You hear it in the language—carefully chosen, softly implied, sometimes boldly declared. Even voices close to the Trump administration, like Pete Hegseth, frame the conflict with moral urgency—almost sacred, as if heaven itself has taken sides.
Hegseth has repeatedly quoted Psalm 144 to frame the conflict.
The lead paragraph of The Guardian article speaks volumes:
Brash and bellicose, he sounded more like a cartoon bully than a somber statesman. "Death and destruction from the sky all day long," Pete Hegseth, wearing a red, white and blue tie and pocket square, bragged to reporters at the Pentagon near Washington. “This was never meant to be a fair fight, and it is not a fair fight. We are punching them while they're down, which is exactly how it should be."
War, but with divine undertones. Violence, but baptized in purpose.
What if this is not a "holy war"—but a "holy drama"? Not something God is endorsing, but something He is allowing—a stage where something deeper is being exposed.
That thought didn’t come from pundits or policy briefings.
It came quietly, one early morning, while I was searching for words—scrolling through headlines, trying to make sense of another spiral of conflict in the Middle East. I reached for metaphors—Pinocchio, The Boy Who Cried Wolf—but they all felt thin.
Until I landed on a line from the Gospel of Luke.
And just like that—the noise cleared. This wasn’t just politics anymore. It was something far more unsettling.
In the synagogue of Nazareth, Jesus Christ stood before people who had known Him all His life. They knew His family. His background. His ordinariness. And that familiarity blinded them.
They couldn’t see beyond the carpenter’s son. They couldn’t recognize the Divine standing right in front of them. Familiarity didn’t just dull their perception—it sealed it.
Today, that same blindness echoes across the oceans: in a nation that calls itself Christian, that prints In God We Trust on its money, that speaks fluently about faith—the United States of America.
And yet—misses Him. Not in sermons. Not in slogans.
But in people.
In the homeless on its streets.
In the immigrants at its borders.
In the lifeless faces from Gaza flashing across screens.
In the forgotten from so-called “shithole countries.”
The least. The last. The lost.
God’s intimates—unrecognized.
When Nazareth rejected Him, Jesus didn’t soften the blow. He reminded them. God’s miracles did not go where they were expected.
They went to outsiders. To Gentiles.
Not because God changed—but because the insiders stopped seeing.
And if that pattern still holds, then we should be careful about declaring where God is at work today. Because it may not align with U.S.A. It may not follow the red, white, and blue.. And it certainly does not need the wars to prove His will.
This blindness is not abstract.
It shows up in choices—elevating Donald Trump—twice—and even calling him “chosen,” despite a life many would hesitate to call exemplary.
“Arrogant” and “Dangerous”—widely cited in global surveys, a median of 80% and 65 % of people in 24 countries, have described him. “Brute Force Imperialism”—a phrase commonly used by commentators has described his foreign policy approach.
In shows up in alliances—aligning with Benjamin Netanyahu, where strength is measured in force, while the teachings of Jesus Christ—love your neighbor as well as your enemy, do not kill—fade into the background.
And now, in marching toward the final battle at the Strait of Hormuz—with language that dares to hint at something holy.
But here’s the uncomfortable possibility: What if God is not endorsing this war—but exposing something through it?
Not a "holy war"… but a "holy drama." A stage where pride, power, faith, and blindness are all laid bare. Where nations reveal not just their strength—but their souls.
The pattern of Nazareth is not about geography. It’s about recognition. Nazareth had God in its streets—and dismissed Him.
Today, Christ is still being dismissed—in the poor, in the stranger, in the enemy you justify bombing.
And just like then, the consequence may not come as thunder. It may come as silence.
A quiet absence.
A fading sense of direction.
A slow erosion of moral clarity.
This is not ancient history. This is live.
As leaders calculate, as warships move, as rhetoric sharpens—something deeper is unfolding beneath the surface. Not just geopolitics. But revelation.
And maybe that’s the real warning. If this is a "holy drama," then no one is just an observer. Everyone is being revealed—including us.
Final Word
So before we call this a "holy war," we might want to ask—what if it’s a "holy drama."
And the real question is not whose side God is on—but whether, like Nazareth—U.S.A. have failed to recognize Him on the stage.
Content & editing put together in collaboration with Bing Microsoft AI-powered Co-pilot & ChatGPT
Head image created by Chat GPT; art design by Canva
Still photos courtesy of AFP photo/Iranian Press Center/Getty Images, Vecteezy, Kindness Blog, CNN, Getty Images, iStock, Medium, Deep Dream Generator
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