In the wake of distressing news from the Middle East, many of us are feeling grief, anger, and confusion. As a pastor, I write with a heavy heart, holding our collective sorrow and hope.
On June 21, 2025, the United States carried out airstrikes against Iranian nuclear sites amid escalating tensions between Iran and Israel. While opinions on this conflict vary, our shared humanity compels us to lament the violence and seek God’s guidance. We worship a relational, love-centered God who is present with all who suffer.
In this moment of crisis, we mourn with those who mourn, remembering that every casualty has a name, a family, a story precious to God. We also affirm that God’s heart is for reconciliation and peace, even when war seems to have the upper hand. As disciples of the Prince of Peace, how do we respond? With honesty, with compassion, and with a hope that refuses to let violence have the final word.
Even global faith leaders have reminded us that war is never a true solution. Pope Leo XIV recently implored, “Let diplomacy silence the weapons. Let nations chart their future with works of peace, not with violence and bloody conflicts!” He warned, “War does not solve problems, but rather it amplifies them… No armed victory can compensate for the pain of mothers, the fear of children, the stolen future.”
These words resonate deeply. They echo the cry of the prophets and the teachings of Jesus, calling us to break the cycles of hatred. In that spirit, let us gently explore the context of this conflict and seek a faithful, peace-rooted response.
Understanding the Crisis in Context
The current situation did not emerge overnight. For decades, the relationship between Iran and Israel has been marked by hostility, fueled by threats, proxy conflicts, and mutual distrust. But the deeper crisis reaches beyond these two nations.
At the heart of the region’s volatility lies the long-unresolved trauma between Israel and the Palestinian people. For generations, Palestinians have endured displacement, occupation, and restricted freedom. The expansion of Israeli settlements, military control, and unequal access to basic resources have fostered deep and ongoing suffering. These realities have created a context where despair and anger can fester, especially in Gaza, where conditions have often been described as unlivable.
It is in this context that Hamas launched a horrific attack on Israeli civilians in October 2023—an act of terror that took the lives of over a thousand people and rightly drew international condemnation. Innocent lives were lost in an unspeakable way. But to begin the story there would be to miss the long-burning roots of this fire. The violence of that day did not erupt in a vacuum—it emerged from decades of systemic injustice, unmet political promises, and a people pushed to the edge.
That attack sparked a new war in Gaza, escalating tensions across the region. Since then, clashes and proxy conflicts involving Iran, Israel, Hezbollah, and other groups have intensified, and fears of a broader regional war have grown. Iran’s longstanding support for armed groups hostile to Israel—coupled with its nuclear ambitions—has added fuel to an already dangerous fire.
The United States has engaged in significant diplomatic efforts to reduce tensions throughout the region, even as it remained deeply aligned with Israel’s security priorities. The U.S. has long been one of Israel’s closest allies, providing military aid, intelligence, and political support. This alliance, while strategic for many policymakers, has also led many across the Middle East to view the U.S. not as a neutral broker but as a participant in the broader dynamics of conflict and power.
In recent months, U.S. leaders have expressed growing concern over Iran’s accelerating nuclear program, which they viewed as a threat not only to Israel but to broader regional and global stability. After months of failed negotiations, the U.S. launched airstrikes on three Iranian nuclear facilities on June 21, 2025. While these strikes occurred in a context of rising tension, they were not presented as a direct intervention in the Iran–Israel conflict. Instead, they were framed by American officials as a last-resort measure to disable Iran’s nuclear capabilities after diplomatic efforts were judged to have failed.
Still, the consequences of such actions are not confined to nuclear deterrence. They land in a region already traumatized by cycles of war, distrust, and displacement. The strikes have drawn international concern, with United Nations Secretary-General António Guterres condemning the bombings as a dangerous escalation and warning that “there is no military solution. The only hope is peace.” Iran has vowed retaliation, and the threat of further violence—across borders and alliances—now looms large.
As followers of Christ, we must remember that behind every political analysis and military maneuver are human lives—families in Iran now living under the fear of more bombings, Israelis bracing for retaliation, Palestinians still caught between forces far larger than themselves. There is tragedy on all sides. We resist the temptation to divide the world into good and evil. Instead, we affirm the sacred worth of every person involved. We lament a world where rockets fly more freely than compassion, and we recommit ourselves to the difficult, necessary, and gospel-shaped work of peace.
A Theological Vision: “Swords into Plowshares”
How do we, as Christians, frame this crisis theologically? We turn to our sacred stories for guidance.
