Social media can be a strange place. Normally, I only post pictures of fish I’ve caught, a beautiful sunset, or my family. Those kinds of posts usually bring smiles and likes, nothing too controversial. But last week, I felt compelled to post something different.
I was moved by the ministry of Charlie Kirk, a young man who boldly entered college campuses to share his Christian faith. Whatever you think of his politics, I admired that he was willing to step into the arena—like Teddy Roosevelt’s famous description of “the man in the arena”—to engage those who disagreed with him. He was willing to be vulnerable and courageous in contending for the hope he had in Christ and his conservative beliefs and values. He invited people who disagreed with him, gave them a microphone and platform, and then respectfully engaged.
But when I shared a word of appreciation for that prophetic and evangelical witness, I quickly learned why I normally stick to fish pictures. Even in the wake of his tragic assassination, the politics surrounding his name created division. Friends unfriended and blocked me. People I thought knew me well assumed the worst because I raised a tribute to someone they apparently despised. It was a stark reminder of how polarized our culture has become, and how easy it is to cancel one another instead of listening and loving.
Splitting and the Culture of Cancellation
In recent Wall Street Journal commentary, “Splitting and the Celebration of Charlie Kirk’s Assassination,” the writer notes a psychological term used by psychotherapists for what they hear in their offices daily when “anger hardens into fantasy”: splitting.
Splitting is when we divide people into categories of “all good” or “all bad.” When someone offends us or disagrees with us, we label them evil and cut them out of our lives.
Social media supercharges this tendency. One post, one opinion, one moment — and suddenly someone is “dead” to us. We unfriend, block, or cancel. And while we may not see it this way, canceling someone is a kind of social murder. It removes them from our circle of care and erases them from our world.
Jesus warned about this very thing. In the Sermon on the Mount, He said:
“You have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever says, ‘You fool!’ will be liable to the hell of fire.”
(Matthew 5:21–22)
To call someone a “fool” is to reduce them to a label, to strip them of dignity, to erase their humanity in your heart. That is the same destructive energy as splitting: we stop seeing the image of God in the other and see only a caricature.
We may not use the word “fool” much anymore, but we have a long list of replacements: fascist, Christian nationalist, Nazi, communist, racist, bigot, hater—on and on it goes. Once someone has been given one of these slur labels, they are no longer a complex human being made in God’s image. They are simply “the enemy.” And once they are “the enemy,” we feel justified in canceling them, cutting them off, or treating them with contempt.
Jesus Welcomes the Unwelcome
In Luke 15, Jesus gathers a crowd. Some were labeled “sinners,” others were tax collectors—the most despised people in society at the time. These tax collectors weren’t just IRS agents; they were Jewish men working for the occupying Roman Empire, extorting their neighbors to fill both Roman coffers and their own pockets. If there was ever a group that people felt justified in hating, it was them.
The Pharisees and scribes looked at this scene and grumbled: “This man receives sinners and eats with them.” They couldn’t comprehend why a holy man would welcome such company.
But here’s the irony: the only person in that gathering who wasn’t a sinner was Jesus. And He was the very one opening His arms, extending fellowship, and sharing meals with them.
Jesus refused to play by the rules of exclusion. He refused to label people as irredeemable. Instead, He told stories about a lost sheep and a lost coin to show that God’s heart beats for the one who is missing, the one who has wandered, the one everyone else has written off.
What We Can Learn
Those parables teach us three lessons—three “D’s” to guide our hearts and our mission.
Desire for the Lost
Do we share God’s desire to seek the lost? Every sheep matters. Every coin matters. Every person matters to God. That includes the people we’d rather avoid, the people we disagree with, even the people who hurt us.
Diligence in the Search
The shepherd leaves the ninety-nine to find the one. The woman lights a lamp and sweeps her whole house for the coin. There is intentionality and persistence in God’s search. What would it look like for us to be just as intentional—crossing barriers, stepping into uncomfortable conversations, or simply being present where people are?
Delight in the Found
When the lost are found, heaven rejoices. There’s a party for one sinner who repents. Think of that: the angels throw a celebration for every single return. How different would our communities look if we delighted in reconciliation rather than cancellation, if we threw parties for prodigals rather than writing them off?
A Better Way to See
The apostle Paul called himself the “foremost of sinners” (1 Timothy 1:15). He admitted his past as a blasphemer, persecutor, and violent man. Yet he said, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst.”
Paul wasn’t speaking from a place of elitist superiority but of humility. He saw himself as one beggar telling another where to find bread. That’s the posture the church is called to take—not arrogance, not condemnation, but grace-filled humility.
Too often, like the Pharisees, we divide the world into categories: good people and bad people, insiders and outsiders, “us” and “them.” We label whole groups as “the problem” and pat ourselves on the back for being better. But Jesus breaks down those categories. He shows us that every single person—even the ones we most want to avoid—has infinite worth in God’s eyes.
An Invitation
So what does this mean for us?
It means cultivating a heart that aches for the lost, like God’s does. It means practicing diligence in our own neighborhoods, schools, workplaces, and even online communities to reach out with love. And it means learning to rejoice when anyone takes a step toward Jesus—because heaven is already celebrating.
Instead of blocking, unfriending, or writing people off, what if we prayed for them? What if we looked for ways to connect rather than cancel? What if we remembered that no one is a lost cause in God’s eyes?
Thank God He never gave up on us. Let’s not give up on one another.
A Closing Prayer
Lord, give us Your heart for the lost. Help us to see through Your eyes, to desire those who wander, to diligently seek them out, and to delight in every soul that turns back to You. Keep us humble, remind us that we too are sinners saved by grace, and use us as instruments of reconciliation in a divided world. Amen.
Post is based on Sermon preached at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Jacksonville: The God Who Seeks The Lost (September 14, 2025).
