Varna, a city on the country’s Black Sea coast, and presiding elder for the Bulgaria Annual Conference, he’s been thinking since 2011 about the best way to cultivate what he calls “Methodist DNA.” Topalski latched on to the 18th-century practice of having band meetings, which were made up of small groups of about five people who would confess their sins to each other and talk about where they saw the Holy Spirit working in their lives.

Reintroducing the concept to his congregation, Topalski emphasized that the meetings weren’t about information but transformation. 

“Christianity isn’t just theory,” he said. “It’s about the state of our souls.” 

Slowly but surely, people signed up. He organized four bands, each with fewer than a dozen people, and trained four leaders to lead them. They meet after worship on Sundays and help each other “go further,” Topalski said. 

In Paris, Americans Paul and Jordan Prins are looking back to a different period of Christian history to recover practices of spiritual formation. They’ve adapted the Rule of Saint Benedict, established for a monastery in Italy in the 6th century, to help them live more like monks in a modern European metropolis. 

When the Prins landed in Paris in 2016, they went through a difficult period trying to plant a church in one of Europe’s densest urban environments, the third arrondissement, where more than 32,000 people live in less than half a square mile on the right bank of the river Seine. As they struggled, they wondered what it meant to live as Christians in this context. They talked about being more intentional about spiritual practices and started experimenting with fasting and contemplative prayer.

Now the couple is part of a network of Christians exploring similar spiritual formation efforts in urban environments in Germany as well as in the UK, Ireland, Sweden, and Italy. The Urban Monastics, as they call themselves, try to combine ancient spiritual practices with everyday, mundane acts of grace and goodness, including basic hospitality. 

“Our motto is to be present with God and present with others,” said Paul, who has a degree from Bethel Seminary near Minneapolis. “It’s a way of life that says Christianity is about more than salvation, but experiencing that God is present in the city.”

The Prins lean on traditionally Catholic forms of spiritual practice more than other evangelicals do, but they’re not the only Americans in Europe who have felt the need to emphasize formation. 

Benjamin Seidl, the European regional director of the Florida-based mission-sending agency New International, said life in a cross-cultural context raised critical questions about the spiritual formation of missionaries. 

“We spent years assessing the overall spiritual health of our organization,” Seidl said, “and we realized we needed more to help our missionaries rediscover what it means to be formed in light of the gospel in a cross-cultural context.” 

The leaders of New International, though, didn’t have immediate clarity on which practices would help with formation. Should they require missionaries in eight European countries to practice morning devotions? Small groups? Contemplative prayer? Fasting?

“We asked ourselves, Do we even know what spiritual formation is?” Seidl said. “It’s such a diverse and diffuse thing. There’s no clear direction for how it should be done for people who live this weird, mysterious, beautiful, and sometimes chaotic European life.”

New International is still in the process of answering that question, but the organization has started doing regular retreats, setting apart dedicated time for missionaries to focus on their own spiritual lives. When Seidl spoke with CT, his wife, Jasmin Seidl, was attending a “soul-care retreat” in Portugal with New International missionaries. 

Jasmin said the retreat incorporated spiritual formation by way of guided reconnection to God, self, and others. “This was done by quiet times of rest and self-reflection, guided prayer, lectio divina, meditation, and the exchange of personal insights in a group setting,” she said. 

The retreat also included an entire day of silence and solitude. Other initiatives New International is exploring include mental health support and counseling. 

Not everyone fully agrees with the new emphasis on spiritual formation, however. In the Czech Republic, confessional Lutheran pastor Ondřej Stroka and his wife, Kimberly, expressed some skepticism. 

For years, they said, their church in the northeastern part of the country had all kinds of programs, such as Bible studies and prayer groups, to help people grow deeper in their faith.

“People were just used to doing these things and not giving any thought to the reason why,” Kimberly said.

While the Strokas welcome rediscovering ancient liturgy or biblical habits, they’re not sure these efforts brought the benefit they were supposed to. Spiritual practices became social obligations. Many gatherings became formulaic and rigid. Sometimes they seemed burdensome—introducing a kind of legalism into the community that contradicted the things the Strokas said they believed.

“We preach the gospel, Christ crucified,” Ondřej said. “We don’t want people to get the impression that if you don’t go to events that God will punish you.”

Back in Munich at the Sanctus Institute, Robb has been thinking about the meaning of gospel too. For him, the big concern is not that people add too many requirements but that the idea can get a bit thin. 

“The orthodox evangelical understanding,” he said, “is something more than mere conversion. It’s about moral formation and dying to self.”

Intellectual assent to the message of Christ can’t be the end of things, in Robb’s view. It should catalyze discipleship and formation. Christians and congregations can develop practices that bring powerful change. 

“The work of the Spirit will be working through what the individual is doing and what the congregation is going to be doing,” Robb said. “Obviously that has an effect on the kinds of churches that you can have on the continent and the kinds of transformation you will or won’t see.”

Spiritual formation can change European hearts, he believes. And that could change Europe.

News

Teacher Who Was Angry About Abortion Pleads Guilty to Attempted Assassination

The substitute teacher believed his death would be meaningful if he killed Brett Kavanaugh.

Nicolas Roske in a Maryland police station confessing to the attempted assassination of Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh.

Nicholas Roske turned himself in to Maryland police and confessed his plans to try to assassination a Supreme Court justice.

Christianity Today April 8, 2025
U.S. District Court for the District of Maryland

A 29-year-old man pleaded guilty on Tuesday to attempting to assassinate Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh in 2022. 

Nicholas John Roske, a substitute teacher who was raised in a nondenominational evangelical church in Los Angeles, California, traveled across the country with a 9 mm Glock, two magazines of ammunition, a tactical vest, a knife, a face mask, pepper spray, zip ties, and tools to break in to the Kavanaugh home in Chevy Chase, Maryland. 

Roske texted his younger sister he loved her before going through with his plans, though, and she convinced him to call 911 instead. He was arrested around 2 a.m. on June 8, 2022.

“I’ve been mentally ill basically as long as I’ve been an adult,” Roske told the arresting officer. “And I’ve been wanting to have a sense of purpose for a long time.”

Roske said he was angered by news the Supreme Court was going to overturn Roe v. Wade and allow states to regulate abortion. He read about the draft of the Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization decision that was leaked online in May 2022 and started making a plan. 

“What was your plan?” a detective asked him.

“Break in, shoot him, and then shoot myself,” Roske said.

Roske told police he thought abortion was a civil rights issue.

“I was under the delusion that I could make the world a better place by killing him,” he said.

According to the transcript of Roske’s confession, Roske also said he was angry the Supreme Court might loosen restrictions on purchasing guns, making it easier for people like him to acquire weapons. He was able to buy a pistol from a California gun store even though California has some of the strictest gun laws in the country and Roske had been deemed a threat to himself or others and placed in involuntary psychiatric care three times as an adult.

Roske thought about suicide a lot and made multiple plans to end his life, including once planning to drive off a cliff, he told police.

In 2022, he was planning to die again but thought his suicide should somehow be meaningful. He researched the possibility of killing someone convicted of sexually abusing children, but he ultimately rejected the idea and turned to plans to assassinate Kavanaugh.

The Los Angeles Times reported that Roske was homeschooled until around age 13 and attended Shepherd’s Community Church, a nondenominational church that has since relocated, merged with another congregation, and become part of the Evangelical Free Church of America. 

