Colorado just criminalized truth — how weak Christians let it happen

I’ve watched the gospel-centered movement sweep through evangelicalism over the past two decades. It began with good intentions to help Christians be “salt of the earth,” but it’s become a trap that convinced Christians to abandon the public square, shrinking the gospel to a private, individualized experience that neglects our duty to engage the world.

In other words, the salt has lost its saltiness.

How can its saltiness be restored? That’s what this essay is about.

A real-world example of what's at stake

To give a live example, Colorado’s monstrous bill HB1312 was signed into law last week. The bill criminalizes “deadnaming” and “misgendering” someone who claims a transgender identity.

This bill is state-supported child abuse. And we cannot ignore the fact that this bill passed the legislature along party lines, with every Republican voting against it and nearly every Democrat voting for it.

Courageous pastors like Chase Davis and Chris Goble led the charge against this bill, pleading with larger and more powerful Colorado-based Christian organizations to wield their influence to prevent the bill’s passage. Some of them reluctantly complied after being publicly shamed for their cowardice.

Jesus clearly asserted His authority and power as the animating force of the Great Commission.

The downstream effects of this bill would make sharing the gospel illegal, since the gospel requires preaching God’s law, repentance of any/all sin, and explicit faith in Christ for salvation. If a Christian pastor or parent told a child to repent of embracing transgender identity, that would be a criminal act that could even lead to the state forcibly removing the child from the home.

I have a friend with a conservative Christian family in Colorado, and they chillingly shrugged at the bill, saying, “This doesn’t affect us.” That’s the trap I’m talking about: "If it doesn’t affect me personally, then I need not be concerned about it."

But what about our duty to uphold truth and justice in the public square? What about our duty to be salt of the earth and light of the world?

This attitude is loser theology, which I’ve criticized many times (see here, here, here, and here). Loser theology privatizes the Christian faith to mere “heart religion,” while blinding us to our public duty to stand for truth. It convinces us to “keep quiet, stay safe, and let the world burn.”

The global scope of the gospel

The gospel is a public declaration of Christ’s victory over all the earth. The Great Commission opens with Jesus announcing He has all authority in heaven and on earth. Therefore, we (Christians) must disciple every nation on earth by preaching repentance of sins and obedience to God’s commands (Matthew 28:18-20). Similarly, in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells us that we are the salt of the earth and light of the world (Matthew 5:13-16).

The apostle Paul echoes this in Acts 17:30-31: “[God] commands all people everywhere to repent, because he has fixed a day on which he will judge the world in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed.”

Jesus’ authority is absolute: He has all authority in heaven and on earth.

Our mandate is global: Disciple all nations, being salt of the earth and light of the world.

Our message is twofold: (1) Repent of sins and believe in Christ for salvation, and (2) obey Jesus’ teaching.

Thus, preaching the gospel is not limited to inviting people to become Christians. It also requires telling the world that God commands them to repent and obey Christ because judgment is coming. In preaching the gospel, we are heralds of Christ’s victory, whereby the victor dictates the terms of peace.

But in modern times, the gospel has been reduced to a privatized religion, and we’ve abandoned our public duty. How did we get here?

The narrow gospel of the gospel-centered movement

About 20 years ago, the gospel-centered movement emerged to refocus Christians on the core of the gospel. The goal seemed noble enough. But since then it has become a marketing strategy in which “gospel-centered” was slapped on every Bible study, book, church planting network, and conference to make conservative Christians trust it.

The problem was not centering on the gospel. The problem was this definition of the gospel. This definition was too narrow, limiting it to individual conversion and private faith. It stripped away the gospel’s public mandate to assert Christ’s lordship over nations.

This shift had consequences.

Christians began abandoning their duty to be ambassadors for Christ, salt of the earth, and light of the world (2 Corinthians 5:20; Matthew 5:13-16). Once “gospel-centered” became a badge of trust, leftists co-opted it, labeling unbiblical ideas as “gospel issues.” Then, the term was twisted to mean, “The left wins now, and we’ll win in heaven.”

Even worse, it suggested God wants us to surrender our prophetic voice in the public square because getting stepped on for Jesus keeps us humble. This mindset convinced Christians that being passive in the face of evil is somehow an expression of gospel faithfulness and that asserting Christianity in public is “grasping for power.” Thus, abandoning the public square became a “gospel issue.”

My journey through the gospel-centered maze

Years ago, I did a Bible study written by Tim Keller on the book of Galatians that rocked my world.

Before that study, I thought the gospel meant repenting, believing in Jesus, receiving salvation, living in obedience to God, and calling others to do the same. But that study suggested my desire to obey might be legalistic pharisee-ism.

Since I wanted myself and others to obey God, was I being a self-righteous pharisee?

Keller’s study also warned about “heart idols,” quoting John Calvin’s line that the heart is an idol factory. Anything and everything could be a potential idol: power, approval, comfort, control, success, marriage, children — everything. This sent me on an inward quest, paranoid that any strong desire was evidence of idolatry.

