Christian Nationalism: Shibboleths for a Social Media Age
Dr. Timothy Padgett
Christian Nationalism is one of those terms that crops up from time to time that seems to come from nowhere but suddenly seems to be everywhere. It is the sort of thing where it had been the domain of scholars, if even there, whereas now it shows up in our social discourse with regularity. While it has been something of a shibboleth for many, offering an easy way to discern the clean from the unclean, for a great many others, likely the majority, they can recognize all the sound of fury surrounding its use, but they can make little to nothing of what it might mean for them.
This is one of the biggest problems in dealing with this new term, simply knowing what it is. For its critics, Christian Nationalism is the latest iteration, perhaps the most quintessential example, of a longstanding trend in Christian and Christian-adjacent circles, to conflate the cross and the flag, to lay the truths of the Gospel at the feet of the idol of nationalism. For its adherents, on the other hand, it is nothing more than the equally longstanding call for believers in Christ to be faithful in all areas of life, including and especially in the political sphere.
For both extremes, nearly all attempts in history for Christians to bring their faith into the public square was Christian Nationalism, even if nearly everyone involved in these past efforts would not recognize themselves in the term so confidently applied to them. For each of them, where one lies in this debate is not just about one option or perspective among many but about our fundamental faithfulness to God. It is everything and everywhere.
In this sense, it resembles some of the other catchphrases that have caught the world’s fancy in recent years. It was only a couple of years ago that just as much energy was expended by keyboard warriors battling over the likes of socialism or Critical Race Theory. How many times have we seen wannabe socialists declaim something to the effect that “If you don’t like socialism, then I guess you’re against the fire department!”? How often did their friends on the libertarian end of the spectrum decry, with equal ferocity, that taxation is theft and even government sponsored roads were paths to socialism?
With Critical Race Theory, the parallels to our current debate are even more striking, with CRT standing in for CN. You have the same critiques that an attempt to engage on racial issues and history, no matter by who or when, are CRT. Likewise, you have the same defenses claiming that anyone coming out against it has clearly not read the relevant literature, is secretly, or at least tacitly, in favor of what CRT opposes, or is somehow beholden to the evangelical establishment. This bit of parallelism may have more to say about the nature of our sociological moment than it does any of the relative merits of either proposed idea.
In practice, many of the discussions about Christian Nationalism have taken on some of this sort of veneer. Opponents find Christian Nationalism even in the most innocuous and longstanding principles of Christian social action such as opposition to pro-LGBT legislation and a desire for religious liberty. At the same time, supporters dabble in histrionic claims that it is a simple choice for the Church today, either Christian Nationalism or “transing” your kids.
For some of us, paying attention to the tennis match of social media interactions about social issues is part of our job. For others, and may they always know how lucky they are, these conflicts live on the fringes of their awareness, kind of the way they might know that the latest fashion or fad exists but need not interact with it in any meaningful way. What they cannot do, or at least what any faithful Christian cannot in good conscience do, is wholly ignore the question of what it looks like for the believer to live a citizen of their nation and of heaven with their integrity intact.
The Tension of the Christian
These debates over Christian Nationalism touch at the heart of a consistent question for believers — how to live out our Christian faith outside church walls. When it comes to political engagement, there is a strange sort of uniformity about the Christian’s responsibility. All else being equal, everyone agrees that one should not politicize the Gospel, that never should the concerns of the civic order trump our loyalties to Christ and His Church. What they cannot agree on is how this shared ideal relates to how we do things in practice.
As a real-life incarnation of the proverb about geese and ganders, we tend to see the engagement of others as an ungodly capitulation of biblical truths to partisan influence while viewing our own equivalent acts as nothing more than the righteous application of Christian principles to the public good. Or, to put it more pointedly, we readily assent that, as the bumper sticker says, “Jesus is not a Republican or a Democrat,” but we really have trouble thinking that He could ever vote in a way we would not.
Consider the ways that Christians have tried to maintain their balance. Bear in mind that these options are purely heuristic, being neither exhaustive nor ultimately mutually exclusive. The first, and in some ways the easiest, is what we might call quietism. If engaging in politics entangles us so often in the corrosive and compromising ethics of underhand deals, perhaps the best thing for us to do is to stay out of it entirely. We can see this in the tendencies of the Early Church, of some elements of monasticism, and many end-times-oriented groups throughout history.