Roske was part of the youth group and memorized Bible verses with Awana, a classmate said. 

It is unclear when Roske began to be angered by conservatives on the Supreme Court. After graduating from a public high school, he studied philosophy at Cal State Northridge, about 10 miles from his parents’ home in Simi Valley. He worked for a while as an office manager at a pest control company before becoming a substitute teacher. He told police he had only a few friends and hadn’t spoken to any of them recently.

Roske lived with his parents but described his relationship with them as “strained.” When he registered to vote in California in 2022, he did not affiliate with any of the six political parties in the state. Roske told police he did not consume a lot of news but followed the stories about mass shootings in Buffalo, New York, and Uvalde, Texas, and the Supreme Court battle over abortion rights. 

News of the draft of a Supreme Court decision overturning Roe v. Wade prompted a wave of violence in 2022 and 2023. More than 50 pro-life pregnancy clinics across the US reported vandalism, including broken windows and graffiti with threatening messages. Six clinics were set on fire.

In 2023, a graduate student from New Mexico pleaded guilty to firebombing a pro-life organization’s headquarters in Wisconsin. In 2024, three activists pleaded guilty to spray-painting “If abortions aren’t safe than [neither] are you,” “YOUR TIME IS UP!!,” and other messages on the walls of a pregnancy center in Florida. 

Roske said he spent a month planning to kill Kavanaugh, buying equipment online, visiting a local gun store, practicing shooting at local range, and searching “assassin skills” on Google.

But he told police that when he saw security outside Kavanaugh’s home, he realized he hadn’t actually planned very well.

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” he said. “It just hit me that, like, this isn’t just something in my head. This is real.”

President Joe Biden signed a law giving Supreme Court justices around-the-clock protection by the US Marshals a few days later.

Roske’s sentencing is scheduled for October. He faces a maximum possible sentence of life in prison.

Books

Nominate a Book for the 2025 Christianity Today Book Awards

Instructions for authors and publishers.

Christianity Today April 8, 2025
Pixabay, Pexels / Edits by CT

Dear publishers and authors,

Each year, Christianity Today honors a set of outstanding books encompassing a variety of subjects and genres. The CT Book Awards will be announced in December at christianitytoday.com. They also will be featured in the January/February 2026 issue of CT and promoted in several CT newsletters. In addition, publishers will have the opportunity to participate in a promotion organized by CT’s marketing team.

Here are this year’s award categories:

1. Apologetics/Evangelism

2a. Biblical Studies

2b. Bible and Devotional

3a. Children

3b. Young Adults

4. Christian Living / Spiritual Formation

5. The Church / Pastoral Leadership

6. Culture, Poetry, and the Arts

7. Fiction

8. History/Biography

9. Marriage, Family, and Singleness

10. Missions / The Global Church

11. Politics and Public Life

12a. Theology (Popular)

12b. Theology (Academic)

In addition, CT will be naming a Book of the Year, chosen from the entire pool of nominees by a panel of CT editors.

Nominations

To be eligible for nomination, a book must be published between November 1, 2024, and October 31, 2025. We are looking for scholarly and popular-level works and everything in between. A diverse panel of scholars, pastors, and other informed readers will evaluate the books.

Authors and publishers can nominate as many books as they wish, and each nominee can be submitted in multiple categories. For larger publishers (those with 50 or more employees), there is a $40 entry fee for each nomination (defined as each title submitted in each category). For smaller publishers (those with fewer than 50 employees), the entry fee is $20 per nomination. And for self-published authors, the entry fee is $10 per nomination.

To enter your nominations, click here to access the submission form (which will require logging into a Google account). You will be asked to include contact information, the title and categories for each nominee, PDF attachments, and an estimate of the resulting nomination fees, based on the payment scale mentioned above. We will verify these totals and begin sending payment invoices in early June.

Finalist books

If your book is chosen as one of the four finalists in any category, we will contact you and ask that you send a copy of the book directly to each judge assigned to that category. We will provide mailing addresses for each judge.

Deadline

The deadline for submitting nominations is Thursday, July 3, 2025.

Questions about any aspect of the process? Email us at bookawards@christianitytoday.com.

Thank you!

Christianity Today editors

Ideas

Institutions Don’t Maintain Themselves

The church and other institutions that give our lives shape require our commitment, our forgiveness, and our work.

A collage of an institutional building held up by people instead of columns.
Christianity Today April 8, 2025
Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Getty

Of the church, Dietrich Bonhoeffer says, we should come to expect everything and nothing: everything because it is Christ’s body on earth and nothing because, even so, it is composed of broken, sinful people. 

For all that brokenness, the church is the institutional context in which we come to understand God, ourselves, and the world. But it is not the only institution that shapes us—we are shaped too by marriage, family, our local communities, state and national citizenships, schools, professions, summer camps, athletics, and more. By the same token, the church is not the only institution that disappoints us.

At their best, all these institutions can have lasting, meaningful influence on their members. They can call us to a higher standard of character and orient our lives. But the flip side of that kind of investment is that when things go wrong, the fallout can be immense. 

The United States (and the West more broadly) is undergoing a long crisis of confidence in almost all our institutions. For many this includes the church, but it also goes much further. Revelations of sexual abuse by Roman Catholic clergy were shocking decades ago, but now it seems there’s always some major institution in the midst of some horrible scandal. 

The result is a vicious cycle: We spot decay in our institutions and so lose faith in them. Once we lose faith, we become less interested in reform and renewal.  Decay further proliferates. Now we’re at a nadir of institutional trust, and the higher our hopes for an institution, the worse the disappointment when they’re not met.

Looking beyond church and state, maybe the most conspicuous example of this cycle is the precipitous decline in marriage and birth rates across the developed world. After all, many reason, why chance the calamity of a broken home if you don’t begin with the conviction that family is an institution worth the risk? The rise in family estrangement—of  adults going “no contact” with their parents rather than working through mild and mundane offenses—is a related phenomenon.

Jesus told Peter to forgive the brother or sister who sins against him “not seven times, but seventy-seven times” (Matt. 18:21–22). I’ve come to think Christians have some obligation of forgiveness to our institutions, too—some duty of love and sacrifice to preserve and repair these rightfully time-honored ways of organizing and shaping our lives.

Of course, this is easier said than done, as I’ve learned firsthand with my alma mater, Wheaton College, which provided simultaneously the most edifying and disappointing experience of my life. 

After transferring to Wheaton from Seattle University at the end of freshman year, I first knew I was in for a culture shock during a get-to-know-you activity in introductory art-survey class. In the style of the poem “Where Im From,” my classmates began offering paeans to their places of origin. Some common themes quickly emerged: corn fields, private Christian schools, youth groups, and the wry, mildly self-deprecating humor characteristic of Midwestern evangelicals. 

I didn’t hear anything that remotely resonated with my own upbringing in secular Seattle. But then, I’d come to Wheaton under different circumstances than most.

For many students, Christian college is the capstone of a childhood centered on spiritual formation. It’s where you go to finish years of initiation into American Christianity. But for me, it was a place to start. I’d come to real faith in young adulthood through spiritual crisis at the conclusion of a long series of painful events. That was how, at the end of my first quarter of college in Seattle—spiraling, unable to save myself, desperate for a change—Wheaton seemed like just the institution I needed. 

I don’t regret that choice, but Wheaton could not and did not meet my hopes. The transfer proved to be a difficult adjustment. Yet now, when asked where I’m from, I say that even though I lived in Seattle for 19 years, 4 years was enough to make me identify with Wheaton, Illinois. 

