We keep talking about Jesus. We refuse to define Him.

This week, I watched a segment on “The View” that felt less like a conversation and more like a fever dream. The topic, of course, was Donald Trump, prompted this time by an image circulating online that depicted him in a Christ-like form. The reaction was predictable — outrage, mockery, moral posturing, stacked in real time. But around the table, they argued about the identity of Jesus until Whoopi Goldberg mercifully moved the conversation to another topic. Trump brushed off the criticism, but the explanation felt thin. When a man plays loose with small things, it raises questions about the larger ones.

But that was not the strangest part.

Around the same time, tensions surfaced between Trump and the Vatican over Iran. Statements were issued. Concerns were raised. The familiar choreography of international moral authority began again. Yet for all the urgency, the moral clarity felt selective. For decades, the regime in Iran has wreaked havoc, killed, and brutalized even its own people in full view of the world. Yet many religious leaders have not spoken with the same force or urgency about those evils.

Because in the span of a few days, Jesus was invoked as an image to be shared, a symbol to be argued over, a moral reference point in international conflict, and a talking point in media commentary.

The church leaders making the talk-show circuit aren’t wrong to call this an unjust war. They’re just facing west when they should have been looking east, 47 years ago. Their tardiness doesn’t get a pass.

Then, as if the moment needed one more voice, Tucker Carlson entered the conversation and remarked that many Americans do not realize that Muslims love Jesus.

“The View,” Trump, the Vatican, Tucker. It sounds less like a serious public conversation than a strange collision of modern media and politics. And yet, for a brief moment, all of it circled the same question, whether anyone meant for it to or not.

Jesus.

Scripture makes clear that there is no more important question. And for a moment, the culture stumbled into it almost by accident.

Because in the span of a few days, Jesus was invoked as an image to be shared, a symbol to be argued over, a moral reference point in international conflict, and a talking point in media commentary. Everyone seemed eager to bring His name into the discussion. Almost no one seemed eager to define who He is. And that matters.

When someone says Muslims love Jesus, it sounds, on the surface, like a bridge-building statement. In one sense, it points to something real. In Islam, Jesus is honored as a prophet and born of a virgin. He is respected, even revered. But He is not confessed as the Son of God, nor as the crucified and risen Savior who takes away the sins of the world.

That is not a minor difference. It is the difference between a prophet and the Christ.

So when the conversation settles for saying that “we all love Jesus,” it often passes over the very question that gives such a statement meaning. The real issue is not whether Jesus is admired, referenced, or respected. The real issue is who He is.

And Jesus did not leave the matter of love undefined.

In the Gospel of John, He says, “If you love Me, you will keep My commandments” (14:15). Not admire. Not reference. Not invoke. Keep.

That means love, as Christ defines it, is not measured by sentiment but by obedience.

That is where the conversation becomes serious.

People say, “Just give me Jesus,” as though that settles the matter. But the moment you ask, “Which Jesus?” or “Who is Jesus?” the conversation changes. It must. Because a Jesus who can be reshaped to fit the needs of the moment is no longer someone to be followed. He becomes something to be used.

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus asked His disciples a question that still cuts through all the noise: “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” (16:13). They answered with names that sounded respectful and reasonable: John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, one of the prophets. Close enough to sound reverent, far enough to miss the truth. Then Jesus made the question personal: “But who do you say that I am?” (16:15).

Peter answered, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:16).

That was not sentiment. It was a confession.

And Jesus did not correct him. He affirmed him.

We live in a time when Jesus is frequently mentioned and rarely defined. He appears in political imagery, on social media, and in public argument. His name is used freely. His identity, far less so.

A Jesus who can be remade according to our preferences is no Jesus at all. He becomes a reflection of ourselves rather than the Savior of the world, a tool for our purposes rather than the Lord to whom we must bow.

And that applies to politicians, commentators, and religious leaders. It applies to all of us.

Jesus did not ask, “What do you admire about Me?” He did not ask, “How would you like to interpret Me?” He asked, “Who do you say that I am?”

And He did not leave love open to our private interpretation.

“If you love Me, you will keep My commandments.”

Which brings us back, strangely enough, to that panel discussion.

A table full of people arguing about Jesus. A politician posting images that invoke Him. Commentators speaking about Him. Religious leaders referencing Him.

Everyone talking.

Very few obeying.

And that may be the clearest answer of all.