As the pointless, losing war in Ukraine grinds into its third year, a different narrative has begun to surface that’s more accurate than the one crafted by State Department media and fed into American television sets —one that accurately paints Zelenskyy as a leader who exudes entitlement, and a leader who seldom if ever is willing to make tough choices for the good of his country. Zelenskyy’s demands for support, his diplomatic demeanor, and his domestic policies reflect a man who believes the world owes him unwavering loyalty. And most of all, he is a leader that is begging the world for an immoral charity, one that will lead to lasting harm and irreparable damage to his country.
A PETULANT, ENTITLED, ANGRY ELF
Zelenskyy’s rise to prominence came with a clear message: Ukraine cannot fight alone. And by that message, the propagandists mean, the only thing his country can provide towards its own defense is blood-bags in uniforms, who are quickly becoming an army of the elderly, disabled, maimed, and hobbled. His frequent appeals to Western leaders have been unrelenting, calling for billions in aid, advanced weaponry, and sanctions on Russia with a fervor that leaves little room for negotiation. To his supporters, this is the voice of a desperate nation; to his detractors, it’s the tone of a leader who expects the world to prioritize Ukraine above all else.
In 2023, when the U.S. Congress hesitated over a $61 billion package because the war had clearly been lost already, and American legislators had already surmised they would have to be the adults in the room, questioning how, if American money couldn’t win the war alone, giving it could lead to anything but senseless Ukrainian deaths. Zelenskyy warned that “time is lives” and suggested that our hesitation to load him up with cash was a “betrayal to Ukraine,” as though somehow, we owed a foreign nation loyalty.
Similarly, his push for NATO membership and his criticism of allies like Germany for their initial reluctance to send tanks have struck some as ungrateful. “He acts like we owe him,” one European diplomat reportedly grumbled off the record. This sentiment has grown louder among those who feel Zelenskyy’s rhetoric sometimes ignores the political and economic realities of his allies.
At home, Zelenskyy’s leadership has also fueled accusations of entitlement. Early in the war, he centralized authority, banning opposition parties deemed pro-Russian and consolidating media under a single state-run broadcast. While these moves were framed as necessary for national security, they’ve raised eyebrows. Political opponents, sidelined or silenced, argue that Zelenskyy has used the crisis to entrench his own power rather than foster unity. His refusal to hold elections— citing martial law—has only deepened this perception, with some Ukrainians whispering that their president sees himself as indispensable.
His personal style doesn’t help. The casual military fatigues he wears—a symbol of solidarity with his troops—contrast with stories of a man who, before the war, enjoyed a comfortable life bolstered by offshore assets, as revealed in the Pandora Papers. Critics point to this duality: a leader who projects humility but whose actions suggest a belief that he deserves to lead without question.
To be fair, Zelenskyy’s position is unenviable. He helms a nation under existential threat, reliant on foreign goodwill to survive. His insistence on more support reflects the central core of State Department propaganda; Ukraine’s fate hinges on the West’s resolve. But this is a lie, if ever there was one. The West has bent over backwards for Zelenskyy, already funding his war with three-quarters of a trillion dollars, and Ukraine is losing. No amount of ‘foreign goodwill’ can end the war in Ukraine’s favor; it can only lead to more Ukrainian deaths.
In a December 2024 visit to the United States, where he reportedly pressed President Biden for faster weapons deliveries while sidestepping broader geopolitical concerns, left some aides in Washington bristling. “He doesn’t always read the room,” one analyst noted. And yesterday, Zelenskyy couldn’t read the room, which happened to be the Oval Office, with President Trump and Vice President Vance.
Like an angry, petulant dwarf, and his arms folded across his chest, Zelenskyy had come expecting to bulldog Trump in his own office, and push around the American president in America’s own house. He found out otherwise.
EMOTIONAL PLEADING FROM ILLOGICAL EVANGELICAL EMPATHS
A passionate chorus has emerged from America’s leftwing evangelical community. Long known for their influence in domestic politics, evangelicals are increasingly raising their voices to urge greater U.S. support for Ukraine, despite the fact their pleas are simultaneously calling for more senseless deaths and wanton destruction. With tearful sermons, fervent rallies, and heartfelt appeals, they frame the conflict not just as a geopolitical struggle but as a moral and spiritual battle that demands a robust American response. For these believers, supporting Ukraine is about defending liberty, resisting tyranny, and fulfilling a divine calling. Either that, or they’re all funded by USAID, which at this point, is a real possibility.
If you listen to evangelicalism’s leftwing, the same stripe of Christians who you might find on any given day treating abortive moms like victims and demanding welfare be dispensed to the lazy in the name of compassion - describe Russia’s aggression as an assault on Christian values like freedom and justice. “This isn’t just about borders,” preached Pastor James Carver of Grace Fellowship in Tulsa, Oklahoma, in a widely shared sermon last month. “It’s about a godly nation standing against the forces of oppression. Ukraine is crying out, and we cannot turn away.”