Wheaton as an institution challenged and even disappointed me. It was often socially alienating and particularist. Yet it also made me who I am today, and for that I have a deep sense of gratitude—and duty. I love Wheaton, and learning to love Wheaton taught me to better love the church and all the other thick institutions that, while never perfect, give life meaning from generation to generation. It taught me how to commit.

Becoming part of the church universal requires that commitment. This may not always mean staying in the same local congregations, but it does mean loving institutions that will disappoint us and being vulnerable with people as broken as ourselves. The faults of these institutions are real and often serious, sometimes so serious that we are justified in losing trust, maybe even in leaving or shutting the whole thing down. 

Yet more often, I think, faults are reparable, and we must repair them if we want to have a society that can be called humane. Where did we ever get the idea that these institutions would somehow maintain themselves? That they would always be there for us, meeting all our hopes, in perfect working order, without repair or forgiveness from us?

The church is unique in its indispensability, but it is not alone among valuable institutions full of broken, sinful people. We must learn to expect institutions to disappoint us without losing appreciation for what they do achieve. Institutions—especially those that facilitate our worship, sanctification, and education—are worth the striving, the hardship, even sometimes the pain. The reality is that when we fail to forgive and to maintain the good institutions that shaped us, we suffer—we are suffering now. It is commitment to these flawed yet essential institutions that makes communal life possible.

James Diddams is the managing editor of Providence: A Journal of Christianity & American Foreign Policy. His website is jamesdiddams.org.

News

Russian Pastors Risk Prison to Oppose War in Ukraine

Putins government doesnt allow criticism. These evangelical leaders are speaking out anyway.

Soldier in front fire in Ukraine-Russia conflict.
Christianity Today April 8, 2025
Fadel Senna/AFP via Getty Images

Bishop Albert Ratkin knows his time could be running out. He opposes Russia’s war in Ukraine, and the Kremlin is watching him. 

Russian security forces searched both his home and his Pentecostal church in 2023, confiscating ten computers and other devices. In June 2024, the government added Ratkin, the pastor of Word of Life Church about 90 miles southwest of Moscow, to an official list of foreign agents. To the government, Ratkin is now foreign agent No. 814.

Ratkin believes Moscow is targeting him for his position on peace. 

He has promoted antiwar beliefs in interviews in Western media outlets and on his Russian-language YouTube channel.

“Christians should not be involved in the war,” he said, “and should not support the war.”

Publicly opposing the invasion of Ukraine can be costly in Russia. President Vladimir Putin doesn’t tolerate dissent, and people who oppose him have a habit of dying under mysterious circumstances.

But Ratkin continues to speak his mind. 

“My conscience is more important for me, and my faith also,” he told Christianity Today. “That is why, as a religious leader in my country, I cannot keep silent.”

As Russia keeps pushing the fight forward in Ukraine—and refusing the terms of a cease-fire suggested by US negotiators—a small but fierce band of religious leaders continues to speak out against the war. Many are evangelicals, inspired by their faith to take great personal risks.

Russian security officials raided the home of Pentecostal pastor Nikolay Romanyuk on the outskirts of Moscow in October. Romanyuk faces up to six years in prison for “public calls to implement activities directed against the security of the Russian Federation.” He said in a sermon that Christians should not join Russia’s war in Ukraine and explained he opposed the invasion “on the basis of Holy Scripture.”

According to Norway-based human rights organization Forum 18, Russia “has used a range of tactics to pressure religious leaders into supporting the renewed invasion of Ukraine.” This includes jailing and fining religious leaders.

Ratkin has seen a range of pressure tactics. In 2020 alone, his church fought a dozen lawsuits. In the last few years, Putin has pushed through additional laws censoring all criticism of the war and giving him more leverage against critics. Today, simply wearing the colors of the Ukrainian flag or holding a blank sign can lead to arrest.

Russia “has become terribly repressive,” Ratkin said, “and any dissent is prosecuted.” 

Russian Christians who disagree with the Kremlin often struggle to determine the best course of action. Which actions will make a difference? Which will only lead to suffering?

“Many Russians have ended up in jail and ended up dead,” said Andre Furmanov, an evangelical pastor in Vyborg, near the Finnish border. “We are still going to speak the truth, but we need to be smart and very, very wise about choosing the hills to die on.” 

Furmanov focuses his energy on helping men in his church appeal for religious exemptions from the military draft. He has written letters to the government that have resulted in church members securing alternative service in hospitals and retirement homes. He also posts on social media, stating his opposition to the war, but he avoids public protests due to their limited effects. 

Other Russian Christians have decided they have to leave their country. Baptist pastor Yuri Sipko fled in 2023 after the government called his sermons “enemy propaganda” and launched a criminal case against him for his antiwar statements. 

Sipko said he didn’t trust the system to treat him fairly. If he’d stayed, he said, he likely would have been found guilty and sentenced to ten years in prison.

“The regime in Russia is … reducing civil and religious freedoms on all fronts. The government has tightened control over the activities of the church—in fact, a ban on missionary activity,” Sipko told CT. “I preferred to leave the country, and with God’s help managed to leave Russia.”

One of Sipko’s sons drove him to Minsk in Belarus—a nine-hour drive. Then he flew to Istanbul and made his way from there to Germany, where his daughter took him in. He has applied for asylum in Germany.

Ratkin’s son, David Victor Ratkin, has also left. He was arrested several times for his involvement with an opposition movement called Protest Moscow. He used to speak at the group’s meetings and protested in support of anticorruption activist Alexei Navalny, who eventually died in prison.

The younger Ratkin fled to Turkey and then to Mexico and the United States. He currently lives in Louisiana, waiting for a court hearing on his asylum application.

Back in Russia, Albert Ratkin has decided to stay put and continue his agitation against the war in Ukraine. He knows there may be consequences. He thinks they could come soon. He’s speaking out anyway. 

“I think there should be a voice of the truth here,” he said. “All other things are not important.” 

News

Law and Order in Tariffs

News analysis from an evangelical and conservative insider.

U.S. President Donald Trump, accompanied by White House staff secretary Will Scharf, signs an executive order imposing tariffs on imported goods.

President Donald Trump, accompanied by White House staff secretary Will Scharf, signs an executive order imposing tariffs on imported goods.

Christianity Today April 7, 2025
Andrew Harnik, Getty / Edits by CT

This piece was adapted from a post that originally appeared on David Bahnsen’s Dividend Cafe

Many have asked how the president can unilaterally impose tariffs since the power to tax is given to Congress in the United States Constitution (Article I, Section 8, Clause 1) and since there was once a time when a bunch of colonists got really mad at a king for imposing taxation without representation. It is not a question for which I can give a good answer, because I do not have one. 

The president has used Section 232 of the Trade Expansion Act of 1962 to claim that many of the tariffs are necessary for national security. He has the right for temporary emergency tariffs if he is responding to a surge in imports, under Section 201 of the Trade Act of 1974. Congress has legislative ability to restrict and intervene in all these excesses or implementations, but let’s just say that Congress has not seemed willing to jump into all this and, well, be a congress.

A conservative legal group, the New Civil Liberties Alliance, has filed the first lawsuit. I expect many more lawsuits in the days and weeks ahead challenging the constitutional legality of some (not all) of these tariffs, and I expect that to add to the uncertainty risk premium in markets.