The Bible does not gloss over war; it’s filled with “wars and rumors of wars” (Mark 13:7). Yet amid the strife, Scripture consistently casts a vision of God’s peaceable kingdom. The prophet Isaiah—facing the turmoil of his own day—received a divine vision of a world transformed:
“nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” (Isaiah 2:4)
He dared to imagine people beating their swords into plowshares—weapons reforged into farming tools, instruments of death converted to tools for life. This prophetic hope inspires us today. We are invited to live into God’s promised future, helping to bend the arc of history away from conflict and toward shalom (peace with justice).
Centuries later, Jesus echoed this call:
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” (Matthew 5:9)
“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matthew 5:44)
This radical love ethic was not naïve about evil; it was Jesus’ profound strategy to break the endless cycle of violence. As one Episcopal pastor reflected, Jesus knew that “the only actual way to stop the cycle of violence… is to change the way we treat our enemies.” Christian peacemaking is not passive acceptance of injustice. It is active reconciliation, grounded in love and dignity for all.
Peace is not merely a dream for the distant future—it is a command for the present. The Apostle Paul urges:
“If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.” (Romans 12:18)
We, the Church—the body of Christ in the world—are called to embody God’s reconciling love. That includes rejecting the demonization of entire peoples or nations, supporting dialogue and humanitarian relief, and praying and working for peace in our communities.
We can support organizations that build bridges between Israelis, Iranians, Palestinians, Muslims, Jews, and Christians. We can urge leaders to prioritize saving lives over saving face. And we can examine our own hearts, rooting out the seeds of fear and hatred that war so easily sows.
Isaiah’s vision is immortalized outside the United Nations in New York, where a statue of a man beating a sword into a plowshare stands as a symbol of humanity’s hope to turn destruction into creation. This is faithful imagination at work: seeing the world not only as it is, but as it could be under the reign of God’s love.
Even when the night is dark and the headlines grim, we look to the light of Christ, who “has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us” (Ephesians 2:14). In Christ’s death and resurrection, we see that hatred and death do not get the final word. God is still in the business of transforming hearts—and histories. Our task is to align ourselves with that sacred work.
A Prayer for Peace and De-escalation
(Adapted from a pastoral message)
God of Life and Peace,
Whose Son is named the Prince of Peace, we turn to you with aching hearts.
You created us for shalom—wholeness, harmony, and hope—and you urge us to embrace it. We confess that once again, we have failed to beat our swords into plowshares. We lift up the people of Iran and Israel, and the entire region. We grieve the airstrikes, the retaliation, the threats of wider war. We acknowledge the leaders who sought peace before this moment, and we mourn that those efforts failed.
Have mercy on us, O Lord.
Grant wisdom to leaders in Washington, Tehran, Tel Aviv, and beyond.
Give them the courage to choose negotiation over domination, peace over pride.
We intercede for those most at risk:
Families in Iran living under the shadow of war.
Civilians in Israel bracing for attack.
Palestinians still suffering in silence and under siege.
American service members and their loved ones, caught up in these unfolding events.
Lord, protect the innocent.
Comfort the grieving.
Strengthen the peacemakers.
Empower the healers.
Restrain the warmakers.
Holy Spirit, soften what is hardened.
Breathe life into what seems dead.
Give us strength to be instruments of your peace.
In the name of Jesus, the Prince of Peace, we pray.
Amen.
An Invitation to Hope and Faithful Action
This is a hard time. It is right to feel heartbroken. It is faithful to lament and to cry out, “How long, O Lord?”
Yet even in grief, we are people of hopeful imagination. We believe, by God’s grace, that swords can indeed become plowshares. Missiles can become mercy. Broken systems can give birth to new beginnings.
The resurrection teaches us that even from the tomb, life can rise again.
So I invite you into continued conversation and prayer. Let’s talk about how we respond as disciples of Jesus in a world on edge. Let’s make room for each other’s stories, each other’s fears, and each other’s courage.
Perhaps your act of peace is advocacy.
Perhaps it is a donation to a relief organization.
Perhaps it is a conversation with your child about what peace really means.
Perhaps it is simply your prayer, offered in trust.
Let us be communities where peace is practiced, not just preached.
Let us be churches that model the Kin-dom of God, where swords are broken down into plowshares.
Let us not lose heart, for Christ’s love urges us on (2 Corinthians 5:14) to imagine and live into a different future.
This week, I invite you to set aside five minutes. Close your eyes. Picture a sword being turned into a plowshare. Imagine bombs transformed into homes, soldiers becoming gardeners, boundaries becoming bridges. Let that image stay with you—and let it shape how you pray, how you speak, and how you live.
God’s Spirit can do more than we ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:20). May that Spirit guide us now.
May we be instruments of God’s peace.
May we love as Christ loves.
And may Isaiah’s vision become reality soon.
Amen.