While these examples may rightly be seen as unique, the result of particular circumstances and idiosyncratic theologies, the same theme appears, often in Reformed circles, in what is known as “spirituality of the Church.” Others, somewhat more notably, appeal to the tradition of Anabaptism, highlighting the call of Christ in John 17 for the people of God to be “not of the world.” Though it varies greatly from group to group, the focus here is that it is not the Church’s job to become involved in the affairs of the world but should concentrate its energy on its true calling to worship, prayer, evangelism, and, depending on what is meant, care for the poor.
Again, given what passes for “civil” discourse these days, this is at least an understandable reaction. Where this can go wrong is that it can devolve into an almost agnostic, or even gnostic, approach to our duties in this world. That is, in despair of the chaos and unChristlike behavior of the politically active, we can convince ourselves that there is simply no way to know what the right choice might be. Or, it may get to the point of isolating ourselves from the concerns around us entirely, treating the political sphere as solely a worldly affair.
Now, it is rarely to this extreme, but there are echoes of this in many of the criticisms of Christian Nationalism. Granted, this critique shows up in different ways, depending on who is doing the criticizing. For more secular platforms, like the New York Times, the fear is that Christian Nationalists are going to subject the state to the Church. On the other hand, the more religiously minded, like Sojourners founder Jim Wallis, the worry is that those claiming the name of Christ are abdicating their prophetic role to the needs of party and state. Or, more specific to this situation, there are the rebukes Russell Moore has offered, specifically to pro-Trump Christians, that too often the faith once received is now seen, by believers and non-believers, as a superficially spiritual means to a worldly end.
What merits and appeal the various versions of quietism may hold, there remain some real issues that make this a less than ideal approach. Frankly, it is awfully hard to put this into practice in a consistently moral way. The most obvious way we see this happen is that almost no one does quietism well across the board. Those like L. Nelson Bell, who protested against Church involvement in the fight against segregation in the 20th century on the basis of the spirituality of the Church, filled the pages of Southern Presbyterian Journal and Christianity Today with very specific policy advice for the government. Likewise, using the aforementioned Wallis as an example, the critics of Christian Nationalism very often have very concrete ideas for the way the nation should be run in line with Chrisitan practice.
However, the most important reason why we cannot in good conscience as Christians say and do nothing in the public square, is that it would be wrong to stay out. There are great evils in this world, and they must be challenged by word and deed. Loving our neighbors is about more than saving souls. It is also about saving and even improving lives. The testimony of the prophets and apostles, theologians and reformers down through the millennia remind us that staying quiet might be alluring, but it is not always the right thing to do.
The next approach to engaging the political world is what you might call “moderation.” This perspective embraces both the idea that civic engagement is intrinsically messy and that Christians cannot stand aloof but still seeks a way to avoid the worst effects. In essence, if the problem is getting carried away by partisanship and extremes, then perhaps the solution is to avoid the ends of the spectrum and set up camp in the middle. Since intentional centrism does not stand out in a crowd quite so clearly as quietism, there is a far smaller historical footprint. In many ways, it is something of a variation on the principles and motivations found in quietism, with the primary difference being that rather than trying to remain above the fight, centrism strives for a balance between the contestants.
There is a great deal of wisdom in this approach. In fact, it is quite pragmatic. Given the complexity of life, it is very unlikely that only one “side” is going to have a monopoly when it comes to virtue, nor when it comes to vice. If conservatives place an emphasis on the value of enduring truths and objective morality, progressives prioritize the importance of new ideas heeding the needs of the voiceless. Likewise, if the Right can be far too nostalgic about the nobility of the past, the Left can be downright naïve about the possibilities of the future. The logic here, then, is to recognize the strengths and weaknesses of either side and to establish a common ground or general agreement, taking account of each.
As with quietism, there is a lot of sense and value in this kind of approach. It is a way of maintaining an awareness of the complexities of life and keeping a distance between our positions and our passions. Particularly in an age where the center has not held and too many are all-or-nothing in their civic affiliations, being self-consciously moderate can be a breath of fresh air.