I am surprised by how much my phone rang during the last several days, not from clients panicking about the market but from business owners in severe distress over the impact to their businesses. Here’s a note I received from a business owner who also informed me that he had voted for President Donald Trump (I say this just to make clear his concerns do not reflect a partisan hostility—quite the opposite): “It’s exhausting and demoralizing to have spent more than ten years building a business, survive Covid craziness, and finally really be hitting our stride as an organization and end up here. The cost of this is about 50% of our annual payroll expense.”

The stock market impact is one thing; the devastation to small businesses is another. Production is coming to a halt, global trade is in a near freeze, capital goods orders are evaporating, and the clock is ticking. I believe the president has one fatal belief driving him, combined with some bad advice coming to him. That fatal belief is that trade deficits inherently reflect something unfair. The bad advice is that we can somehow reorder the entire global trading system with top-down central planning and taxation.

I am surprised by how many people continue to believe they know what Trump is going to do in the weeks or months ahead, because I suspect that he doesn’t know what he is going to do. It is odd to hear so many so sure that he is going to back down and reverse course—or that he is never going to back down and take an off-ramp. In both cases, the people asserting so are projecting their own frustrations or opinions, or, in the best case, making predictions that have a 50 percent chance of being correct (because of how coin flips work).

Here is what I know about Trump: I believe there is a pathology at play that observers would be wise to think about psychologically and not ideologically. It seems to me a nonpartisan, objective, reasonable thing with what the American public knows about Trump (those who love him, those who hate him, and those in between) that there could be a scenario where his psychological motivations push him to double down on this and there could be a scenario where they push him to seek an off-ramp. Those psychological motivations are the same in both possible scenarios.

David Bahnsen, managing partner of The Bahnsen Group and an influential leader in Republican circles, hosts a weekly National Review podcast.

Ideas

Why Scandal Matters

Recent controversies at Wheaton College and Regent College give us opportunity to reflect on our reputation in a watching world.

Two rows of university buildings with a few scribbled out
Christianity Today April 7, 2025
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: Unsplash, Getty

Over the past few weeks, two Christian universities have been roiled by controversies at the boundaries of Christian speech. In one episode, Wheaton College’s social media team congratulated alumnus Russ Vought for his appointment to the Trump administration. After some alumni objected, the university deleted the post while clarifying its political neutrality. The backlash from the school’s conservative constituency was swift: An open letter raising concerns about Wheaton’s “institutional drift” went semi-viral, garnering around 2,000 signatories.

North of the border, Regent College faced similar dynamics after canceling a lecture on colonialism by British theological ethicist (and my doctoral supervisor) Nigel Biggar. Like Wheaton, Regent’s decision appeared to respond to complaints that the talk might make the school appear sympathetic to British colonialism.

Though Biggar’s work interrogating colonialism has generated controversy, Regent’s decision was surprising: Biggar is among Regent College’s most influential alumni. Less surprisingly, backlash against the backlash ensued, and the board of Regent issued a statement apologizing for its handling of the affair and its decision to cancel the talk.

Public contests over the faithfulness of Christian institutions are nothing new: World Vision, InterVarsity, Cru, and other organizations have been swept up in various controversies over the past decade. However, our shifting cultural landscape has changed the texture of these latest dramas. Opposition to Regent and Wheaton has been inflected by concerns about their capitulation to “cancel culture” even while critics have triumphed in its demise.

Cancel culture is perhaps best understood as license to engage in social punishment, often as a means of enforcing hotly contested norms of speech or conduct, for indiscretions or wrongdoings that were likely to escape formal institutional mechanisms. As a form of reputation management, “cancellation” was effective when it involved a sufficiently large number of people. As a result, “cancellations” were often accused of employing a mob mentality that thrived in the decontextualized environment of social media.

Stigmatization deliberately penalizes people’s status for their transgressions, ruining their reputations. As Musa al-Gharbi has argued in his recent book We Have Never Been Woke, the expressive character of canceling has been especially attractive to highly educated elites for whom symbolic capital is the primary currency. But what began in the realm of symbolic punishment rarely stayed there. Employers were often subjected to similar pressure campaigns to distance themselves from their employees or even terminate them.

Insofar as the threat of cancellation extended through social media and corporate infrastructures to reshape speech patterns, it was a distinct phenomenon. But the mechanisms of reputation management it employed are universal.

In Dr. Wortle’s School, moralist and novelist Anthony Trollope distills Victorian anxieties about affiliating with morally tainted people, anxieties that cancel culture revived. When (true) rumors spread that a teacher is not legally married to the woman he lives with, concerned bystanders undertake a campaign persuading parents to remove their children and so escape the scandal. Despite the teacher’s extraordinary reasons for his irregular situation, the threat of moral contagion prompts the highest-status parents to withdraw their support, imperiling the school’s existence.

These cultural dynamics have played out on both sides of our political aisle the past 30 years. Some version of cancel culture is inevitable; the only question is which norms are enforced and whether the norms of Christian unity and faithfulness will prevail. Public shaming has never disappeared. Our society is simply undergoing whiplash from changing which transgressions we think deserve recrimination.

In 1 Corinthians 8, Paul admonishes the congregation to take care that the freedom to eat food sacrificed to idols does not become a stumbling block to those who are weak (v. 9). The logic beneath Paul’s exhortation is complex but worth revisiting in light of contemporary disputes about the boundaries of Christian discourse.

The possibility of the “weak” being scandalized by the “strong” arose because Christians had different levels of knowledge about the gospel’s relationship to pagan sacrifices. The strong knew the gods to whom the Corinthians sacrificed were not real. Yet this knowledge did not mean they could be indifferent to other Christians. “Those who think they know something,” Paul writes, “do not yet know as they ought to know” (v. 2). Knowledge puffs up, he says, but love edifies (v. 1).

Instead, those who are strong, or theologically knowledgeable, must conform their conduct to the expectations of the weak, who might otherwise emulate the strong and eat meat sacrificed to idols while falsely believing that the gods to whom such food is sacrificed are real.

In acting as a “stumbling block” against which the weak fall (v. 9), the strong do not simply make a mistake: They strike the consciences of the weak (v. 12), inflicting the same blows on the brothers and sisters “for whom Christ died” (v. 11) that Christ suffered in his passion (Matt. 25:40; Matt. 27:30; Luke 22:63).

Paul’s complicated moral reasoning underscores the lengths Christians must take to maintain unity with each other. Setting aside our own liberty for the sake of others’ consciences is a distinctive mark of our Christian witness, a sign that we are empowered by the Spirit to conform to Christ’s sacrificial love. Paul enjoins the strong to accommodate the distorted misperceptions of the weak. They are wrong, but the fragility of their consciences requires medicines and cures that are more patient, more deliberate, and more private than belligerent assertions of our freedom.

Paul’s pastoral admonition has been worked out across the course of the Christian tradition through the framework of “scandal,” which names the threat that appearances pose to people’s confidence in the truth of the gospel. As Jesus says in Luke 17, it would be better for wrongdoers “to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around their neck than to cause one of these little ones” (v. 2) to be scandalized, to stumble and fall from faith.

This most obviously happens through misconduct that becomes public—as we see from how media coverage of church leaders’ wrongdoings undermines people’s confidence in the gospel. But it also happens when the norms of Christian conduct are simply unclear, when one constituency knows that Christian freedom permits conduct other Christians find offensive.

