In 2004, I moved to Philadelphia as a freshman in college. I left rural, bright red Lebanon County, Pa., to study journalism at Temple University. 

The Global War on Terror dominated headlines and also my body and mind. Even as a teenager, I couldn’t imagine how Jesus, the Prince of Peace who called us to love our enemies, would have us kill them.

But I was surrounded by Christians beating the war drums. Their overwhelming support of the Iraq invasion made me wonder if I could still follow Jesus. 

As I searched Philadelphia, I discovered a small Anabaptist community that firmly declared their opposition to the war in Iraq. The pastor even got arrested protesting the war. I found a worshiping community where I didn’t have to hide my convictions against war and for peacemaking. 

The peaceful and prophetic witness of this small congregation and pastor saved my fragile faith. Their vocal opposition was, in fact, evangelistic.

As I worshiped with this group, I eventually planted a church, and subsequently woke up every morning considering how to help the next generation follow Jesus. 

I ask the same questions today. 

People of all ages are fleeing churches because of their judgment and hypocrisy. The trouble is, even when we try to correct the homophobia, sexism and racism that cause many to flee, the pews remain empty. 

To make matters worse, our work to become more inclusive has sometimes resulted in denominational splits and the loss of congregations and conferences. In light of all this, some might advise muting the prophetic spirit that leads us to radically love our neighbor. But this, I believe, is misguided. 

Contemplating these challenges, I recall my own story. I recall the forces of war and propaganda that threatened my faith — and the fertile soil of peace, justice and activism that I could plant it in. I wouldn’t be a pastor, probably not even a Christian, if it weren’t for the bold and clear call for peace from that one, little Anabaptist congregation. 

So rather than shy away from political commitments, I believe a peace-and-justice-oriented Mennonite church could be the key to revival.

Already, we have some evidence of this through the work of Mennonite Action, an organization mobilizing Anabaptists across the U.S. and Canada to resist Christian nationalism and Christian Zionism, as we call for ending arms shipments to Israel and for a permanent cease-fire in Gaza. 

In my service on Mennonite Action’s pastoral committee and as co-host of our podcast, Front Light, we are beginning to see fruits of this awakening. People who grew up Mennonite but have left the church and people new to Anabaptism altogether are being drawn to our actions and events — and, consequently, to our churches. 

In our latest campaign, local chapters are hosting public events across the country declaring “God’s Love Knows No Borders.” We’ve held actions in Fresno, Raleigh, Denver, South Bend, Philadelphia, Washington, Lancaster, Chicago, Pittsburgh, Harrisonburg and San Francisco.

To be sure, Mennonite Action isn’t purposed for evangelism. The work we do has political and social consequences. We do it to be faithful to the gospel, not to fill pews. But we should also seize the opportunity for an awakening in our churches.

Mennonite action stands on the shoulders of giants. We aren’t the first group to mobilize Anabaptists to act politically. We owe a debt of gratitude to those who advocated for conscientious objection to war, to Vincent and Rosemarie Harding and Mennonite House for their work in the Civil Rights movement, to Pink Menno and the Brethren Mennonite Council for affirming LGBTQ+ rights, to the Coalition to Dismantle the Doctrine of Discovery for advocating Indigenous justice. 

Of late, we see the fruit of these sown seeds in Mennonite Church USA’s lawsuit against the Department of Homeland Security, advocating for freedom of religion and the separation of church and state. I am proud to be a pastor in a denomination that fights for our rights to worship alongside our migrant siblings.

The goal of our work is to live out our God-given convictions for peace and justice. But perhaps we will also provide an opportunity for lapsed Mennonites and people new to Anabaptism to join our churches. 

Christian nationalism, Christian Zionism and the Trump administration have done their share of damage to the next generation’s faith. But a peace-and-justice-centered church can begin to heal that harm. Through it, Anabaptist movements may find new hope and life.