Earlier in my walk with God, I kept asking myself—and asking Him—what was this fascination that A.W. Tozer and Leonard Ravenhill had with saying things like, “If Christ were walking the streets of today’s world…” I’m paraphrasing, but you get the idea.
It turns out, as we grow in the Lord and draw closer to becoming like Christ, as we learn what it means to live like Him and process things with His mind, we also learn to lament with God for the state of this world. We begin to see what Christ’s life would be like if He walked among us now.
It’s a rite of passage.
So this morning I woke in the early hours with a heavy pain in my heart. All I could think was how the more things change, the more they stay the same. The heaviness wasn’t just about the state of the world—it was for believers who remain unaware of the dire times we’re living in. Not because we don’t hear others warning us, but because we don’t see it through God’s eyes.
Seeing Through God’s Eyes Changes Everything
When we see through His eyes, we’re not carried away by the events of the day. We don’t waste time taking sides in futile discussions that lead to hatred and careless words. This generation lives on the internet, and our fingers do the talking for us. Everything we write reveals our hearts, our minds, and who we truly are.
My sadness deepened as I imagined Christ walking the streets of the United States or Canada today. Our generation is in worse shape than it was in the time of the Pharisees. Yet we read our Bibles and remain unfazed. To us, it’s just another day—business as usual.
But it is not business as usual for God.
He is looking at a generation worse than the people in Noah’s time, worse than those in Jeremiah’s day, and worse than the Pharisees.
As my heart ached, I asked myself: How did we get here? Why are we not learning? Why do we keep rejecting Him while convincing ourselves we’re doing great? How is it that even after Christ came, we haven’t moved past the fleshly life that began when Adam and Eve sinned?
How is it that so many of us don’t see—through spiritual perception—the challenges right here in North America to living this life and keeping our purity intact?
The worst part is that most of us don’t see beyond our own noses because we lack the activities of the Holy Spirit in us. We don’t see what He sees, so many don’t understand why we should be grieved.
What Would Christ’s Life Be Like Today?
Like Tozer and Ravenhill, I find myself asking: What would Christ’s life be like if He were to walk our cities today?
First, He would not be free to speak. He would not be free to criticize the government or the afflictions He sees all around Him. Unlike in the time of the Pharisees, He would be asked to withdraw His criticism—or else.
He would weep. Not the quiet tears He shed over Jerusalem, but the kind of grief that comes from watching us devour each other while claiming His name, living in complete contradiction to everything He taught and died for.
Christ Would Be Unrecognizable to Us
Christ would be unrecognizable in the political arena. The religious right would call Him too soft on sin and weak on borders. The religious left would call Him too exclusive and judgmental. Both sides would try to co-opt Him for their agenda, and He would refuse—not because He’s above politics, but because His Kingdom operates on entirely different principles than power, self-protection, and winning at all costs.
He would see Christians worshiping at the altar of political victory while ignoring the weightier matters: justice, mercy, and faithfulness. He would see us defending our rights while trampling the vulnerable, fighting for our freedoms while ignoring the oppressed, screaming about our values while our character crumbles.
The Personal Would Grieve Him Most
But the personal atmosphere would grieve Him even more.
At least the Pharisees tried to be holy, even if wrongly. At least in Noah’s time, people weren’t pretending to follow God while living however they pleased. Like Sodom and Gomorrah, they owned their immorality.
Today, we’ve created a Christianity where:
- We can “accept Jesus” and never be changed on the inside
- We’ve become mighty good at changing our outward behavior to look holy and speak the language
- We say we’re saved, yet have no idea what surrender looks like
- We claim to love Him, but refuse to sacrifice anything for Him
- We know all the right answers, but have hearts of stone
Why It Feels Worse Than Before
It’s worse than Noah’s time because wickedness was honest then. People weren’t claiming God’s name while living in rebellion. They weren’t inoculated against the truth by a false version of it.
It’s worse than Jeremiah’s time because the people then at least had some fear of consequence. We’ve created a gospel with no cost, no cross, no death to self. Just benefits. Just blessings. “God wants you happy.”
It’s worse than the Pharisees because they added to God’s law—we’ve subtracted from it. They made it harder to be saved—we’ve made it so easy that it requires nothing. They were self-righteous—we’re not even trying to be righteous because we’ve been told we don’t have to be since we’re “under grace.”
The Ache in My Heart
The ache in my heart is the ache of God.
What we’ve done is perhaps the most insidious form of blasphemy: we’ve taken His name, His blood, His sacrifice—and turned it into a cover for continuing in sin. We’ve made grace an excuse rather than a power. We’ve turned the cross into cheap fire insurance instead of the instrument of our death and resurrection.
Christ would walk into our churches and see:
- People singing “I surrender all” who’ve surrendered nothing
- People declaring “Jesus is Lord” who obey Him in nothing
- People claiming to be “saved” who show no evidence of salvation
- Leaders who tickle ears instead of piercing hearts
- Worship that’s entertainment, not encounter
- Sermons that comfort instead of confront
- A gospel that saves from hell but not from self
And here’s what breaks my heart most: we’ve become so accustomed to this counterfeit that we can’t even see it anymore.
When someone tries to stand out and speak the truth, Christians get offended. When someone calls for holiness, we cry “legalism.” When someone says the gospel demands everything, we accuse them of “adding to grace.”
We’ve exchanged the truth of God for a lie so thoroughly that we now call the lie “orthodoxy” and the truth “extreme.”
What Would Christ Do?
I believe He would do precisely what He did before—with more pain and holy anger in His heart:
- Overturn tables in our churches where we’ve turned His house into a marketplace
- Call out our religious performances: “You honor me with your lips…”
- Weep over our cities: “If you had known what would bring you peace…”
- Confront our leaders: “Woe to you, shepherds who feed yourselves…”
- Gather the broken, the hungry, the desperate—those who know they need more than what we’re offering
The tragedy is this: the church that killed Him then would kill Him now. Not with a cross this time—with cancellation, with accusations of being “divisive” and “unloving,” with committees and church discipline for “causing discord.”
My Burden
This ache I’m feeling—I’m trying not to feel pity for myself, but over the past few months, God has changed something in me.
Before, when I felt this burden, He would allow me to see all those He carries in His heart—those who will make up His Church, His bride being prepared for the life to come. That used to be enough.
But now I sense a shift. He’s letting me live the pain while craving to see others join me on the journey. I’m dying to see people take a stand for Him, even if it means we’re not popular. I’m longing to find those who live with holy desperation, a holy ache to the point where they don’t hold back anymore and take their place, standing in the gap.
I’m not talking about manufactured feelings or things we do “for Him.” I’m talking about people in North America who truly live for Him and are willing to allow God to break their hearts with what breaks His.
This is desperately needed.
Because if those who know better stay silent to keep the peace, then the stones will cry out—and the judgment will be even more severe.
God is aching for a remnant who are hungry for the real thing. A remnant tired of the lies we sing. Who wants to know the God who is, not the God we’ve invented.
A remnant who refuse to bow to Baal.