The logic beneath scandal also underwrites the social character of discipline. Because Christians are bound together, one person’s reputation shapes how the entire community is perceived—which means communities must hold wrongdoers accountable by publicly chastening publicly known sins.

Public wrongs by leaders are to be corrected publicly (as Paul corrects Peter in Galatians) so that everyone who sees them might “fear” and be chastened against participating in the same kind of wrong (1 Tim. 5:20, ESV). A “little leaven leavens the whole lump,” Paul says, as he enjoins the church to both mourn and separate a wrongdoer (1 Cor. 5:6, ESV). Paul does not object to associating with unbelievers who engage in sexual immorality or greed, but he admonishes the Corinthians to not associate with those who bear the name of Christian while their lives contradict the gospel (v. 11), in order to ensure that the public reputation and message of Christianity is not confused or distorted.

The imperative to avoid scandal means that it is not enough for Christians to be good; they must appear to be good as well. In 2 Corinthians 8, Paul writes that he and Titus are bringing along a third party as they carry money from the churches in Macedonia, on the grounds that he aims at what is honorable “not only in the eyes of the Lord but also in the eyes of man” (v. 21).

Christian conduct demands going beyond the basic structures of right and wrong, sanctified or sinful. Christians are bound to live coram Deo, before the eyes of God, and coram hominibus, before the eyes of the Christian community and all those who (with more or less charity) watch to see whether they will stumble and fall.

We cannot map Scripture’s concerns about scandal and reputation directly onto controversies surrounding cancel culture. There are important differences between intimate communities like the church in Corinth and the technologically diffused, global public before which our conduct can be displayed today. Yet for institutions looking to faithfully navigate contemporary controversies, scandal offers resources that are more theologically potent than the seesaw oscillation between cancel culture and demands for free speech prevalent in so much of our online discourse.

For one, the substance of a controversy is more fundamental than the social dynamics that often take precedence. The cross of Jesus Christ is both foolishness to the Greeks and a “stumbling block” to the Jews (1 Cor. 1:23), yet it forms the center of the church’s life. Such a conviction puts real boundaries on what Christian institutions may reasonably accommodate with respect to their reputations. When push comes to shove, they must welcome the lower status that comes from adhering to the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ in its fullness.

If they have legitimate Christian concerns with maintaining appearances, institutions are also perennially tempted to try to save face while sacrificing their substance. Paul’s concern for the integrity of the church’s witness before the eyes of the world is not about preserving respectability but about preventing unnecessary offenses that make it harder for unbelievers to convert. Christian institutions embroiled in controversy will find their credibility in question—at which point they will be able either to (foolishly) boast in the sufferings they have undergone for Christ, as Paul does to buttress his authority in 2 Corinthians 11:16–33, or lose the confidence of their constituency outright.

But much of the scandalizing conduct of Christians happens in arenas where Christians have not yet reached the unanimity of judgment and mind that Paul calls us to (1 Cor. 1:10; Phil. 2:2). Such ambiguities mean that navigating scandal tests a community’s willingness to “keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace,” as Paul writes to the Ephesians (4:3).

The imperative to maintain peaceful and orderly relations in the midst of correcting or confronting others requires Christians and their institutions to value two goods that would suffocate the worst excesses of cancel culture: patience and privacy. Paul admonishes the Corinthians not to judge anything “before the appointed time” (1 Cor. 4:5), which Christians have long taken up as a caution against rash inferences about people’s character or conduct.

When institutions make public missteps, it can be hard to know whether to blame deliberate malfeasance or incompetence. In many cases, the communal judgment that we now associate with cancel culture happens so swiftly that it fails to leave time for institutions to offer responsible accounts of their conduct. The “pile on” of a social media mob is fueled by our impatient unwillingness to consider realities beyond immediate appearances.

At the same time, working through the complicated dynamics of disagreement between different constituencies requires trust, which privacy helps preserve. Jesus is explicit that private wrongs should be corrected privately before they are brought to whole communities (Matt. 18:15–20) so that offenders are not unnecessarily deprived of their good name. Working through public disputes through the same process operates, I think, on similar principles: Publicity raises the stakes for everyone and makes winning concessions and concord more difficult.

Private speech about controversy cannot be the end of the matter, though. Insofar as a controversy becomes public, it eventually requires public resolution. This can require institutions to clear the names of those involved to the extent that they are able. If cancel culture is deliberately predicated on soiling people’s names, Christian forms of disaffiliation must take into account the reputational damage that those people suffer and compensate them accordingly.

When institutions try to clandestinely cancel speakers, they invite onlookers to think the speakers are unacceptable. Public actions thus need public justification, and if universities reverse course, they need to offer similarly public accounts as to why.

University controversies also raise questions about unique institutional and pedagogical responsibilities. Churches have an obligation to proclaim the fullness of Christian doctrine—sometimes even by seeking to “silence” false teachers who are leading people astray (Titus 1:11). Christian universities have different (if related) ends: They are oriented toward the discovery of the truth, both within the scope of special revelation and beyond.

Christian universities are not indoctrination centers but testing grounds for ideas so that students can learn to distinguish between the true and the false in their arenas of study. Mature Christian students need to consider ideas at the edges of acceptability so they can better see the beauty and truth of God’s revelation and have deeper confidence in it for the sake of the church and the world.

Ambiguities about what Christian faithfulness demands mean such controversies are not likely to abate any time soon. Neither Christian institutions nor their constituencies can escape the burdens of judgment, even through uncertainty, fallibility, and disagreement.

As Augustine wrote in City of God, judges who confront their own uncertainty cannot abdicate their role—but they should submit to the necessity of judgment only with lamentations, crying out to God, “From my necessities deliver me.” If not many of us are called to be teachers (James 3:1), we should be equally cautious about participating in punishment of such teachers.

For, as I have had frequent occasion to say, the manner in which Christians argue among ourselves is as much a part of the witness to the world as where we arrive.

Matthew Lee Anderson is an assistant research professor of ethics and theology in Baylor University’s honor program and author of Called into Questions: Cultivating the Love of Learning in the Life of Faith.

Church Life

Christian Converts Pay the Price to Marry in the Faith

Three first-generation Indian Christians face strong societal and familial pressures.

A collage showing a wedding and a disapproving family.
Christianity Today April 7, 2025
Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Getty, Pexels

Rethinam, a 45-year-old woman from rural Tamil Nadu, the southernmost state in India, hates looking at her wedding pictures from two decades ago. “I look sad in every photo,” she said. 

A first-generation Christian from a Hindu background, Rethinam, who goes by one name, was the only member of her family to become a Christian after she was miraculously healed from a persistent illness. She then met her future husband, Augustine Arumugam, through India Campus Crusade for Christ as he evangelized at her college. Also a former Hindu from Tamil Nadu, Arumugam had always wanted to marry another Christian from a similar background.

Yet when he sent a formal proposal to her family expressing his desire to marry her, they were furious. Accusing her of being in love with a man outside their religion and caste, they immediately fixed a marriage for her with her sister-in-law’s brother to stop her from marrying Arumugam.

Facing persecution from her family, which included physical abuse and emotional blackmail, Rethinam ended up running with Arumugam to a town two hours away to get married quickly by a pastor without their family or friends present. Their marriage led to years of estrangement from her family.