The movement’s rhetoric was amplified by powerful outlets that saturated evangelicalism like the Gospel Coalition. The “gospel-centered” buzzphrase was everywhere.

This gospel-centered craze led to absurdities, like these:

• “The heart of the gospel is the cross, and the cross is all about giving up power.” — Tim Keller
• “We must repent of the way that we have prized the powerful over the powerless.” — Russell Moore
• “To be like Christ, we must lay down our need to dominate, to wield power over others, and embrace the humility of serving as He served.” — Beth Moore

These lines sounded profound, but notice the false dichotomy: You can either have power, or you can be humble — but you can’t have both.

Ironically, these champions of powerlessness are three of the most powerful voices that have shaped evangelicalism over the past 20 years. Besides, as noted above, Jesus clearly asserted His authority and power as the animating force of the Great Commission.

5 rotten fruits of the gospel-centered movement

It took me a while to untangle the good from the bad of the gospel-centered movement.

As I did, I noticed these five trends of the gospel-centered movement:

1. Equating humility with self-loathing: Humility was twisted into self-hatred. Of course, Christians must learn to hate their own sin and love what is good (Romans 12:9). Humility is not self-hatred, it is an accurate self-assessment according to God’s holy standard (Romans 12:3). Similarly, confidence was equated with arrogance. Thus, to be a humble Christian, you must be insecure and hate yourself.
2. Antinomianism: The gospel-centered movement veered into antinomianism, using “gospel” to negate morality, especially on issues like sexuality. Obedience to God’s law was considered legalism.
3. Unwillingness to oppose worldly ideologies: Christians became reluctant to oppose ideologies like LGBTQ activism or feminism, fearing they’d seem judgmental. Apathy about other people's sins was considered a mark of humility and a badge of virtue.
4. Left-leaning politics: The movement tilted center-left, and its adherents often viewed leftists as their primary mission field. One of the go-to evangelistic tactics to reach these leftist unbelievers was sneering at conservatives to their right, branding them “culture warriors” and “fundamentalists.” Throwing shade at conservative Christians was how they showed their leftist unbelieving friends they were the “good guys” and the “kind of Christian you can trust.”
5. Smugness: Gospel-centered Christians grew smug, but it was carefully hidden beneath a cloak of false humility. They were smug because they were the ones who truly “got” the gospel, leading them to become the self-appointed gatekeepers of the gospel, making sure to keep the fundamentalists safely on the margins.

I felt this personally. When I got angry about sin, I worried I was a pharisee. When I felt guilty for being a pharisee, I thought, “OK, now I’m getting the gospel!”

The more I shrugged at wickedness, the more I felt humble and Christ-like. If other Christians publicly opposed evil, I saw them as arrogant “elder brother” Christians and fundamentalists.

As this played out over the years, the same, tired talking points got recycled again and again. If someone said, “Christians should speak truth and call people to repentance,” a gospel-gatekeeper would respond, “Sounds like you’re grasping for power! The cross is about laying it down.” If someone warned about cultural decline, someone would respond, “True power is losing! We show Jesus’ kingdom by being the best losers.”

This mindset turned losing into a status marker for evangelical elites, silencing the church’s prophetic voice. The result is a weak church that doesn’t have the nerve to speak truth in public.

In 2025, the American church is weak. We have little influence and power in society. We’re over-coddled, clueless, gullible, and arrogant about it. Our weakness feeds a persecution fetish that is an invitation for disaster. We can no longer afford to be silent.

Conclusion: The global gospel

In Acts 1:8, Jesus promises, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses ... to the end of the earth.” The scope is global, the mandate is public, and the power is divine. We’re not called to get stepped on for Jesus but to proclaim His lordship over every nation.

Tech pioneer Marc Andreessen is not a Christian, but evangelical Christians can learn a thing or two from this statement of his: “The world is a very malleable place. If you know what you want, and you go for it with maximum energy and drive and passion, the world will often reconfigure itself around you.”

He’s right. If we have the will to act with courage, Christians can reshape the world for the glory of God.

The society we leave our children will depend on one thing: Do we have the will to assert Christ’s supremacy? Our enemies have plenty of will. Do we?

Therefore, it’s good for Christians to gain power and to wield it for godly purposes — not just political power, though we must pursue that, but influence in every sphere.

The gospel-centered movement, for all its initial promise, has led us into a trap that we need to find our way out of. It’s narrowed the gospel, privatized our faith, and convinced us that losing is godly.

But Jesus calls us to be salt and light, to disciple nations, and to proclaim His lordship with boldness. The future of our culture — and the legacy we leave our children — depends on it.

Let’s stop coasting on the fumes of Christendom and start fighting the good fight for the glory of God.

This essay was adapted from an article published at Michael Clary's Substack.