Even so, there are temptations and blind spots intrinsic to this perspective as well. Sometimes taking the middle ground between two points leads to moral compromise. Let us consider an extreme example. If it is 1928 in Berlin, it is not a sign of wisdom to take the middle ground between Nazism and Communism. There is no value in looking to what each side offers that is worthwhile. There is no morality in engaging in tu quoque spats between them. That is, sometimes the middle ground between two warring parties is still awful. Thankfully, we do not have to choose between such totalitarian monsters, but the point remains. The Christian’s goal in politics is not, and cannot be, to find the balance between two points on the one-dimensional spectrum of the moment but to be centered on the enduring truth of what God says is real and right.
The final way Christians engage in politics is what we could call advocacy or activism. The precise name used is far less important than the goals and methods involved. Either because it is a native temperament or born of recognizing the inadequacies of other options, many Christians wholly engage in party politics, fully cognizant of the fact that this means, at times, being involved with unhealthy practices and unsavory characters. One might even term this “realism,” as it sees the attempt to avoid the messiness of political life as idealistic or utopian. What this means in practice is accepting that being in the trenches will get you dirty, and sometimes even taking a little too much joy in the battle.
The most obvious, or at least the most talked about, example of this is the way that for the last several decades, white evangelicals vote overwhelmingly for the Republican Party. Even when we acknowledge that the famous 81% in the 2016 election needs some nuance when it comes to actual church attendance and similar issues, it is a given in many minds that the religious vote goes to the Right. What is less obvious, though no less real, is the reality that when it comes to the “Moral Minority” of the evangelical Left or for much of the Black Church, the Christian conscience leans to the Left, and largely the Democratic Party.
The problems with this perspective are more apparent, even when they are openly acknowledged. And this can create its own set of problems. After all, just because we acknowledge a problem, that does not make it any less of a problem. If we are compromised, whether only by impression or in reality, our zeal may do more harm than good. Perhaps the clearest problem with this approach is the tendency to see those who have chosen another path or another party as not just incorrect but unfaithful.
It is here that much of the question of Christian Nationalism resides. As noted above, the battle against this perspective is treated by the varied combatants as the battle of our age. This is implicitly so as its critics can define fidelity to Christ in opposition to Christian Nationalism. It is explicitly so since much of the argument in favor of Christian Nationalism, as the name suggests, entails that their stance incarnates “the” Christian position. Further, the track of battle over Christian Nationalism parallels in many ways the related debates over “winsomeness,” with those favoring Nationalism often characterizing the efforts of their opponents as unwilling to commit to the fight.
What is Christian Nationalism?
Christian Nationalism is similar to other movements that have existed in the past, and which, in many cases, continue into the present. There has long been a tradition in broader evangelicalism, often proclaimed by people like Francis Schaeffer and Carl F. H. Henry, that America in particular, and the West in general, owed its liberties and prosperity to the influence of Christianity upon their cultural and governmental practices. We can see this same theme in the recent works of Os Guinness, as well. However, those are not Christian Nationalism, since it is a question of blessed influence and not legal constructions.
This newer movement is similar to the ideas of Reconstruction, Theonomy, and Dominionism that gained a measure of prominence in the later 20th century. It would be too much to say that Christian Nationalism descends from these or that they are coextensive. However, there is in each the contention that both out of obedience to God and, despite its reputation, love for neighbor, the Christian’s duty in whatever land is to work for a culture and specifically a state where Christian principles are not just honored and followed but put into official law.
One of the sources that brought attention to both the concept and the term to more popular awareness was the 2020 book by Andrew L. Whitehead and Samuel L. Perry entitled, Taking America Back for God: Christian Nationalism in the United States. As may be surmised from the name, this is a critical take on Christian Nationalism. It is less an engagement with the theory of Christian Nationalism as it has come to be in the last few years and more a study of American folk religion, the tendency to deck the halls of the church with red, white, and blue bunting and to conflate the glory of the United States with the will of God. As such, there is not much analysis of the ideals and proposals of what Christian Nationalists think, instead examining habits, practices, slogans, and statistics.