Today, Hindus who convert to Christianity still face immense struggles to marry in the faith. Their numbers are few, with only 0.4 percent of adults being Hindu converts to Christianity, according to a 2021 Pew survey. Meanwhile, 12 Indian states have anticonversion laws in place, leading to fines or arrests for those accused of forcibly converting people. Family and community pressures are also still strong, although Rethinam noted that increasing education levels and exposure to media have caused most people to become more open to marriages for love.

For Rethinam and the two other Hindu converts CT spoke with, the importance of marrying fellow Christian outweighs the suffering they face. They sought to be equally yoked with their spouses (2 Cor. 6:14) and feared that by marrying non-Christians, they could be swayed back to the Hindu faith. In many cases, the church became a surrogate family as their own families rejected them.

“I had to go through a lot of physical and emotional torture,” Rethinam said of the period before her marriage. “There was no church, no fellowship, and no Christians around me to help. But there was an unusual conviction that this was God’s plan and that he would bring [it] to pass.”

Before Rethinam met Arumugam, her parents didn’t stop her from pursuing her new faith, as they assumed she would come back to Hinduism once she was married. But when she told her family her decision to marry Arumugam, everything changed.

They dragged her to several Hindu temples and took her to an exorcist to “cleanse” her from her beliefs. The exorcist charged them 50,000 Indian rupees ($585 USD) and rebuked Rethinam for dishonoring her family. She performed rituals that included smearing camphor on Rethinam’s forehead and chanting mantras, leaving Rethinam terrified and embarrassed.

When the exorcist failed to see a change in Rethinam’s conviction, she instructed the family to take away her Bible, seize her diplomas, and forbid her from praying. For the next few months, Rethinam said her family beat and slapped her daily. They promised to give her property and gold if she agreed to give up marrying Arumugam. They threatened to kill themselves if she went through with the marriage. With no access to the Bible and no ability to pray openly, Rethinam’s strength came from remembering Exodus 14:14, which says, “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”

At the time, Arumugam, who was in Chennai working for Campus Crusade, had no idea of the persecution Rethinam was going through. 

Unable to bear the abuse any longer, Rethinam packed her things and got on a bus to a town two hours away. Through a mutual friend, she contacted Arumugam and told him everything that had happened. Arumugam took the next train to meet Rethinam. 

Assessing the seriousness of the situation and considering the honor killings prevalent at the time, his friend advised them to get married before her parents found her. 

“That entire night, we visited every church in the vicinity in search of a registered pastor who could marry us,” Arumugam said. “We were told at 4:30 a.m. that we’d be married at 5.30 a.m. In the presence of a few people, a pastor got us married in a small house church. Instead of rings, we exchanged [a Bible].”

In the meantime, Rethinam’s family was furiously hunting her down. When they discovered her whereabouts, Arumugam’s friend was able to pacify and convince them to meet with Arumugam’s family, who were accepting of their marriage. But the next day, her family arrived with big knives, determined to take Rethinam home. A pastor, a few members from the local church, and members of the Communist Party office—which supports interfaith and intercaste marriages in India—facilitated a meeting between the families at a local church. 

Outraged, Rethinam’s family refused to accept the marriage and cursed her for betraying them. Three months later, Arumugam’s family held a formal reception for the couple, which Rethinam’s family did not attend. 

For the first few years after their marriage, Rethinam received painful letters full of threats and curses from her family before they cut off all contact with her. Rethinam faced heavy emotional turmoil due to their estrangement. 

“For the first six months, I would cry every night,” she recalled. “The absence of family pricked me, especially after I gave birth to my first daughter. Whenever I’d see grandmothers play with their grandchildren, I missed [my] mother.” 

She also missed important family moments, like her brother’s wedding and her uncle’s funeral.

It took five years and the death of her nephew before Rethinam’s family reconciled with her. Things between her and the family mostly returned to normal. However, in 2014, Rethinam found out that her father’s will stated he had no daughter. 

“He didn’t even acknowledge me as his daughter,” she said. “It still hurts when I think about it.”

Today, most marriages in India are still arranged, and views on caste remain deeply embedded in the older generation. Only in 2014 did India start recording honor killings instead of lumping them with murders, kidnappings, or injuries. The number of these cases is on the rise, and there is still no legislation to tackle honor-based crimes. 

First-generation Christians continue to fight silent battles to marry in the faith. Suhas Manjunath, a Hindu convert from Bangaluru is the only Christian in his entire village. The 32-year-old knew the reactions to his desire to marry a Christian would test of his faith, and his prayers for his family’s salvation intensified as he started to think of marriage. 

He faced verbal attacks from his family when he told them he would only marry a Christian and refused to let them set him up with anyone. He recalls how one Sunday his mother hid his bag and physically stopped him from attending church. This was out of the ordinary since his family had accepted his choice to be a Christian, believing that he would return to Hinduism after marrying a Hindu woman.

“To be able to attend church is a prayer I never thought I’d ever have to pray,” he said.

In a culture where most marriages are arranged by families, Manjunath found his support system within his church. Manjunath found a woman from a Christian family through a fellow church member who shared Manjunath’s profile with friends in his circle. 

At first, his family refused to accept his choice, citing social pressures from his relatives and community. They blamed his mother for letting him become a Christian and blamed the church for setting him up with a woman of whom they did not approve. After a year of constant conflict, his family finally relented and attended their son’s wedding.

During that time, the pastor and deacons of his local church played the role of Manjunath’s family, including mediating between the couple’s families and counseling the couple on how to handle conflict in a God-honoring manner.

Single female converts often have a harder time finding a Christian spouse, said Arumugam. “Hindu-convert boys easily find girls from Christian families, but it is very hard for a Hindu-convert girl to find a Christian boy to marry,” he said. He ticked off the reasons: Christian families are afraid of accepting former Hindu women who might not be familiar with Christian traditions, which is part of the wife’s job to pass on to her children. They also worry that if the girl doesn’t have her family’s support, they won’t receive a dowry. 

“Christian families are happy to accept committed Christian boys who take a stand for their faith, but the same families don’t want to take the risk of getting their boys married to Hindu-convert girls,” he noted.

Gayathri R, a 26-year-old Tamil Brahmin who became a Christian in college, is waiting for her parents to accept her choice to marry a Christian man she met through her mentor. (In Southern India, it is a common practice to write one’s surname as an initial or abbreviation.) He is also from a Hindu background but from a different caste and state.

This has been the toughest phase of her spiritual life, she said. She is close with her parents, but they have become critical of her faith, accusing Christians—and sometimes her—of converting people. 

“For many Hindu families, when their child becomes a Christian, they see it as their child being taken away from them,” Gayathri said, who lives in Chennai. “I want to bear a testimony that Jesus is a loving God and show them that they won’t lose me because of my faith.

But there are costs to pay. Gayathri is prepared to be known as “the girl who ran away” in her family circle. “It doesn’t matter what you do or what you’ve achieved. If you marry against your parents’ choice, it becomes your whole social identity,” Gayathri said. She noted that friends and mentors from her university fellowship have been a huge support in helping her navigate this season of her life.

Gayathri said she is willing to have a Hindu ceremony if her parents ever agree to the marriage. “It is a sacrifice I will have to make to honor my parents,” she said. 

It’s been one and a half years since Gayathri started waiting for her parents to accept her decision. She doesn’t know how much longer she will have to wait or even whether her parents would ever agree. “The one thing I’m sure about is that God will give me the courage to do what I need to do,” she said. 

