It’s easy to see why conversations about faith and politics grow heated around the holidays. Headlines from major outlets (such as USA Today) suggest avoiding gatherings, as though staying apart could heal the deep divisions in our culture. Some even point fingers, labeling those with differing political views as intolerant, hypocritical, or worse. Yet, behind these accusations lies a deeper truth about human nature, redemption, and the God who loves us despite ourselves.

Consider the common charge of hypocrisy often leveled against Christians who support flawed leaders. This criticism frequently stems from a misunderstanding of how God works. Throughout history, God has used deeply imperfect individuals to accomplish His purposes. King Saul, the leader Israel clamored for, was ultimately a warning of misplaced trust in human strength. By contrast, King David—though an adulterer and a murderer—was a man after God’s own heart because he repented and sought God’s will. Flawed men don’t disqualify God’s work; they reveal His power to redeem even the broken.

Yet our culture struggles with this. People often dismiss a life transformed by Jesus, especially when it challenges their worldview. When a party-going, agnostic friend encounters Jesus and leaves behind their old ways, the reactions are often harsh. Friends who once laughed with them now accuse them of hypocrisy. They can’t reconcile the person they knew with the new creation in Christ. Often, they project their own struggles with sin onto the one who is simply trying to love them and point them to freedom.

What they miss is the truth about sin and grace. Sin isn’t just a moral failure; it’s a chain that binds us. It blinds us to God’s holiness and separates us from Him. That’s why the Gospel isn’t about being “good enough” or “tolerant enough” to earn God’s love—it’s about the blood of Jesus breaking those chains and restoring us to a holy God.

This is where modern misconceptions about Jesus create tension. Many picture Him as a laid-back hippie offering unconditional affirmation without challenge. But the real Jesus was a radical who loved humanity so fiercely that He spoke the hard truth about sin, called people to repentance, and gave His life to bridge the chasm between us and God. His love wasn’t permissive—it was transformative.

This love is rooted in God’s holiness, not the sentimental version of love often portrayed today. God’s holiness defines His love. He doesn’t just want us to feel good about ourselves. He wants to make us whole, free us from sin, and restore us to Himself. That’s why the cross is central—it’s where God’s justice and mercy meet.

So, what does this mean for us today, especially when we’re sitting across the table from people who see the world so differently? It means embodying the same balance Jesus did: truth and grace. It means loving others enough to listen, even when they lash out. It means trusting that God is at work, even in the midst of division and misunderstanding. And it means remembering that redemption is always possible—because the same God who used a flawed king to bring about His purposes is still using imperfect people today to bring His kingdom to earth.

This Thanksgiving, instead of avoiding hard conversations, let’s approach them with humility and love, reflecting the holiness and grace of the One who called us to Himself. In a world divided by politics, fear, and anger, this kind of radical love has the power to change hearts—and maybe even bring a little healing to our fractured world.