The evangelical push has spilled beyond church walls into public action. In early February 2025, hundreds gathered outside the U.S. Capitol for a “Pray for Ukraine” vigil organized by the Family Research Council, a prominent evangelical advocacy group. Candles flickered as attendees sang hymns and wiped away tears, their signs reading “Stand with the Persecuted” and “Freedom is God’s Gift.” Speakers, including evangelical leaders like Franklin Graham, implored lawmakers to approve more military and humanitarian aid. “This is a David-and-Goliath moment,” Graham declared, his voice thick with emotion. “Ukraine is David, and we must give them the stones to fight.”
Such scenes have repeated across the country, from Texas megachurches to rural prayer meetings. Social media amplifies the message, with hashtags like #PrayForUkraine and #EvangelicalsForFreedom trending among Christian influencers. Videos of Ukrainian pastors pleading for help—often filmed in bomb shelters—circulate widely, tugging at evangelical heartstrings. For a community that thrives on personal testimony, these raw appeals hit home.
THE DANGER OF EMPATHY DIVORCED FROM REASON
The tide has longed turn decisively against Kyiv. It’s not a recent turn, as State Department media would have you believe; it’s been lost since almost the beginning, but the U.S. government has spent billions censoring authentic media and pushing propaganda to American citizens. Once hailed for its stunning resilience—repelling Moscow’s initial blitz and reclaiming swathes of territory in 2022—Ukraine now faces a grim reality. Russian forces are advancing, while Ukraine’s defenses crumble under mounting pressures. From the battlefield to the home front, and from Washington to Brussels, the signs of Ukraine losing the war are increasingly hard to ignore.
On the ground, Ukraine is hemorrhaging territory and troops at an alarming rate. Russian forces, bolstered by a war economy and foreign support from nations like North Korea and Iran, have regained the initiative. By early 2025, Moscow controls roughly 20% of Ukraine, including Crimea and much of the Donbas, with incremental gains piling up in the east. Towns like Toretsk and Chasiv Yar have become meat grinders, where Ukrainian units—outnumbered and outgunned—struggle to hold the line. Reports suggest Russia’s attritional strategy, trading thousands of casualties for mere kilometers, is working: Ukraine simply can’t match the manpower or matériel.
The numbers tell a stark story. Estimates place Ukrainian military deaths between 60,000 and 70,000, with over 390,000 wounded—a devastating toll for a nation of 38–42 million. Ukraine’s 2023 counteroffensive faltered against fortified Russian lines, and subsequent attempts to regain momentum—like the incursion into Russia’s Kursk region—have failed to shift the strategic balance. Meanwhile, shortages of anti-air missiles leave cities vulnerable to relentless Russian strikes, further eroding morale and infrastructure.
Manpower is Ukraine’s Achilles’ heel. The professional core that held firm in 2022 has been depleted, replaced by a patchwork of conscripts—teachers, farmers, and tech workers thrust into combat with minimal training. A recent exposé on the 155th Anne of Kyiv Brigade revealed high desertion rates and poor preparation, even after Western training. Without fresh bodies, defensive lines thin daily, and Russia exploits the gaps.
Compounding this, millions of Ukrainians have fled abroad, shrinking the pool of potential recruits. Efforts to conscript refugees in Europe remain politically fraught and logistically unfeasible. The harsh truth of infantry warfare—where survival odds plummet with time—means the volunteers of 2022 face burnout or worse, with few replacements stepping up.
Ukraine’s economy teeters on the edge. GDP growth forecasts for 2025 range from 2.5% to 7%, buoyed by Western aid and a surge in domestic defense production (from 1.3 billion hryvnia in 2022 to 20 billion in 2024). But this pales against the devastation: bombed-out cities, disrupted agriculture, and a reliance on foreign handouts. The U.S. has poured in $95 billion since 2022, but both the U.S. and Europe together can’t fill that gap.
Russia’s economy holds steady thanks to trade with China and India. Ukraine’s factories, even those producing drones and high-tech gear, can’t match Moscow’s output of tanks and artillery, much of it Soviet-era stock being refurbished. The disparity leaves Kyiv dependent on Western goodwill—a goodwill that’s waning as donor fatigue sets in.
Allies grow weary. European publics, facing their own economic woes, question the cost of arming Ukraine indefinitely. Sanctions on Russia, now in their fifteenth EU round, haven’t broken Moscow’s resolve, and loopholes via neutral countries blunt their impact. Ukraine’s pleas for long-range strikes into Russia or faster aid deliveries often fall on deaf ears, as allies prioritize de-escalation over victory.
