When Faith Chooses Sides: Praying for Victory or Praying for Peace

By LONNIE KING

There’s a recent faith contrast I’ve seen and I haven’t been able to shake.

On one side, you have Pete Hegseth, America’s self-proclaimed Director of War, leading prayer at the Pentagon—using language filled with strength, dominance, and the kind of conviction that assumes God is firmly aligned with the United States and its mission to destroy Iran.

On the other side, Pope Leo, standing in a very different place, saying something just as bold in its own way: that God does not honor the prayers of those who wage war.

Same faith tradition.  Same sacred text.  Two completely different conclusions.

And if I’m being honest, I find myself aligning more with Leo’s posture.  But not without some hesitation.

The Part We Don’t Always Want to Admit

Because here’s the thing…the Bible does, at times, speak of war.

There are moments where God’s people are told to prepare for battle.  Where victory is framed as divinely ordained.  Where the idea that “God goes before you” into conflict is not just implied—it’s celebrated.

And if you believe you’re on the right side of that story?

That can feel incredibly powerful.  Even righteous.

I can understand why that kind of faith resonates with people.  It offers certainty.  It offers purpose.  It offers the sense that you’re not just acting—you’re acting on behalf of God.

For most humans, that’s not nothing.

But Then There’s Jesus

The version of faith I was raised with also made a certain distinction.  I was taught that the Old Testament reflected how God dealt with Israel in a specific time and place and was ultimately preparing them for a Deliverer.  And, the New Testament revealed something fuller—something centered on Jesus—that resolved and fulfilled all the uncertainty and tribulation of the Old Testament.

But Jesus didn’t sound like a general preparing troops.  He talked about loving your enemies, turning the other cheek and living peaceably as much as it depends on you.  The trajectory—at least as it was explained to me—seemed clear:

• From violence → to reconciliation
• From tribal identity → to neighbor-love
• From divine favoritism → to inclusive grace

So when I hear modern voices lean heavily into the language of conquest and righteous destruction, I can’t help but wonder:

Why does this feel like a step backward?

Where This Gets Complicated

Here’s the part I can’t ignore anymore.

Both perspectives—the one that leans toward peace and the one that justifies force—can find support in Scripture. And that creates a problem.

Because I was taught growing up that the Bible speaks with one voice.  It was written by dozens of authors over 15 centuries, but all were divinely inspired and univocal in their message.

But I don’t experience it that way anymore.

What I see now is a collection of voices written across different times and circumstances wrestling with who God is and how people are supposed to live.

And sometimes those voices don’t say the same thing.

And It’s Not Just Christianity

There’s another layer to this that I’m still trying to sort out.

The same kinds of Christians who pray with certainty that God is on our side—who ask for strength, victory, even destruction of enemies—are often the quickest to criticize other religions for doing the exact same thing.

Especially when it comes to Islam.

Now, I’ll be honest—I don’t know Islam the way I know evangelical Christianity. But I do know this: every major faith tradition seems to have its own internal divide.  There are those who emphasize peace, humility, and restraint and those who emphasize certainty, strength, and being on the “right side” of God.

And that makes me wonder…if every religion produces both compassion and extremism, what does that say about religion itself?

Maybe the problem isn’t just what we believe.  Maybe it’s what we do with belief once we’re convinced we’re right.

Following Jesus Without Needing Certainty

That’s part of why I find myself holding onto Jesus… while letting go of some of the certainty I was raised with.  Because I’m no longer convinced he came to establish a religion the way we think of it now.

He talked about a kingdom, but not one built on power.  He gathered people, but not around control or uniformity.

The word often translated as “church” was ecclesia—an assembly, a community, not a system designed to settle every argument. There was nothing religious in the connotation of that term…to Jesus or his listeners.

And maybe that’s the point.  Maybe faith was never meant to be condensed into a religion, or eliminate tensions and elicit certainty. Maybe it was meant to teach us how to live within it—with humility, with empathy, and with the awareness that we don’t always see as clearly as we think we do.

Imitating Jesus… Not Building a System

One of the things I keep coming back to is this: the earliest followers of Jesus weren’t trying to build a religion.  They were trying to live like him.

The name “Christian” itself started as a description—and kind of an insult by the religious of their time—of people who were acting like little Christs. Imitators.

That’s a very different focus than what we see now.

It wasn’t about establishing power, defining borders or proving they were right.  It was about learning a way of life.

Even Paul—who I have a more complicated relationship with than I used to—said something I still think is worth holding onto: “Imitate me as I imitate Christ.”

Not, “Follow me because I’ve got the system figured out.”  But, “Watch how I live… and follow that when it looks like Jesus.”

A Different Kind of Conversion

What Jesus seemed to be after wasn’t people signing onto a belief system.  It was a change in posture.  A shift from self-preservation, power and certainty to humility, sacrifice and a love for others—even when it costs you something.

He said things that don’t translate well into modern religious culture:

• Give up everything.
• Take up your cross.
• Lose your life to find it.

Whether you take that literally or figuratively, the direction is unmistakable: this was never supposed be about gaining control. 

It was about letting go.

Why This Feels So Far Away Now

And this is where I struggle.  Because a lot of what passes for Christianity today feels tied to nationalism, identity, protecting what’s “ours” and maintaining influence. And I don’t see how that lines up with Jesus.

Not the one who had no place to lay his head, refused to align with political power and consistently challenged those who thought they had God on their side.

It’s hard to reconcile that with a version of faith that sounds more like, “God, make us stronger than our enemies. And kill them.”

Final Thought

I used to believe Scripture closed the conversation.  Now I’m starting to think it just opens one.  Not to confuse us, but to force us to wrestle with the kind of faith we’re willing to live out.

Because at some point, the question isn’t just what the Bible says.  It’s what we choose to do with it.

And even more than that—

What kind of person we’re becoming because of it.

Grace and grit to you! – LK