COME ON…LET’S BE HONEST ABOUT WHY YOU DON’T LIKE HIM

Come on…we know why you really don’t like him.

You say it was policy. You say it was ideology. You say it was “big government,” or “socialism,” or “executive overreach.” But that explanation collapses the moment it’s placed next to the president you now defend with near-religious devotion—a man whose policies have shifted constantly, whose positions contradict themselves openly, and whose moral life requires you to redefine words you once preached with certainty.

You said the problem was policy—but policy, apparently, is flexible. Drone strikes were evil—until they weren’t. Executive orders were tyranny—until they became efficiency. Deficit spending was reckless—until it was patriotic. Free trade was sacred—until it was betrayal. Respect for institutions mattered—until institutions asked for accountability. If policy were really the issue, consistency would have mattered. It didn’t. Loyalty did.

You said you couldn’t support him because he “wasn’t a real Christian.” He didn’t speak the language fluently enough. He didn’t perform the rituals convincingly enough. He didn’t come from the right subculture. But then you threw your full-throated support behind a man whose public life mocked humility, celebrated cruelty, bragged about sexual conquest, demeaned the vulnerable, and treated truth as disposable. Suddenly, character didn’t matter. Repentance wasn’t required. Church attendance became irrelevant. You explained it away with phrases like “God uses imperfect vessels”—as though that had never applied before.

You said you couldn’t support someone who didn’t represent “Christian values.” Yet you applauded vulgarity as strength, bullying as courage, vengeance as leadership. You excused lies that were easily disproven. You spiritualized power and baptized rage. You warned us that faith was under attack—while cheering behavior that would have disqualified any church elder you’d ever known.

So let’s stop pretending this was about theology. Or policy. Or even culture.

Because the standards didn’t just shift—they vanished.

What really unsettled you was something deeper and harder to admit. A man who spoke calmly. A man who was measured, educated, unthreatened by nuance. A man who didn’t perform anger for applause. A man who carried authority without bluster, intelligence without apology, dignity without permission. A man who did not need to shout to lead—and did not look like the leaders you were accustomed to trusting.

You never said that out loud. You didn’t have to. The double standard has said it for you.

This isn’t about calling names or assigning motives with cheap slogans. It’s about patterns—observable, undeniable patterns. It’s about how quickly “biblical values” became negotiable when power felt familiar again. It’s about how eagerly some believers traded the Sermon on the Mount for the thrill of domination. And it’s about how uncomfortable it made you to see authority exercised without anger, masculinity without menace, leadership without grievance.

You told us it was policy.

But policy never mattered that much before—or after.

You told us it was faith.

But faith was suddenly optional.

At some point, honesty becomes the only moral option left. And honesty says this: the problem was never what he believed or how he governed. The problem was that he shattered a hierarchy you were comfortable with and exposed a lie you’ve believed all your life—and you’ve been trying to find a respectable explanation ever since.

You don’t like Barack Obama.

And come on…we know why.

BDD