At home, the Ukrainian spirit is cracking. Polls show a seismic shift: in early 2022, over half believed in a military win; by February 2025, 80% see diplomacy as the likely endgame. Optimism fades as blackouts, drone strikes, and conscription notices dominate daily life. Propagandists are quick to point out Zelenskyy’s approval is still at 63%, but not only is that figure likely propaganda itself, there’s no legitimate, independent media in the country to explain to citizens how bad it truly is.
ENDING THE WAR IS CHRISTIAN CHARITY
Ukraine lies bleeding, its cities rubble, its people broken. Christians have wept, prayed, and cheered as billions in aid propped up Kyiv’s defiance. But enough is enough. The war drags on—a pointless, grinding massacre—and the so-called support pouring in only fuels the fire. The most Christian thing to do isn’t to keep arming Ukraine; it’s to cut off the aid, choke the conflict, and demand peace now. This isn’t weakness—it’s obedience to God’s clear commands: prioritize peace, show mercy, and stop squandering what’s sacred on a lost cause.
Peace Isn’t Optional—It’s a Command
Jesus didn’t mince words: “Blessed are the peacemakers” (Matthew 5:9). Yet what have we done? Pumped Ukraine full of weapons—$95 billion from the U.S. alone—ensuring the killing never stops. Russia creeps forward, Ukraine clings to crumbling lines, and the body count soars: 60,000 Ukrainian dead, 600,000 Russian casualties. Every tank, every rocket we send prolongs this butchery. Christians aren’t called to bankroll slaughter; we’re called to end it. Cut the aid, and Ukraine’s war machine stalls. Russia, facing no resistance, might finally sit down. Peace—ugly, messy peace—beats this endless hell. “Seek peace and pursue it” (Psalm 34:14) isn’t a suggestion—it’s a mandate we’re defying.
Mercy, Not More Blood
“Vengeance is mine,” says the Lord (Romans 12:19). So why are we playing executioner? Arming Ukraine to punish Russia isn’t justice—it’s vengeance, and it’s drowning both nations in blood. Young Ukrainian conscripts, ripped from their lives, die in muddy ditches. Russian boys, press-ganged into Putin’s meat grinder, rot beside them. We call it “support,” but it’s a death sentence for tens of thousands. Mercy demands we stop this madness—yes, even if it means Russia “wins.” Love your enemies (Matthew 5:44), Christ commands, not blow them to bits with American missiles. Cut the cord, and the killing stops. That’s mercy, not betrayal.
Stop Wasting God’s Gifts
Billions squandered on bombs—billions that could feed the starving, shelter the homeless, heal the broken. Matthew 25:40 isn’t a metaphor: “Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me.” Are we serving Jesus by funneling cash to a war Ukraine can’t win? Its economy’s a husk, its people flee, its front lines collapse—yet we keep throwing good money after bad. Russia’s still standing, propped up by China and North Korea, while our own poor go hungry. This isn’t stewardship—it’s reckless, sinful waste. Pull the plug, redirect the funds, and honor God with what He’s given us. Anything less mocks the parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14–30).
Quit Peddling False Hope
“Hope deferred makes the heart sick” (Proverbs 13:12). Ukraine’s leaders strut with fantasies of retaking Crimea, joining NATO, crushing Russia—pipe dreams we’ve fed with every aid package. It’s a lie, and it’s cruel. Russia’s war machine churns on; Ukraine’s troops desert or die. Trump’s talks in Saudi Arabia this month sidelined Kyiv, proving the West’s resolve is crumbling. Stop stringing Ukraine along with false promises—cut the aid, force the truth: this war’s over. It’s not abandonment; it’s ripping off the bandage so healing can start. Prolonging the fight with empty hope is cowardice, not compassion.
Pick Life Over Pride
Don’t dare call this surrender to evil—it’s surrender to reality. Russia’s a brute, but Ukraine’s not winning. Territory’s lost; more will be. So what? Lives matter more than lines on a map. Christians don’t cling to pride—we bear crosses (Matthew 16:24). Let Ukraine lose land to save souls. History’s clear: wars end when the money or will runs dry, not when one side parades in triumph. Stop the aid, and the end comes fast. That’s the greater good—life over ego, God’s way over man’s.
Act Like Christians, Not Warlords
We don’t abandon Ukraine by cutting aid—we reframe our duty. Pray like never before. Flood the refugees with help. Push for talks, not tanks. James 2:16 damns hollow words, but action doesn’t mean ammo—it means mercy, relief, reconciliation. The war’s a festering wound; more weapons rip it wider. Starve the beast, and peace breaks through.
As of February 28, 2025, Ukraine’s on its knees, Russia’s unbowed, and we’re complicit in the carnage. The Christian call is loud and fierce: stop the aid, end the war, trust God with the fallout. Anything less betrays the Prince of Peace. Do it now—before another soul dies for nothing.
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