Standing in the Gap When the World Chooses Sides

There are moments when sleep is interrupted - not by noise or restlessness - but by something deeper. A burden you can’t ignore.

I woke up in the middle of the night with my heart heavy for the people of Iran. Not governments. Not politics. People. Innocent women. Children. Fathers. Mothers. Lives that matter just as much as mine.

Because the truth is - we don’t get to choose where we are born. We don’t choose our nationality, our race, or the culture we are raised in. And yet, somehow, those very things become the basis for how the world assigns value.

But I am sure of one thing: God loves mankind. All of it.

I am not anti-American. I love this country. I live here. I pray for it.

But to let you in on a secret of mine, I keep a globe nearby - a simple reminder that my prayers are not meant to stop at America. I use it to focus on different nations, different people, different lives that matter just as much as mine.

And yes, I know Iran has a regime that has kept many of its people in oppression for years. But I refuse to use that as an excuse. Because if we are honest, America has its own forms of bondage too.

Maybe it looks different. Maybe it’s not the same system. But brokenness is not confined to one nation.

We have people here bound by injustice, by poverty, by division, by systems that fail them, by hatred that still lingers beneath the surface. So I cannot stand in a place of pride and point fingers as if we are without our own need of mercy.

Because this was never about comparing nations. It’s about remembering that every nation needs God. And more importantly - every person does.

The people of Iran are not their government. Just like we are not always a reflection of ours.

There are people there longing for freedom. People there resisting quietly. People there praying, just like we are. And if anything, that should move us to compassion - not condemnation.

Because the call of Christ was never to pick sides between nations… It was to love people. All people.

As we sit on the edge of a supposed deadline - waiting to see if our commander in chief will decide to wipe out Iran - I couldn’t help but think about a passage in Genesis 18:16-33. It’s the moment when Abraham stands before God, interceding for Sodom.

Abraham knew Sodom was wicked. There was no denying that. But he also believed something just as strongly- that there had to be innocent people in that city. People who should not have to pay for the sins of the majority.

So what did Abraham do?

He didn’t justify the wickedness. He didn’t pretend it wasn’t there. But he also didn’t stay silent. He interceded.

He stood in the gap and asked God, “What if there are fifty righteous people?” Then forty-five. Then forty. Then thirty…twenty…ten.

Abraham kept going all the way down to ten. Why? Because even in a place known for corruption, he believed righteous lives still mattered. That innocence was worth pleading for. That mercy should be considered alongside judgment.

And I can’t help but see the parallel.

We look at nations today and label them by their governments, their policies, their reputations. But within those borders are millions of people - people who did not choose their circumstances. People who are living, loving, raising families, trying to survive.

People worth interceding for. So that’s what I found myself doing in the middle of the night - praying.

Not out of fear, but out of conviction. Because I believe that even in Iran, there are believers - Christians quietly holding onto their faith. And beyond that, there are countless innocent people who simply want to live their lives, raise their children, and see another day. People who deserve the chance to keep living.

The same way Abraham stood in the gap in Genesis, I felt the same call-to intercede, to pray, to not remain silent. Because prayer reminds us of something powerful: God sees individuals, not just nations. He sees the mother tucking her child into bed. He sees the father working to provide. He sees the quiet faith of those who still believe-even when it dangerous. And if God sees them that way, then so should we.

Somewhere along the way, especially here in America, we’ve blurred a dangerous line. We act as though if we hate someone, God must hate them too. As if our political enemies are automatically heaven’s enemies. But that is not the Gospel. Jesus did not die for a select group. He didn’t die for one nation, one race, or one political party. Jesus died for everyone.

When I hear leaders speak so casually about destruction-about wiping out entire nations - it makes me pause. When human lives are spoken of as if they are disposable…I can’t help but wonder:

What does the heart of God feel in those moments? Because every life-every single one-is made in His image. The child in Iran is not less valuable than the child in America. The mother across the ocean is not less loved than the mother next door. God does not rank humanity the way we do. And if we are truly followers of Christ, then we shouldn’t either. So I prayed for mercy. I prayed for protection. I prayed that innocent lives would be spared.

Because no matter what decisions are made by leaders, no matter how loud the rhetoric becomes, there are still lives worth fighting for in prayer. Because the Kingdom of God is not built on hatred. It is built on love. And love doesn’t stop at borders.

I want to ask that before you move on with your day, pause. Pray for someone in a place you’ve never been. Pray for people you’ve only ever seen through headlines. Ask God to help you see others the way He does - not through politics, but through compassion. Because changing the world might not start in a seat of power…

It might start on your knees.