News

The Secret Cure for a Health Care System Without a Heart

One of the last Christian medical schools in the US could change how doctors do medicine.

A doctor with her eyes closed surrounded by different hands holding medical equipment

Christianity Today April 7, 2025
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: Getty

Andrew Wai hit a breaking point as a third-year medical student. Exhausted from the pressure of doing rounds and studying for exams, he began viewing each patient as another barrier in between him and the end of his shift.

“You ask me another question?” Wai thought at the time. “That just means I’m getting home later.”

Overextended hospital staff know the feeling, and patients know what it feels like to be on the other end. US health care right now is a story of shortages, staff burnout, and unhappy patients. Between backed-up emergency rooms, overloaded nurses, and denied insurance claims, the medical system is overdue for change.

Today’s leading medical organizations are coalescing around the idea of “whole person care,” a holistic approach where doctors set out to build relationships with patients and take social, spiritual, emotional, and behavioral factors into account. 

In other words, US health care needs more compassion.

Over in San Bernardino, California, one lonely Christian medical school has been teaching this “whole person care” model for more than a century.

Loma Linda University School of Medicine is an unusual US medical school where doctors in training learn to read EKGs and pray for their patients, John Mark Comer’s The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry is required reading, and medical students can take a class on God and human suffering.

Loma Linda UniversityIllustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: Loma Linda University
Loma Linda University

Until last year, Loma Linda appeared to be the only remaining Protestant medical school granting MD degrees that still integrates faith in the education. It has been joined this year by a new medical school at Belmont University, the first Christian medical school to open in the US in more than 40 years.

Wai was in med school at Loma Linda when he noticed his failure to approach his patients as humans rather than tasks. It made him realize he needed spiritual care.

Loma Linda weaves faith into the curricula, requires chapel attendance, and draws from the approach of Seventh-day Adventist hospitals established around the world, though faculty and students are not required to belong to that tradition.

Now a faculty member at the school and an internal and pediatrics doctor at its hospital, Wai talked over lunch with students about how Christian community and spiritual habits saved him from the cynicism of such a heavy and high-pressure job.

US health economics reward a high volume of patients and not long conversations. The “whole person” approach requires a different kind of doctor than our current health system is designed for: one who listens to patients and thinks holistically about whether they can afford particular medicines, for example. But it also needs doctors with the inner resilience to endure what can feel like a crushing health care system.

Loma Linda faculty members discovered they needed to teach doctors not just how to ask the right questions and really listen to patients but how to take care of themselves.

In a lab at the medical school, first-year medical students were struggling to intubate a baby-size manikin. A faculty member showed the knot of students the delicate task of opening the mouth and finding the right size of laryngeal mask to go down such a small airway so the patient can breathe while unconscious.

Intubation is a typical medical-school drill, but across campus another—more unusual—class was beginning on this foggy morning in Southern California.

Amy Hayton, an internal medicine doctor at the local Veterans Affairs hospital and a faculty member at Loma Linda, opened her class on whole person care with prayer and lectured on how doctors can make patients in their care feel “seen and known.”

Hayton gave examples of questions to ask, like “What about this illness concerns you the most?” or “What is your source of strength?” Patients lead the conversation, she said, and a doctor shouldn’t be pushy or proselytizing. Based on student feedback, the school also recently added curriculum for having sensitive conversations with the religiously unaffiliated, or “nones.”

Conversation could cover a range of issues: Are mental health issues affecting this person’s ailment or ability to carry out treatment? Does this patient have community? Is the patient living in a neighborhood with little access to fruits and vegetables? Does the patient have a spiritual source of support?

Asking these questions leads not only to better treatment but also to better trust with physicians, Loma Linda has found.

Hayton recounted to her class a Loma Linda medical student working with a stroke survivor who couldn’t speak. When no one on the patient’s team could find out how to communicate, the medical student searched out the patient’s background and found the patient had been in a choir. With this type of stroke (aphasia), people can often sing but not talk. The patient was able to communicate for the first time since the stroke by singing a hymn with the student.

“I cry thinking about it because it was so powerful,” Hayton said to her students. “I do believe that, with Christ in you, each of you reveals something unique as you express that to your patients.”

For Hayton, practicing whole person care has kept her from frustration with US health care. Becoming a doctor requires such intense focus on performance, she said students have to unlearn some habits to “truly be present with [their] patients.” Graded simulations at the school teach students how to have a conversation with a family after a child’s death or how to sensitively navigate something as basic as an interruption while talking to a patient in pain.

The week before CT’s visit, Duke University School of Medicine’s Harold Koenig, a leading researcher on how integrating spiritual concerns improves health outcomes, met with Loma Linda staff about their curricula on whole person care.

“They’re the poster child on all of that,” he said.

More research about the efficacy and outcomes of the whole-person approach could have more schools emulating the Seventh-day Adventist school. Koenig found in 2010 that only 7 percent of US medical schools have required courses or content on spirituality and health.

“Only a handful are actually doing this,” he said. “And Loma Linda was one of the first.”

Christian medical schools have been disappearing in the United States, either by drifting from their faith-based origins or by encountering finance and accreditation troubles.

Baylor College of Medicine disaffiliated from Baylor University in 1969 and shed its Christian mission. Oral Roberts University opened a medical school and hospital in 1981 but closed both in 1990 under the weight of millions in debt.

Oral Roberts had hoped its “holistic medical approach” would draw patients for its teaching hospital, according to a CT report in 1984. But patients didn’t materialize to help underwrite the school’s budget. As Oral Roberts found, medical schools are expensive to run, and there are few to begin with: Only 160 offer MD programs in the US. By comparison, many more schools award degrees for physician’s assistants and nurse practitioners.

A few Christian universities like Liberty and William Carey have osteopathic medical schools granting DO degrees but not traditional medical schools. DO doctors tend to end up practicing primary care. Their education has a slightly different emphasis, and those programs are less common than MD programs. Jesuit schools like Loyola, Creighton, and Georgetown still make faith and holistic care part of their education.

Richard Hart, president of Loma Linda University Health, oversees the $4 billion budget and 18,000 employees between the hospitals and medical schools. “There’s very few organizations that can say that, 119 years in, we’re doing the same thing,” Hart said. “It’s always the mission versus margin issue. … How do you maintain a common philosophical commitment when you get that size?”

Working at Loma Linda since 1972, Hart remembers two times when the school considered becoming part of a larger hospital system for financial stability, but commitment to its Christian mission always kept leadership from carrying out that plan.

“Starting medical schools is tough, and right now it’s frankly become more of a business than a mission for many of these,” said Hart. “I’m not aware of any other Christian ones trying to start, but they should be. There’s something very special about that … whole person care in a Christian setting.”

Hart remembered the school absorbing doctors in training from shuttered programs like Oral Roberts and another Christian residency program in Tennessee that shut down a few years ago. When a Christian school would close, accreditors tried to send students to another Christian school, and that was often Loma Linda.

In addition to teaching doctors about empathetic conversations, Loma Linda emphasizes going to underserved populations, both in global missions and in rural areas of the US.

Loma Linda sends a high percentage of its graduates into primary care, particularly family medicine. Primary care medicine is less lucrative than specialist medicine—like urology or oncology—and often leads to burnout because of the high volume of patients doctors need to see to make their economics work.

The Department of Health and Human Services is projecting a severe shortage of primary care doctors, especially in nonmetropolitan areas.