On the one hand, the analysis is interesting and draws on quantifiable data. On the other, there is something of the feeling of a travelogue to it, where the “exotic” and confusing lifestyles of rustics are explained to the urbane readers. In this sense, Christian Nationalism shown here is not a proposal for political action or set of principles but just the way that a wide swath of Americans live out their faith. Frankly, the authors’ boundaries for their subject are too wide. For instance, one of their criteria for being a Christian Nationalist is thinking that America has a special place in God’s plan for human history. The end result is a definition that is so broad that nearly everyone in the past few centuries would be a Christian Nationalist, from Thomas Jefferson to Abraham Lincoln to Winston Churchill to Martin Luther King, Jr.
Another book dealing with the overall issue is the 2023 title, The Godless Crusade: Religion, Populism and Right-Wing Identity Politics in the West by Tobias Cremer. Unlike the earlier work, this one looks at the place of self-described Christian political parties across the West, using groups from Germany, France, and America as examples. Also in contrast to Whitehead and Perry, Cremer is engaging with formal statements and party platforms, not just popular representations.
His specific contention is that, while these groups are quite open about the Christian part of their nationalism, the Christianity involved is an ethnic, not religious, marker. This is more than a dispute between coreligionists. He cites numerous cases, particularly with the Europeans, where the spiritual or theological elements of Christianity are downgraded or dismissed by the Christian Nationalists themselves. Christianity for these groups is not a matter of the Bible or faith or even, in some cases, ethics. It is instead about the cultural inheritance of Western civilization. While this is undoubtedly accurate for a great many groups claiming the name Christian and casts some cold water on the genuineness or even value of purely nominal associations, the subjects of this study remain somewhat distinct from many other articulations of Christian Nationalism.
One of the most important authors to consider in this discussion is also one of the most ironic. After all, Yoram Hazony may add a lot to the questions surrounding Christian Nationalism, but, being Jewish, he is not a Christian. Nonetheless, his works provide a great deal in terms of bigger picture definitions and concepts of history, nation, and purpose. His 2018 book The Virtue of Nationalism and his 2022 title Conservatism: A Rediscovery are some of the most thoroughgoing explications of the principles behind the recent movement available. The gist of his goal is that in order for society to thrive, the integrity of nations as real entities must be prized and that the Anglo-American experiment requires allowing a privileged position for a broad Judeo-Christian religion and anthropology.
While the whole of his thought cannot be demonstrated here, two of his primary contentions are, as his earlier title suggests, the virtue of nations and the dangers of classical liberalism. With each of these, we can see some of the most consistent traits of those calling for a renewed nationalism, Christian or otherwise, that of taking a good thing too far. He argues that nations are good and beautiful, and they are. He claims that the hyper-individualism of philosophical liberalism is problematic to an unsustainable degree, and it is. But a long view of history shows that nations are far more malleable than his ideal allows, with shifting borders and changing customs being the norm. Likewise, classical liberalism is as much about positive things like free faith, free press, and free speech as it is any negative atomistic view of human beings.
John Wilsey of Southern Seminary in Louisville has written extensively on the question of God and state in his various histories, and in his April 2023 article, “The Christian Prince Against The Dad Bod: An Assessment Of The Case For Christian Nationalism,” he offered a respectful critique of one of Christian Nationalism’s primary recent texts, The Case for Christian Nationalism by Stephen Wolfe. It was so respectful, in fact, that it earned the praise of Wolfe as a “model book review.” But a critique, it remained. That is, while he repeatedly insisted upon Wolfe’s clarity of purpose and definition, he nonetheless claimed that the philosophical foundations of the project were inconsistent with American tradition.
As Wilsey puts it, “Wolfe seeks a ‘great renewal’ of the nation through the Christian prince, but I contend that the renewal that we need is a renewal of tradition, reverence for the Constitution, and adherence to American ideals and institutions.” Fundamentally, according to Wisley, Wolfe sees in classical liberalism – a term that embraces much of American political thinking in the last century – the villain of our story and calls for a hero “Prince” who reorients the culture in line with, what Wilsey argues, is a Hegelian view of life.
What is likely the most well-known recent treatment of Christian Nationalism is this work by Wolfe, The Case for Christian Nationalism. Rather than Hazony’s general theistic perspective, Wolfe calls for a distinctively Reformed Christian state with a “Prince” empowered not just to keep justice and order but to enforce a specifically Calvinistic worship on all society. People would not be compelled to be Christian, but non-Christian worship would be legally curtailed. He roots his argument in the opinions of a wide variety of Reformed voices of the last few centuries, claiming in this way that what he has proposed is “the” Reformed position on the state.
