The Jesus who challenges billionaires, who breaks ICE detention centers, who stands with transgender kids, who feeds the hungry—that Jesus is still too danger
JUL 02, 2025 (wisdomschool.com)
The modern image of Jesus in much of American Christianity would be nearly unrecognizable to the man who walked the dusty roads of Galilee 2,000 years ago. Today, he’s too often presented as a soft-spoken personal savior, a symbol of comfort and obedience, whose primary mission was to get people into heaven after they die. In many churches, he’s been reduced to a mascot for empire, capitalism, and personal prosperity.
But the Jesus we meet in the Gospels is far more dangerous than that.
He was a revolutionary—a direct threat to the religious elite, the Roman Empire, and every system of power built on hierarchy, exclusion, and violence. The message he preached—”The Kingdom of God is at hand”—was not a promise of escape from this world. It was a challenge to transform it.
The Kingdom Was a Threat
To understand the radical nature of Jesus’ message, we need to strip away centuries of theological varnish and return to his actual words. The central theme of his teaching was not individual salvation, but the Kingdom of God—a phrase that appears over 100 times in the New Testament.
This Kingdom was not a place in the sky after death. It was a new reality to be born on Earth, here and now. It was not about private piety but public transformation. It turned the social order upside down.
In this Kingdom, the first would be last. The meek would inherit the Earth. The hungry would be filled. The rich would be sent away empty. The merciful, the peacemakers, the persecuted—they would be blessed.
These were not abstract moral ideas. They were revolutionary statements, threatening to the powerful of his time. Jesus was announcing the arrival of a new political, economic, and spiritual order—one that would dismantle empire, subvert religious hypocrisy, and lift up the oppressed.
Jesus vs. Empire
Jesus lived in a time of brutal Roman occupation that would have delighted Trump. The people of Judea were heavily taxed, militarily controlled, and religiously manipulated by elites who had aligned themselves with Caesar. Crucifixion was Rome’s favored method of control—a public reminder of what happened to those who challenged authority.
And Jesus did challenge it.
When he flipped over the tables of the money changers in the Temple, it wasn’t just about spiritual corruption—it was an act of political defiance against a system that exploited the poor in the name of God.
When he called Herod a “fox,” when he refused to pay homage to Caesar, when he entered Jerusalem on a donkey to mimic and mock imperial processions—it was calculated satire, revolutionary theater. He was, as theologian John Dominic Crossan put it, “a Mediterranean Jewish peasant with a consciousness of divine justice,” whose mission was nothing short of dismantling the machinery of domination.
Not a Sinner’s Prayer, but a Social Gospel
Modern evangelicalism often asks people to recite a “sinner’s prayer” to secure their place in heaven. But Jesus never asked anyone to say a prayer like that. He asked people to follow him—to heal the sick, feed the poor, forgive their enemies, and reject materialism.
He talked constantly about money and justice. He denounced the hoarding of wealth, telling the rich young ruler to sell everything. He warned that “you cannot serve both God and Mammon.” He told parables where the villain was often the rich man who ignored the suffering at his gate.
In Matthew 25, he laid out the terms of judgment—not based on belief or ritual, but on acts of compassion. “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was a stranger and you welcomed me… Just as you did it to the least of these, you did it to me.”
This was not a privatized spirituality. It was a public ethic. It was solidarity with the poor, the outcast, the criminal, the foreigner.
What the Early Christians Knew
The first Christians understood all of this. They weren’t building megachurches or lobbying for tax breaks. They were forming underground communities where wealth was shared, status was dismantled, and allegiance to Caesar was rejected.
Acts 2 tells us they “held all things in common” and “no one claimed private ownership of any possessions.” They were practicing an early form of radical economic justice—what today would be derided as socialism or worse.
They were tortured, arrested, and killed not because they believed in being nice or going to heaven—but because they lived a life that directly contradicted the values of empire. Their refusal to bow to Roman authority was not just theological—it was political.
How Jesus Got Tamed
Over time, as Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire, the radical message of Jesus was tamed. The Kingdom of God was reinterpreted as a post-mortem paradise. Faith became institutionalized. The Church aligned itself with kings and empires, blessing war and conquest in Jesus’ name.
Today, many churches in America have once again traded prophetic truth for political power. Jesus has been co-opted to justify nationalism, racism, corporate greed, and anti-immigrant bigotry. In doing so, they are not following Jesus—they are crucifying him again.
The Jesus who challenges billionaires, who breaks ICE detention centers, who stands with transgender kids, who feeds the hungry without checking their citizenship status—that Jesus is still too dangerous for many pulpits.
Reclaiming the Revolution
But the Gospel hasn’t lost its power. It’s just been buried—under layers of comfort theology and imperial theology.
To reclaim the real Jesus is to reclaim the path of spiritual resistance. It is to stand against systems of domination and announce, with both word and action, that a new world is possible. It is to align ourselves with the powerless and recognize that divinity is most fully expressed not in palaces, but in prison cells and border camps and public housing and hospice wards.
It is to say, as Jesus did, “The Kingdom of God is at hand”—and to live as if that were true.
Not someday. Now.