They say monsters are made, not born. But few stop to ask: Who’s doing the making?

In a country saturated with guns, wrapped in flags, and baptized in the name of a whitewashed Jesus, we’ve watched a new breed of radicalism emerge—violent, nationalistic, and cloaked in Christian rhetoric. It calls itself “patriotic,” but its fruit is anything but holy.

Take Kyle Rittenhouse. Hailed as a hero by right-wing pundits, he killed two men and injured another at a Black Lives Matter protest. Instead of remorse, he was greeted with standing ovations at conservative events. Right-wing politicians posed for photos with him. Pastors laid hands on him in prayer. He wasn’t rebuked—he was rewarded. They called him a “God-fearing young man defending freedom.” What they really meant was: “He killed the right kind of people.”

And then there was the recent tragedy that barely blipped across national headlines. A young man led firefighters into a wooded area and shot them. Let that sink in—firefighters. The very people trained to save lives were ambushed. What kind of belief system cultivates a heart capable of that level of inhumanity? What poisoned his worldview so deeply that murder became an acceptable response?

The answer is complex, but it’s rooted in the convergence of three toxic elements: white supremacy, Christian nationalism, and unchecked male rage. The MAGA movement has become a breeding ground for all three. It doesn’t just tolerate extremism—it nurtures it. It offers young men a narrative that tells them they are oppressed, emasculated, and under attack, and then it hands them a gun and a Bible and says, “Go defend your country.”

But this isn’t Christianity. This is idolatry wrapped in red, white, and blue.

This brand of nationalism doesn’t produce disciples; it produces zealots. It doesn’t teach love of neighbor; it fosters fear of the “other.” It is a movement that trades the gospel of peace for the illusion of power. And in that exchange, lives are lost.

We can’t keep pretending this is fringe behavior. It’s not. It’s becoming the norm in spaces where fear is preached louder than faith and where violence is baptized as virtue.

And here’s the chilling truth: monsters like Rittenhouse don’t emerge in a vacuum. They are raised in homes where Fox News runs on a loop. They sit in churches where sermons preach America first and compassion last. They scroll timelines where pastors share conspiracy theories and politicians equate liberals with demons. And we wonder why the body count keeps rising?

This is not new.

During Reconstruction, after the Civil War, white Christians formed the Ku Klux Klan—a terrorist group that used violence to preserve white dominance in the South. They carried crosses and Bibles while they lynched Black men. They believed they were doing God’s work. The language of “God and country” has always been a mask for power.

In Nazi Germany, Adolf Hitler used Christian symbolism and language to promote his fascist ideology. Many churches went along with it. Some even thrived under it. The idea of a “pure nation” blessed by God was not only embraced but preached. And millions paid the price.

Today, Dominionism—a movement within some evangelical and Pentecostal churches—preaches that Christians should control all spheres of society: government, media, education, and beyond. It claims divine authority to rule, not just participate. It’s not democracy; it’s theocracy in disguise. And it’s influencing Supreme Court justices, school boards, and presidential candidates.

History is not just repeating itself—it’s roaring back with vengeance. And the Church, instead of being a prophetic voice, is too often the cheerleader.

The monsters are among us. But more than that—they’re being celebrated. Enabled. Created.

This is not a war of right vs. left. This is a war of truth vs. delusion. Of justice vs. idolatry. Of Christ vs. Christian nationalism.

If we care about the soul of this nation—if we care about the witness of the Church—we cannot remain silent. We must call this what it is: a dangerous cult of power masquerading as piety. And until we name it, confront it, and dismantle it, more lives will be lost. More monsters will be made.

The time for quiet prayers has passed. It’s time for holy rage.

But it is also time for holy rebuilding.

We must teach our boys that strength is not domination. That power is not violence. That being a man is not about control but compassion. We must raise sons who cry openly, love deeply, and listen intently. We must show them that courage looks like vulnerability, not aggression.

Churches must stop preaching from pulpits of fear and start cultivating communities of equity, empathy, and inclusion. Parents must question the media they consume and the ideologies they pass down. Schools must prioritize emotional intelligence, consent, and conflict resolution.

We must mentor young men with kindness instead of shame, with accountability instead of punishment. We must model integrity, not entitlement. And we must tell the truth—again and again and again—until the lies lose their grip.

Because if monsters can be made, then so can men of peace. Let us begin there.