(Note: when I reference the “church” throughout the body of this article, I’m not referencing 100% of all churches. There are some really good churches out there! I’m merely referencing the majority of the American Christian community)

I was the church’s golden child.

I led small groups, I preached in front of my peers, I volunteered on local mission trips, I created prayer groups at my high school, I mentored younger teenagers, I attended Christian concerts. I checked all the boxes. Throughout my teenage years and into early adulthood, my life completely revolved around the church. There was a sort of peace about this — stability, comfortability, and a weekly routine.

I thought I knew Jesus. I thought this was what following Jesus looked like: waking up early on Sunday mornings to serve, attending church, inviting friends to church, being apart of a life group, praying, and reading my Bible. Being generally well liked and heavily involved in the church’s operations, I built many deep relationships: with my peers, pastors, and other small group leaders. I want to be clear: I couldn’t be more thankful for the relationships I developed from my church years. Many of these individuals became lifelong friends. I met my best man at church. I met nearly all my groomsmen at church. I met my future wife at church. Those relationships still exist.

However, one relationship doesn’t still exist. And it’s my relationship with the church.

Many of my former pastors would be shocked. How could the kid who was so involved growing up leave the church? How could the kid who was so “on fire” for God leave the church? How could he leave the church? Well, to put it simply… I met Jesus. I truly met Jesus. And he led me to leave the church.

Growing up, I thought I knew Jesus. A life built upon a stable and comfortable routine, I adopted the church’s teachings in all phases of my life — including my political beliefs. I was conditioned to hold typical Christian conservative political beliefs: no abortions, no gay marriage, no exceptions. It’s no secret that the Christian church, as a whole, mostly leans politically conservative. You’d be kidding yourself if you assumed otherwise. The church’s political leanings were recently re-affirmed when 81% of white evangelicals voted for presidential candidate Donald Trump.

Then it hit close to home.

There was a certain family member I had growing up, who I deeply loved. We had a great relationship. He lived in California, so we primarily only saw him on holidays. He eventually came out as homosexual. I’ll never forget how the rest of my Christian family responded. Relationships were broken. Contact was ceased. We didn’t see him again. The family never spoke of him again. He had officially been disowned.

A heartbreaking situation like this caused me to re-examine my beliefs. Suddenly there was a lot of doubt:

Who was Jesus? What did Jesus truly believe? How would Jesus have responded?

This situation unsettled me. You know that gut feeling in your stomach, or that little voice in your head that speaks to you when something feels morally questionable? That’s what happened to me. There was no way this was how Jesus would have responded. Are we sure Jesus would have never spoken to him again? Are we sure Jesus would have broken off his relationship with him? Are we sure Jesus would even be upset?

For the first time in my life, I began to study who Jesus was without the church hovering over my shoulder. Without a pastor to point me in the “right” direction. Without an elder to help “straighten my path”. What I learned disturbed me. The words I read scared me. The Jesus I began to know in the Gospels was in direct opposition to the Jesus preached in churches.

This Jesus was radical. This Jesus was compassionate. This Jesus took the side of the hurting. This Jesus fought hard against oppression. This Jesus fought for human rights. This Jesus didn’t give a shit about political power.

Then came the 2016 presidential election.

I stood in silence as I witnessed many of my Christian family members, friends, and pastors fiercely endorse, promote, and advocate the words and policies of Republican Presidential Candidate Donald Trump.

The words he spoke were disturbing. Many of the policies he promoted were vehemently contradictory to the causes of Jesus.

“He’s not a war hero — he’s a war hero because he was captured. I like people that weren’t captured.” — Donald Trump, speaking about Senator John McCain “Look at that face! Would anyone vote for that? Can you imagine that, the face of our next President?” — Donald Trump, speaking about Carly Fiorina “Donald J. Trump is calling for a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States.” — Donald Trump “I could stand in the middle of 5th avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn’t lose voters.” — Donald Trump

Donald Trump was caught on tape openly bragging about sexual assault — and passed it off as “locker room talk”.

But the church didn’t give a fuck. They sold Jesus out for political power.

The Church abandoned the causes of Jesus. The Church joined the side of the oppressor. The Church turned away the oppressed, the broken, and the hurting. The Church made it clear: they were not interested in truly following Jesus. They were interested in power and political dominance.

When 81% of white evangelicals voted for Donald Trump, they made it clear: they weren’t interested in the causes of Jesus. They were interested in the causes of their own heart.

And to the churches and pastors who were too timid to preach against these direct attacks on the heart of Jesus: silence is submission. You are complicit. You had a responsibility to speak out against evil. Your fear of offending your congregation politically paralyzed your faith. You failed.

I have numerous friends and family members, who I love very much, who belong to minority groups being persecuted by this administration. Why would I attend church, an institution symbolizing oppression? An institution whose beliefs and practices directly contradict the heart of Jesus?

The Church sold out. They sold Jesus out for cheap, temporary political power.

And for that reason, I’m out.