This work is very well researched, and it cannot be faulted for the care taken. What is more, in contrast to the political parties survey by Cremer, there is no suggestion that Wolfe seeks only a superficial veneer of Christianity in his system. However, despite this thoroughness, problems remain. Providing a list of quotations by people in the past is not the same as demonstrating that a certain system is necessary or even viable in the present. That is, while it is always wise to take heed of what others have said, it does not follow that they were right in their own day or that their advice will work going forward.
This is a complex work in many ways, but it suffers from at least two of the common problems in this literature. First, while much of the book does honest labor in scholarly concerns over plausible questions, the final chapter “jumps the rails” off into assumptions of what “the” Christian position should be over debatable and even idiosyncratic policies and customs. For instance, towards the conclusion Wolfe argues, “If our opponents want to be fat, have low testosterone, and chug vegetable oil, let them. It won’t be us.” That may be interesting, but it does not have much to do with the Christian or even Reformed view of the state.
Second, and most troublingly, a key component of Wolfe’s thesis is that every nation should have its own state. In and of itself, this is akin to many 19th century slogans calling for independence from imperial power. The problem is that Wolfe regularly uses the term “ethnicity” in this regard, normally in a very broad, cultural sense. However, he also uses in its more ordinary meaning with racial connotations. “To be sure, I am not saying that ethnic majorities today should work to rescind citizenship from ethnic minorities, though perhaps in some cases amicable ethnic separation along political lines is mutually desired.” This acceptance, even in theory, of racial segregation is a non-starter. Even this hesitant appeal opens the door to the dangerous ethnonationalism that plagued the 19th and 20th centuries and, ironically, echoes what progressive advocates of critical theories would hold.
Evaluating Christian Nationalism
Related to these various voices, both pro- and con-, we see one of the constraints on evaluating the issue of Christian Nationalism is that it is not one thing but several. Certainly, there is common ground and overlap, but they cannot all be Christian Nationalism. The most obvious of these is that Hazony’s relatively innocuous Judeo-Christian establishment can hardly meld well with Wolfe’s formal Christian state. Less obviously is the fact that in some of its versions, different denominations of Christians, even different Christian Nationalists, would find themselves prosecuted for heresy if another group came to power. What, then, would happen to Christians who lacked any taint of theological heresy but opposed and even resisted Christian Nationalism? Where would these latter-day Mensheviks fit in the new order?
So, are we talking about a broad Judeo-Christian consensus? A Roman Catholic integralism? A general Protestant state? A specifically Calvinist one? An ethnonationalist regime? A reasonable case could be made for saying that the “true” Christian Nationalism is any one of these. Most likely the majority of believers who support it mean something like the first, but from the writings of some of the movement’s leading voices, both online and in print, there are unfortunate rumblings of the latter few.
A small critique is that it is simply a lousy name. Its defenders may say that they do not mean by “Nationalism” what its critics claim, but of all the possible titles for a movement, this is choosing one that foes can get the most mileage out of. Frankly, given the associations with horrible totalitarian groups, both left and right, during the last century or so, using “Nationalism” is an unforced error. For example, in Hazony’s book Conservatism, despite the title, he quite regularly uses the term “Nationalist” to describe policies and ideas that could more easily be termed “conservative,” “traditional,” “federalist,” “classical,” or a host of other names that few would think to link with dictatorships.
Regarding more substantial concerns, first, as noted above, Christian Nationalism is overly broad. Take for example the definition entitled, “The Statement on Christian Nationalism and the Gospel.” It begins by saying that Christian Nationalism is “rooted in Scripture’s teaching that Christ rules as supreme Lord and King of all creation.” This is a very good place to begin. So good, in fact, that it would be hard to find a Christian who would not agree – Protestant, Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Anabaptist, Progressive, or what-have-you.
While a wide, multidenominational approach would make it hard to build consensus, this is not the real problem. The real concern is that the statement moves from this basic claim to a series of narrower ones. That is, hopefully all Christians would see Christ as king, and most would be keen to seek to see His kingdom in some way brought about in their nations. But not everyone would see this in terms of an Anglo-American conservatism, and fewer of these would consent to the specific claims made about foreign affairs such as involvement in the Russo-Ukrainian War or membership in the World Health Organization.
