During the pandemic, my wife and I were invited by a local church to present a seminar on critically appropriating antiracism. Unbeknownst to us, an elder at the host church protested our invitation, particularly my wife’s because of her academic work in antiracism. Thankfully, the host church had the courage to resist his objections, though he ultimately chose to leave that church altogether. Still, the experience left a bad taste in our mouths. We held to the same confessional standards, we belonged to the same denomination, and I was still an ordained pastor in good standing. So what could compel an elder to resign in protest?
In the end, it became clear that the issue wasn’t theology but ideology. His resistance wasn’t rooted in Scripture or our shared confessional commitments but in the fear that my wife’s work represented a threat to his preferred cultural narrative. In other words, he wasn’t guarding the gospel; he was guarding an ideology he had come to treat as synonymous with the faith. And he’s not alone. Sadly, many in the Western church are increasingly finding themselves discipled less by the Bible and the majority-world church and more by the cultural forces that shape their newsfeeds, fears, and political identities.
The greatest danger facing the Western church today isn’t persecution from the outside but ideological captivity from within. In The Next Evangelicalism: Freeing the Church from Western Cultural Captivity, Soong-Chan Rah warns that the Western church has too often confused the gospel with Western cultural normativity. The result is a Christianity shaped more by cultural dominance, nationalism, and individualism than by the Kingdom of God. What Rah names as “cultural captivity” isn’t just sociological—it’s deeply theological. Similarly, when the Western church internalizes the values of Western ideologies, they risk replacing pastoral imagination with ideological rigidity.
Pastors are called to shepherd souls, not to recruit soldiers for a cause. Yet, in an age of polarization, political upheaval, and moral confusion, it’s become easy (even for sincere leaders) to mistake ideological loyalty for faithfulness. Ideologies (often disguised as theology) promise clarity and purpose, but they reduce complex human realities into categories of heroes and enemies, victims and perpetrators, and so on. And once that framework takes hold, empathy dies and spiritual abuse rises.
The Abuse Behind the Armor
When pastors see themselves as defenders of a cause rather than caretakers of image-bearers, the line between conviction and coercion blurs. Spiritual abuse rarely begins with malice but frequently begins with certainty. Church leaders become so convinced of their own worldview that any challenge to it is interpreted as rebellion. Bullying and manipulation become justified as “protecting the truth” or “guarding the flock.”
In this environment, confrontation is rebranded as courage and control is disguised as leadership. Congregants who question or resist are labeled divisive. Pastoral authority, meant for humble service of the truth, becomes a weapon of domination for the truth. Many pastors who fall into this pattern sincerely believe they’re doing Kingdom work, yet their ideology gives them the moral armor to wound others without remorse. In many evangelical settings, this has driven countless people to leave their churches, or even their faith, altogether. It’s no wonder that an increasing number of former evangelicals are finding refuge in Anglican or Roman Catholic traditions where they sense deeper theological rootedness and spiritual steadiness; yet those spaces are not immune from spiritual abuses either.
When ideology drives ministry, confession of sin disappears. The leader can’t be wrong because being wrong would threaten their “theological” integrity. As a result, every challenge is spiritualized as persecution. The more people suffer under this mindset, the more the leader believes they’re being “persecuted for righteousness’ sake.” It becomes a closed system that’s impervious to correction and insulated from repentance.
The Enemy-Making Machine
Ideologies survive by dividing the world into friends and foes. They thrive on conflict because conflict reinforces their certainty. For pastors trapped in ideological thinking, ministry becomes a constant battle between “us” and “them.” Critics become enemies. Former members become threats. Even orthodox pastors who see things differently are cast as deceived or dangerous. Ultimately, creedal unity is supplanted by ideological affinity.
These types of worldviews are deeply addictive because they give the illusion of moral purpose. The ministry leader is always the hero or the victim (and never the villain), resulting in the invisibility of true victims. When things go wrong, the blame always lies with others: secularists, traditionalists, mainstream media, dissenters, etc. This binary thinking creates a community bound not by love but by rage-bait or fear-mongering. People learn to conform rather than to think, to please rather than to discern.
The irony is that ideological communities often believe they’re defending truth, yet they lose the very character of truth itself: transformation, freedom, and dialogue. Ideology turns the church inward and hostile, unable to see that those labeled as “enemies” are often orthodox members of the faith.
Recovering the Pastoral Imagination
To be freed from ideological captivity, pastors must return to the vocation of shepherding. A pastor’s calling isn’t to win social media debates or resurrect some nostalgic past via a podcast but to embody Christ in truth and compassion. After all, no true shepherd focused on preaching, discipling, evangelizing, and visiting the sick has time for frequent online arguments.
Furthermore, Jesus himself defied every ideological category. He confounded political zealots, disrupted the religious establishment, and embraced those whom the majority culture excluded. His ministry wasn’t about enforcing purity or power for the sake of truth but about forgiveness and restoration in light of the truth. Consequently, pastoral ministry that follows Jesus will always resist the simplicity of ideology. It makes room for mystery, for paradox, and for the uncomfortable truth that God’s Kingdom transcends our culturally-informed categories.
Such ministry requires courage and humility. It takes courage to say, “I may be wrong,” the courage to listen, the courage to invite questions, and the courage to love those who disagree. Humility then isn’t weakness but the discipline that enables us to see the humanity of those who disagree with us. It reminds pastors that their authority is derivative, not absolute, that they serve a kingdom that doesn’t belong to them. When church leaders practice humility, the church becomes a place of freedom rather than fear or control.
Freeing the Church
When the church mirrors the ideological battles of the world, it loses its witness. When pastors speak more like pundits than prophets, they trade the cross for a platform. But freedom begins when we name and repent of our captivity. It begins when pastors humbly ask God for eyes to see: have I confused the gospel with progressivism or conservatism? Have I loved my platform more than my people? Have I sought to conquer rather than to heal?
To free the church from ideological captivity is to return to the apostolic faith and the slow, costly work of love. It means seeing people not as opponents to be eliminated but as image-bearers to be understood. It means reclaiming the imagination to believe that God’s truth doesn’t need defending through aggression but an embodiment of strength through compassion.
When church leaders are liberated from secular ideologies, they recover their true power: Spirit-empowered truth and compassion. That’s the only power that can heal the American church and free it from the captivity of its own making.
Moses Y. Lee is the lead pastor of Rosebrook Presbyterian Church in Rockville, Maryland, and a PhD student at the University of Edinburgh, where he is conducting research on Herman Bavinck, J.H. Bavinck, and Harvie Conn.