Joseph Elkins, a fourth-year medical student at Loma Linda, wants to help address that shortage. He has applied to two types of residencies in primary care: internal medicine and family medicine.

Elkins did not grow up Adventist but, as a Christian, was drawn to the school’s emphasis on whole person care and rest in particular.

“We humans need time and space to stop and rest and worship,” Elkins said. “That’s countercultural to medicine and doctors, the way we tend to think and live.”

Spiritual practices serve as part of “Christian physician formation” at Loma Linda. Students learn from the formation classes, from small groups with other students, and from physician mentors about prioritizing prayer, service, and solitude—habits that can easily fall away when a primary care doctor is seeing 50 patients a day or when an emergency room physician is going from crisis to crisis.

But faculty members also tell students they don’t have to feel that all their spiritual grounding is gone if they miss a day of personal prayer time. Mentoring doctors tell students to look for other people in their workdays to minister to them and tell them to look for God to show up when they have no resources within themselves.

As Elkins has done rotations, finding rest has been harder than he thought. He is rotating on teams at the hospital every couple weeks, absorbing as much knowledge as he can, preparing for exams, and trying to perform well clinically.

“I remember over time gradually feeling like I was drifting from the reasons that I came to medical school,” he said. “The pressure of performing well on exams feels more real than these abstract ideas of whole person care.”

He found himself asking patients fewer questions, making less space to have conversations or to process his own emotions and experiences. What helped him recenter was being around doctors and other students who had the same objective of compassionate care.

Elkins and fellow students are becoming doctors at a time when Americans now rate the quality of their health care at a 24-year low and trust in doctors is slipping.

While health care workers were first applauded as heroes at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, the public later turned on them. Assaults on health care workers have increased, especially on nurses and in emergency rooms, so much so that hospitals began giving staff “panic buttons” to help protect them.

“Our patients don’t trust us anymore,” intensive care nurse Amy Arlund told NBC in 2021.

Loma Linda is trying to rebuild that trust. 

Medical students at Loma Linda UniversityIllustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: Loma Linda Univsersity
Medical students learning clinical skills at Loma Linda University.

Hayton, who oversees the curriculum on whole person care at the school as an associate dean, has noticed a trend in the third year of medical school when students start rotations on the wards. Their performance starts to matter a lot, and they run out of time to sit and listen to patients and care for themselves.

Loma Linda can’t completely change the intense nature of medical school. But the solution the school has found is to attach students to mentors they can trust to keep them from building up cynicism toward patients or the system they’re working in. A supportive community, Hayton thinks, is the way to counter the exhaustion of students working and studying 16 hours a day.

Across campus from Hayton’s class was one of those mentors. Wai, the internal and pediatrics doctor, was debriefing with medical students who had just finished a morning of seeing pediatric patients with him.

The students were wolfing down sandwiches and analyzing how conversations with patients had gone. One mom had been upset, saying they hadn’t run enough tests on her son with abdominal pain. Wai knew they had gone above and beyond in caring for her son, but he apologized to the mom anyway. He wanted her to feel that they were listening to her.

Then Wai cautioned the students: “How do I make sure how she responds to me is not how I respond to the rest of the day?” The students needed emotional fortitude, he said.

“Sometimes presence equals success, even if I can’t see the result of that,” he told them. At the end of lunch, Wai prayed for the students going back to their work: “Would they feel deeply loved. They are precious in your sight.”

Ideas

The Euangelion According to Trump

Editor in Chief

In those days Donald Trump issued a decree that a tariff should be taken. Was it good news?

US President Donald Trump delivers remarks on reciprocal tariffs at the White House.

President Donald Trump delivers remarks on reciprocal tariffs at the White House.

Christianity Today April 4, 2025
Brendan Smialowski / Getty

Has Donald Trump gone too far? With the stock market down 5 percent in one day yesterday and other economic losses cascading today, will his most loyal supporters thus far, evangelicals, turn on him? Depends on what evangelical means.  

After surviving the Access Hollywood tape in 2016, four indictments and a felony conviction, and criticism for treatment of immigrants, it would be ironic if tariffs, of all things, brought Trump down. A Gallup poll last September found “trade with other nations” only the 20th out of 22 issues important to voters.  

But The Washington Post’s banner headline this morning proclaimed disaster: “Onslaught of tariffs ripples across globe.” Columnists like Thomas Friedman of The New York Times said, “Trump, with his grievance-filled gut,” doesn’t understand “the U.S.-engineered global free trade system.” If so, Trump has “sown the wind, and we as a nation will reap the whirlwind.”

Friedman did not cite the Bible, but that expression comes from Hosea 8:7—“They sow the wind and reap the whirlwind. The stalk has no head; it will produce no flour. Were it to yield grain, foreigners would swallow it up.” The whirlwind is a biblical metaphor for God’s power and might: Nahum 1:3 says God’s “way is in the whirlwind.” But how do we discern, amid turbulent times, what is blowing the wind? 

The Bible doesn’t give us answers about tariffs. The Bible does give us answers about how character (Prov. 10:8–10) and thoughtful judgment carry over into decision making. It’s on those questions that evangelicals should apply discernment.

Will we? It depends on the definition of evangelical. Pollsters ask voters to self-define whether they are evangelicals, but even back in 2016, American church historian Thomas Kidd complained that (as the headline over one of his articles put it) “the term ‘evangelical’ has become meaningless.” Kidd wrote that many call themselves evangelicals because they think, “I watch Fox News, so I must be an evangelical” or “I respect religion, and I vote Republican, so I must be an evangelical.”

Some headlines have complained about “hijacking the word, ‘Evangelical.’” I’d argue, though, that Trump’s evangelical voters represent a far older meaning of the term, even though only half attend church weekly, according to a Pew survey, and nearly a quarter, “more than 17 million … don’t go to church.” 

Evangelthe root of evangelicalism, long ago meant “glad tidings,” particularly in relation to political news regarding a leader. Cicero in ancient Rome six decades before the birth of Jesus used the Greek word euangelion that way: “Does Brutus really say Caesar is going over to the right party? That is good news [euangelion].” In 9 BC, an appointee of Roman emperor Augustus used the term to show his fealty: “Augustus was the beginning of the good tidings [euangelion] for the world that came by reason of him.”

The idea was that the emperor was a savior, and all who heard that should celebrate such good news. The four Gospels in the Greek are four euangelions. Luke in chapter two of his euangelion probably played off the political meaning when he wrote concerning the birth of Jesus, “In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken.” Luke wanted us to put our trust in Christ, not Caesar.

Donald Trump won election by saying, “I am your retribution” (now on T-shirts) and “I’m being indicted for you.” The word evangelical used theologically today refers to a specific core of Christian beliefs and implies frequent church attendance, but both in loose polling usage and the word’s early history, defining Trump’s core supporters as evangelical makes sense. Many put their faith in Trump sacrificing himself for us (and taking revenge on our enemies). 

But the president’s actions, particularly since his second inauguration on January 20, have created a quandary for his supporters who actually are evangelical, defined theologically. What happens when the two euangelions come into sharp contrast?

Has Trump gone too far? I’ve thought that harsh treatment of sojourners would change many hearts, but that hasn’t happened. Some remain true believers in him. Now that he is reaching into wallets, we’ll see whether attitudes toward the new euangelion change. If tariff decisions do reap a whirlwind, what then? 

Marvin Olasky is executive editor of news and global at Christianity Today.

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