Christian Nationalism?

Have you ever been on a church committee? Or to a church?

If you’ve ever been part of an American church, and I mean part of a real church in a community, it should be pretty apparent that the endless anxiety about Christian Nationalism is a bit overwrought.

I have been in church for as long as I can remember; quite a few years before I actually became a believer, in fact. Deep in my mind’s eye I can see the way our church nursery was arranged when I was a small child. I even attended a Christian school in Virginia when my dad came back from Vietnam and was stationed at what was then Ft. Monroe. (I was not very devout at five, discovering as I did a great fondness for the little brown-haired girl named Lisa who distracted me in class with her blue-checked dress. I think I held her hand while we were singing on stage once.)

My father was later a United Methodist pastor. I grew up in that denomination, and have memories of everything from the Apostle’s Creed (which I still love) to the Revelations/rapture obsession of the 70s when coming home to an empty house after school was really worrisome. (Mom? Dad? Anybody here? Dang it!)

I well remember dad’s devotion to his calling, his love of his flock, his endless frustration with church politics and the many difficult personalities that made up church leadership and congregations. I still smile at his comment, once made casually: ‘Edwin, what this church needs is some funerals.’

My wife was raised in the shaped-notes, a cappella Church of Christ, where she learned her Bible well, and which she faithfully attended throughout her childhood and youth and much of her college career. We sometimes still go with her father.

When we married we spent time as part of a Christian Missionary Alliance congregation in Indianapolis. Jan, at that time, was student activities director for the delightful Marian College (now Marian University) in Indianapolis. She developed a deep and abiding love for the Sisters of St. Francis who founded and continued to manage the school.

When we moved to South Carolina we joined a Southern Baptist Church. I myself was later a deacon in that church where my wife was also, for a time, our youth director. She and I still attend a community church that is part of the Southern Baptist Convention.

I tend to listen to podcasts and read books by Orthodox and Catholic thinkers. Jan still sometimes listens to Catholic radio, alternating with sermons by Pastor Tony Evans and interviews by Jim Daly of Focus on the Family.

I give this history to show that Jan and I have experienced a fairly wide swath of American Christianity. And the funny thing is that I would be hard-pressed to pinpoint anyone in my faith journey who was what I would consider a Christian Nationalist. More to the point, it would be pretty hard to find anyone capable of making even the slightest theocracy a reality.

Many years ago I heard someone say, ‘leading physicians is like herding cats.’ Having been a physician since 1990, I think that’s fairly accurate. We don’t work or play well together.

The same thing could probably be said for many Christians.

I have been part of church decision making processes. A host of issues regularly present themselves to bishops, pastors, priests, nuns, deacons and congregations. The topics that face churches can range from the theologically profound to the mind-numbingly mundane.

What color should we paint the sanctuary?

How often should we change the flowers on the altar?

Is it time for new carpet?

Folding chairs or pews?

Should we sing the old hymns or the latest worship music by Hillsong?

Shall we have both a traditional service and a contemporary service?

What if people are offended by one or the other?

Is it OK to have coffee in the sanctuary?

Do we worship in person during a time of pandemic?

Should babies be in the service, since they cry?

Should babies be baptized?

What’s up with Pope Francis?

Does Orthodoxy recognize the Russian Orthodox Church? Or vice-versa?

How do we best love our neighbors in the midst of dramatic cultural shifts?

Which of the new youth pastor applicants shall we interview?

How do we atone, as a church, for sexual abuse scandals?

How can we find a way to pay our new pastor more since he and his wife are expecting?

What community ministry really needs our money the most? And how can we raise more?

How do we serve the homeless community in the midst of a drug epidemic?

Just how much money does Joel Osteen and his ilk need when most pastors barely pay their bills?

This list just barely scratches the surface.

Topics like these take up days, weeks, months and sometimes years of time in churches. Larger doctrinal issues, for instance on the canon of scripture and the delineation of doctrine, took literally hundreds of years for the early church to pin down (and there’s still division).

Mind you, this isn’t only because we’re inefficient or indecisive. Sometimes it’s from a surplus of patience and love, a desire to pursue truth, find and follow God’s will, honor God’s word and be inclusive and respectful towards our fellow believers. (Oh, and the fact that some committee meetings might only happen once a month.)

In addition, being sinful humans, sometimes decisions are also delayed because of petty infighting, evil intentions, vanity, greed, anger and all of the other things for which we’re supposed to be confessing and repenting. (Thus the ‘this church needs some funerals’ comment by dad.)

Just as relevant, Christianity is sadly divided and subdivided. Estimates suggest that there are about 200 Protestant denominations. And as a Protestant I suspect the number is higher, especially if we include the various small community and/or family and home churches across the land.

