If God Is Love, Why Are We Fighting?

Theology has always been a touchy subject. Throughout human history, few things have sparked more division, wars, and destruction than our differing views of God. It’s strange to admit that something meant to bring us closer to ultimate truth — to goodness itself — has so often been wielded as a weapon. Yet history bears it out.

Why is the view of God so controversial? Why does it cause so much harm in the world?

Maybe the answer lies in the fact that our understanding of God shapes how we believe the world ought to be. If you believe that God created everything, then your view of Him inevitably influences your view of justice, morality, authority, and even the purpose of life itself. It’s no small thing. The stakes feel ultimate, because they are ultimate.

But here’s where it gets strange — and tragic. We often act as though it is our job to force the world into conformity with our vision of God’s will. As if the Creator of the universe somehow needs us to accomplish His purposes through coercion, violence, or manipulation. As if the King of Heaven has been waiting on our political schemes, our wars, and our culture wars to usher in His kingdom.

Even stranger, if we call ourselves Christians — followers of Jesus — we have an example right in front of us showing a radically different way.

Jesus did not force society to submit to Him. He did not come with military might. He didn’t sit on earthly thrones or command political armies. Instead, He washed dirty feet. He touched the untouchables. He lifted the heads of the brokenhearted. He fed the hungry. He forgave the guilty. He loved the unlovable.

He didn’t rally political power; He laid down His life.

And yet, somehow, the religion we have often built around Him looks very different. It’s a strange thing: We have four Gospels that detail His life and ministry. We believe, as Scripture teaches, that Jesus is the visible image of the invisible God (Colossians 1:15). If that is true, then our theology — our understanding of God — should be most clearly shaped by His actions, His words, His way.

But too often, it feels far from it.

We argue, we legislate, we condemn. We form movements in His name that sometimes bear little resemblance to the way He walked among the poor and broken. We use theology to divide rather than heal, to conquer rather than serve.

Maybe the call is simpler than we make it. Maybe true theology — a true understanding of God — isn’t about winning debates or gaining influence. Maybe it’s about love.

Not the shallow kind of love that glosses over truth, but the deep, sacrificial love that Jesus embodied. A love that kneels. A love that bleeds. A love that transforms not by force, but by grace.

If we really believe that Jesus is God made visible, then the way forward is clear. Not easy, but clear.

To love as He loved.

To serve as He served.

To trust God to be God — and to simply be His hands and feet in a broken world.

Maybe then our theology will finally look a little more like Jesus.