Rev. Jes Kast started planning for the Sunday after the election in midsummer, before her three-month sabbatical. She’d timed her leave intentionally, wanting to return to her congregation well-rested, right before one of most contentious elections in U.S. history. “I had a sense in my spirit that this next phase in ministering, whatever the outcome of the election, would require me to be as spiritually grounded as possible,” said Kast, who pastors Faith United Church of Christ in State College, Pa.

Armed with the message that Americans have become too morally liberal and strayed too far from God’s light, a few Black conservative Christians, like Pastor Lorenzo Sewell, are trying to upend the historic support of Black Protestants for the Democratic party.

“It’s a shame he missed.”

That was the first thought I had when I saw that someone had attempted to assassinate former President Donald Trump. My second thought was, “You shouldn’t think that — you consider yourself a peacemaker and pacifist.” I wondered how my Christian commitments could erode so quickly.

If you’re the type of person who discusses politics online, you’re likely to have heard of Godwin’s law. In 1990, Mike Godwin, a First Amendment lawyer, invented this rule to address a common occurrence: The longer online debate drags on, the more likely someone commits the fallacy of reductio ad Hitlerum — i.e., the comparison of someone or something to Adolf Hitler or the Nazis.

Invoking Nazis, as Godwin suggests, is a lazy way of ending a debate. I also think it’s usually motivated by a shallow understanding of history and an insensitivity toward Holocaust victims.

But there’s gotta be times when referencing the Nazis is warranted, right? I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately as U.S. politics continues down the path of polarization and a segment of Christians unabashedly preach a message of domination. We need a sharper critique of Christian nationalism and the Republican presidential candidate Donald J. Trump that’s deeper than simply labeling the former group as “Nazis” and the latter individual “Hitler.” But where do we begin?

Former President Donald Trump and Florida Governor Ron DeSantis made their cases to evangelical voters who gathered in Washington, D.C., for a pair of events on Friday, seeking an edge with a voting bloc likely to play a pivotal role in selecting a 2024 presidential nominee.

Yet, in this charged atmosphere, Jesus calls us to be peacemakers — regardless of our political leanings or party affiliation. So, what does peacemaking look like during the upcoming midterms?

When the hearings air at 8:00 p.m. Eastern on major broadcast networks and many cable news channels, I will be watching. And I hope you watch too, even if you don’t consider yourself a political wonk. These hearings will be crucial for the future of our nation and our democracy; it’s imperative that Christians tune in and encourage others to do the same.

FOR MORE THAN a century, evangelical Christians in the United States have frequently and variously imagined an apocalyptic upheaval that would usher in a new world. Evangelicals have had no shortage of appetite for cataclysmic stories, though they have differing interpretations of the biblical texts that describe the “end times,” as demonstrated by the popular appeal of the Left Behind series in the early 2000s. This craving is evident in the way that Christian visions of a final battle between the forces of darkness and light have been woven together with the conspiratorial narratives of QAnon.

In the U.S., Australia, and elsewhere, the far-right conspiracy theory QAnon is growing rapidly among New Age adherents and anti-vaccination communities. However, as religion reporter Katelyn Beaty has noted, there is explicitly Christian-sounding language in QAnon messaging. Explicit examples of the blending of Christian apocalyptic language and the QAnon conspiracies can be found in web posts and books published in the wake of the alleged “revelations” of the anonymous web poster “Q.” In these texts, Donald Trump is often presented as God’s anointed, an equivalent to King Cyrus, battling the diabolical forces of the “Deep State” (a conspiracy theory that posits a hidden government working within the legitimately elected government). The Deep State—supposedly composed of individuals such as Hillary Clinton, Pope Francis, and well-known celebrities who are often described as demonically controlled—is said to be guilty of the most savage crimes, including child sex trafficking and using their victims’ blood to extend their own lives.

Madison Muller is a graduate student studying social justice and investigative journalism at Northwestern University's Medill School of Journalism. She spoke with Sojourners' Jenna Barnett.

“I GOT TO Federal Plaza around noon, right when Trump’s speech was starting. I sat with a group called the America First Coalition. They had plugged a phone into a megaphone and were standing in a circle listening to the speech. I sat right in the middle to listen. Ten minutes in, Trump started speaking about his distrust of the media and [how they were] complicit in the ‘rigged’ election. That’s when I started getting a little bit fearful. I could see people looking at my press pass. When I said that I was a graduate student journalist, one of them said, ‘We don’t like people in grad school.’ And then they started yelling at me, ‘We hate the media! Get out of here!’

A larger group started forming in the street. I [ended up] at the front of the group when they walked to the Capitol. I saw people in bulletproof vests, people with military tactical equipment, walkie-talkies, helmets, goggles; people had batons in their backpacks. There was this acceleration toward the Capitol. I remember thinking there is just nothing that’s going to stop the momentum of this group. I was surprised by the lack of law enforcement that I saw, especially after having covered racial justice protests since May, where there’s always such a heavy police presence.