These days, many of us are feeling under siege by evil—whether it’s from unapologetic corruption, warmongering in Iran, backing out of NATO commitments despite having been the only country in its ranks to have invoked article 5, casting blame for wildfire smoke, threatening to invade sovereign nations, attempting to compensate insurrectionists while cutting off USAID to vulnerable countries resulting in hundreds of thousands of deaths, abusing immigrants and perceived immigrants, violating justice, or something else.
I've never been someone who's particularly cared about American politics. When Americans have made bold claims about how the world looks to them as the paragons of freedom and morality, ever since I was a teenager I've shrugged and looked away. But now? There’s never a dull moment with Trump. He has affected the life of nearly every person in the world in some way, with some calling him a one-man weapon of mass destruction. [1]
At times, I’ve been startled by my strong emotional reaction to Trump’s corruption, not just his destruction. I’m halfway around the world, not American, and not directly affected by his actions—so why do I often feel so personally wounded?
The answer is simple: we are all incurring moral injuries because of the things being done by Trump.
According to Jim Ritchie, a medical missionary and former US Navy physician, “moral injury occurs when someone commits an act, is party to an act, or fails to prevent an act that violates their deeply held moral values.” [2] Moral injury is linked to guilt and shame, and often occurs when we either betray someone’s trust, or when our own trust is betrayed by someone else. [3] Many of us never trusted Trump, but perhaps we trusted the institution of America to some degree. We may feel helpless to stop the carnage, and our own helplessness in turn injures our morality, resulting in a sense of shame.
According to Ritchie, moral injury isn’t a medical problem. It isn’t PTSD. It doesn’t respond to medications or psychotherapy. It’s a spiritual problem. [4]
The good news is that with the right tools, we can “metabolize” moral injury so that its power to destroy is diminished. Ritchie uses an acronym to organize his approach: [5]
C - confess and receive forgiveness
Moral injury is associated with guilt and shame. We may experience shame for being associated with people who have perpetrated some of these evils. For instance, white evangelical Christians were a significant force towards electing Trump in the first place. I am both white and a Christian. It doesn’t matter that I’m not American; I still encounter this stain on the moniker “Christian” even here in Japan, where people regularly ask me about how Christians could allow this to happen. Although we may be tempted to deal with our shame by disowning people who support Trump and leave it at that, I’m going to suggest a slightly less comfortable approach.
Christians have been responsible for atrocities throughout history. Perhaps a healthier approach is to unflinchingly look at their sins, and then use our findings to examine our own hearts for similar attitudes. For instance, when have I treated people different from me as enemies? When have I acted with entitlement? When have I been willing for other people to sacrifice for me but been unwilling to sacrifice for them? When have I withheld my first-world resources from people suffering in poorer nations? If we allow someone else’s sins to spur us on to healthy self-examination and repentance, we can experience unprecedented healing and wholeness as God forgives, transforms, renews us personally.
L - lament
I’ve written before about lamenting evil. This might involve writing in a journal, reading one of the lament psalms aloud to God or creating a psalm in your own words to fit the current situation, writing a story or song, choreographing a dance, creating a piece of art, or something else. Lamenting is a key part of our response to moral injury. Without pouring ourselves into lament, we cannot hope to fully heal.
A - spend time away from the toxin
Sometimes, when we feel helpless against an onslaught of evil, we think the least we can do is to acknowledge it, not turn away. We don’t want to be willfully ignorant, like so many people were with the horrors of WWII.
However, as my coworker in Christ, Michèle Phoenix, is fond of saying, especially to trauma survivors: “Sometimes it’s okay—even essential—to look away.” If we don’t, we won’t survive. Keep in mind the apostle Paul’s words:
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.
(Philippians 4:8, NIV)
Why are we to set our minds on these things? Because we imitate the people we think about most. If we’re always filling our minds and souls with the actions and words of a man who seems determined to outdo his last evil act, our souls will become twisted. I’ve noticed this in myself. If I look at the news too regularly, read too many articles, allow myself to fume too long—I become angry, impatient, testy. I begin to sin myself.
This is not the destiny God has for us. He wants us to be salt and light on the earth, not perpetuators of darkness. If we focus on Jesus, we will become like Him. Isn’t He who we want to be like, anyway?
Give yourself permission to turn away—for a day, a week, or even longer. To turn off the TV. Close the news app. Refuse to click on the next tantalizing headline. Not as a denial of evil, but as a boundary against it infecting your own mind.
The other day, I said to my husband, "I'm beginning to understand why the judgement day is so needed as a precursor to heaven. For me, the primary beauty of judgement day has nothing to do with vengeance or punishment or having abusers finally unmasked. It's about injustice finally being destroyed. It's about this relentless, devouring beast finally being stopped.” Judgement day is the beginning of heaven. I can't think of anything better than a time and place when "justice roll[s] down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream." (Amos 5:24, ESV)
The next day, I found myself drawn to the book of Exodus. Reading the laws about personal injury, property rights, and the sundry laws soothed my soul. They were a reminder of what justice looks like. A reminder that God is just, that justice matters to Him, that there are rules that should not be broken. That there should be penalties for bad behaviour, that there is grace (i.e., for the owner of a bull that gores someone but has never gored before) but also common sense. There is mercy (i.e., for the person who has used his only cloak as collateral to still have a covering at night) and fairness (i.e., if one animal injures another).
These things matter. These things exist.
W - work to redeem the situation
We all know what’s happening is evil. We don’t need to know every little detail. Instead of placating our consciences with the idea that we didn’t look away (while we sit on our couches), what about using our emotional energy to actually do something? What about using the energy we squander on indignation to instead take care of the immigrant? The poor person? The abuse victim? We can spend time away from the toxin without abdicating our responsibility to reach out and love our neighbours, and battle oppression.
If we stop substituting outrage for intentional action, we can take control of what we can do rather than succumbing to the lie that this is all too big to combat. We serve the God who created the universe. Nothing is bigger or more powerful than Him. When we do our part, we let Jesus be the hero through our obedience.
S - share the burden with grace-filled, like-minded believers
Shame thrives in darkness and secrecy. Bringing our feelings of shame out into the light can be one of the scariest things we ever do. But with moral injury, courage is part of the answer. Exposing our shame to the healing presence of the Holy Spirit and the grace of other believers is the exact antidote for its poison. When we allow God to redeem our pain and turn it into fertilizer that feeds spiritual growth, amazing things happen. In time, our pain transforms into the grace we can now offer to someone else sinking into the quicksand of shame.
NOTES
[1] Simon Tisdall. 2026. 'Trump, not Iran, is the world’s greatest danger. He’s a one-man weapon of mass destruction’, The Guardian <https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2026/jul/18/donald-trump-iran-world-danger-bombing-us> [accessed 19 July 2026]
[2] Jim Ritchie. 2024. ‘Moral Injury in Healthcare Missionaries: Spiritual Solutions to a Spiritual Problem’, MedSend <https://wgm.org/files/missionaries/Ritchie_Moral%20Injury%20in%20Healthcare%20Missionaries-%20Spiritual%20Solutions%20to%20a%20Spiritual%20Problem.pdf> [accessed 20 July 2026], 7.
[3] Ibid, 8.
[4] Ibid, 9.
[5] Ibid, 17, 20. In the rest of this article, I’ve used my own words to expand on Ritchie’s ideas, as laid out in his acronym.