There are also divisions in Catholicism and Orthodoxy, some based on manner of worship, issues of doctrine or ethnic origins and doubtless many other things which I am neither sufficiently informed nor qualified to discuss.

Now I’m sure that there are those who genuinely believe in Christian nationalism. Who, for reasons noble and ignoble, want to shape the nation based on Christian teaching, through legislation and the courts. Some of them are dangerous people. Some just believe that it’s our duty to bring the the Kingdom of Heaven on earth through political activity. Some simply miss the entire point of the faith.

Honestly though, it really shouldn’t be surprising when American Christians, or any other group, try to shape local or national issues in conformity with their beliefs. What group doesn’t? It’s true of Christians, Muslims, Marxists, environmentalists, members of the LGBT community and all the rest. In a diverse country like this, we’re all scrambling for influence and a seat at the table.

However, Christians who have in view some sort of general theocracy overestimate our ability to get along. I mean, if we can’t all agree on the authority of scripture, the real presence of Christ in the bread and wine of the Eucharist, the way to baptize (dunk vs sprinkle vs pour) or which of the latest VBS themes to use (Jesus in Space? Jesus on Safari?), then it’s highly unlikely we can assume control of the halls of power and reshape the country by will alone. Even different flavors of Baptists struggle to see eye to eye.

I hear there are urban Baptists who bake their chicken instead of frying it. Jesus wept indeed.

Top down attempts at Christian Nationalism has been tried throughout history with greater and lesser success. Sometimes with the establishment of solid, unifying national churches, other times with conversions at the point of the sword. But those blood-lettings always dishonored Jesus who found himself at the point of thorns, nails and a spear, and who never suggested conversion by threat of coercion. I believe he made it clear how he felt about politics when he said we should ‘render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and unto God what is God’s.’ And when he said to Pilate ‘My Kingdom is not of this world.’

We influence the culture, and the body politic, best when we do it with healthy doses of truth and love, love and truth anchored in scripture and tradition. This can certainly involve political advocacy. That isn’t wrong. There’s certainly nothing inconsistent about very devout believers being political, or even being politicians. If you need evidence of that, simply read about William Wilberforce, the English Christian and member of parliament, who through a lifetime of persistent political influence ended slavery in the the United Kingdom.

But Christians are called to do it all in a manner consistent with the teachings of Jesus. As lights in the darkness, not bonfires on which we throw our opponents. Nero lit Christians on fire to light his gardens. We don’t want to take anything from his playbook.

While we may overestimate our ability to work together for political influence, perhaps the worst part of our obsession with politics is that we also underestimate the thing we say we believe. Which is that the God of the universe became incarnate to transform mankind out of sin and brokenness and make us like himself, full of love, wisdom and fearless holiness.

We forget that our faith teaches us that our ultimate destiny is not to dwell in some kind of earthly political utopia but an eternal kingdom. We underestimate the immensity of the fact that the same God is with us all the time, guiding us and empowering us, comforting us and healing us. Political power, by comparison, is weak, transitory thing; even as much as it is necessary.

I suppose it’s wise for everyone, secular or religious, to beware those intoxicated with the idea of suppressing dissent and making everyone do just what they want. But then, we’re all capable of it, every last one of us and make no mistake. And that makes all of us just a little dangerous, whatever our political or cultural inclination. The banning of books, or ideas, isn’t limited to conservatives or theists.

Fortunately, (and this is very important) most of us have jobs to do, families to raise, parents to help, homes to maintain, anxiety and depression to face, illness to endure and are just too tired at the end of the day for too much political engagement of any sort, much less establishment of an official American church.

‘Honey, I was going to establish an oppressive religious government today, but frankly I have a meeting in the morning and I’m just exhausted!’

Tell you what. From my end of things, I’ll just keep helping and encouraging my Christian brothers and sisters to do good, speak hope and truth, reach out into the community and keep loving people. As they overwhelmingly do every week around the country and around the world. (Sensational headlines aside.) And when they’re political to act like Christians.

And if Christian Nationalism starts to get out of hand, I’ll just go to the meetings and change the topic to something like ‘what sort of casseroles do y’all want to bring to the next meeting? What about that Clemson game?’ That will derail things, let me tell you.

So far, however, nobody has invited me to the organizational meetings. Hurtful. But reassuring.

I’m no sociologist or political scientist. I’m not a theologian either. Maybe I’m wrong; only time will tell. But based on what I see, and what I hear, I think that at least in America, Christian Nationalism isn’t about to take over. Which is fine with me, because I believe God was already in control and doesn’t need our politics to do His will.

And I really don’t need any more meetings to attend.

Edwin