This Is What Prophets Sound Like
Post 24 in the Peaceful Resistance Series
Why Truth Will Never Be Quiet Again
Prophets Were Never Popular
They weren’t liked.
They weren’t safe.
They weren’t easy to listen to.
They were exiled, mocked, silenced, imprisoned.
Some were stoned. Others were crucified.
Almost all were ignored until it was too late.
And yet—
we love to quote them now.
We print their verses on mugs.
We turn their fury into gentle devotionals.
We make them symbols of faith—
but forget what they were actually doing:
They disrupted the comfort of the powerful.
They spoke what everyone else was too afraid to say.
They named the harm while others kept singing in the temple.
Prophets weren’t polished.
They weren’t institutionally approved.
They were inconvenient, raw, and utterly necessary.
And they still are.
Christian Nationalism Doesn’t Want Prophets—It Wants Performers
In Christian Nationalist movements, the emphasis is often on appearances.
Obedience is praised.
Compliance is holiness.
Silence is godliness—especially if it protects the powerful.
You’re rewarded for playing the part:
Going to the right churches.
Using the right words.
Quoting the right scriptures.
But those aren’t acts of healing.
They are performances of authority.
They comfort the already comfortable.
They protect hierarchy, not the hurting.
They bless the system—not the soul.
Real prophets are dangerous to this performance.
They don’t stick to the script.
They ask the questions that make leaders squirm.
They call out the show for what it is.
So the system teaches you to be quiet.
To be polite.
To confuse order with goodness.
And to leave truth at the door.
Prophets Are Rising Anyway
Even in the face of punishment—
prophets keep rising.
Not because it’s safe.
But because it’s necessary.
They don’t wear robes or quote verses to perform.
They carry wounds and wisdom.
They speak in grief, not grandeur.
They are teachers fired for telling the truth.
Parents who resist book bans.
Survivors who name the abuse that was blessed in God's name.
Immigrants who speak their story in public—knowing the cost.
They are former insiders—
Sunday school leaders, youth pastors, choir singers—
who finally said, enough.
They’re not trying to win debates.
They’re trying to reclaim their humanity—
and yours.
They don’t want power.
They want healing.
And they know the only path to that
is telling the truth—
especially when it’s inconvenient.
Let the Prophets Speak
Christian Nationalism wants prophets to sit down.
It wants to domesticate them—
sanitize their message,
blame their tone,
dismiss their tears as weakness.
It prefers the prophets of comfort.
The ones who say what keeps people giving.
Voting.
Obeying.
But the real prophets?
They are not here for comfort.
They are here for truth.
They are loud.
Messy.
Unapproved.
They are queer.
Neurodivergent.
Disabled.
Brown.
Survivors.
They are rising anyway.
And when they speak—
they echo the cries of every prophet who came before them.
You don’t have to agree with them.
But you do need to ask:
What am I afraid of hearing?
Who told me this voice doesn’t belong?
And what part of me might be saved by listening?
NEXT - When They Say God Is in Control