Second, Christian Nationalism fails to make sufficient distinction between the nation and the state. Earlier this year, the nation of Hungary, which has become something of a model for Christian Nationalists, sent a cross into its skies. In honoring its patron saint, the government commissioned a fleet of drones over Budapest to form a shape of the cross. Many bemoaned that while this European country could light its skies with the cross, there was little chance of seeing a similar event here in the States.
However, there are two things worth noting about this. One, this was an act by the Hungarian government, and all else being equal, there is no law in the US Constitution barring such a spectacle produced by private groups, religious or otherwise. Two, as hinted at in the Cremer book, there is no necessary connection between Christian statements by government entities and key indicators of actual faithfulness by the people. In Hungary and other parts of Eastern Europe, official stances by the state have not yielded increased church attendance by the citizenry.
Being a Christian nation in a notional sense is not the same as one where Christianity is the dominant thought form. That ought to be the goal. It will do the Church and the nation little good to be Christian in terms of its official status yet remain faithless in terms of its culture. This is not a call to inaction, much less to indifference, regarding political affairs. Christians should be involved in the political process, but there is more to the nation than the state. The call to make disciples of all nations is not to just the individuals or merely the governments but to the whole of cultures.
Third, and a related point, Christian Nationalism has a too exalted view of the state. The government has its domain, or, to borrow Kuyperian language, its sphere. It is the minister of God for keeping the peace, but it is also only a minister of God. Yet, we must strive to avoid what Jacques Ellul called “the political illusion,” that all problems have a political solution found in state action. Or, as Chuck Colson, someone who knew a thing or two about the potential and limitations of government ethics and efficacy, the kingdom of God will never arrive on Air Force One.
When it comes to its faith in government processes, Christian Nationalism ironically echoes many of the presumptions of progressivism. As conservatives rightly chide their left-leaning neighbors when they come up with a program for everything, government is not always the answer. This is true when it comes to the complexities of ordinary society, as the command economies of the 20th century can attest. It is doubly true when it comes to theological questions of life and practice. Government is not a tool for subtle ends. Appealing to the state in matters of doctrine, worship, and many areas of ethics is like grabbing a sledgehammer when what you need is a scalpel.
Fourth, Christian Nationalism posits an unhistorical and abiblical view of nations. Nations matter. Place matters. Heritage matters. These are classic virtues of Anglo-American conservatism, and we can find them rightly praised in the works of Russell Kirk, Roger Scruton, and Winston Churchill. What is more, too many in high positions today wrongly disdain these things. Too many long to be cosmopolitan, a citizen of the world, and too few treasure the metropolis, the mother-city of particularity. At the same time, if we examine the testimony of history, we find that nations are not eternal. They come into existence, endure for a time, then disappear into anonymity. Where is Burgandy? Savoy? Byzantium? England is one of the most well-known and longest-lasting nations in history, yet, as an identifiable nation, it is only a thousand years old. Borders shift, races blend, and languages come to an end. Sad? Yes. Regrettable? Perhaps. Avoidable? No. While they are good, nations are contingent goods, not entities of absolute value.
When we look at the Bible, we read of nations that God called to their times and places, and then just as providentially, allowed to disappear or even took steps to destroy them. Israel, as an ethnic group, has endured through many heartbreaking ups and downs, but it is the exception. Where are Philistia, Edom, and Moab? Where are Babylon, Media, and Assyria? They exist, after a fashion, in remnants of languages and stories, but most of what they were is long gone. There simply is no biblical precedent for the weight carried in Christian Nationalist rhetoric for the centrality of the nation as an absolute. Even if we ignore, for the moment, the tendencies towards ethnonationalism and racial separationism found in Christian Nationalist circles, the priority of the nation as the, not just a, fundamental block of humanity is unsustainable.
As a conclusion, it would be helpful to see what is good in the Christian Nationalist movement. Simply put, the Christian Nationalists are responding to genuine real and felt needs. They are not imagining that Christianity has fallen out of fashion. Where once it could be expected that politicians of all parties would feel compelled to offer at least lip service to the truths of the Bible and to frame their policy proposals in its terms, now we often see Christianity cast in the role of a social villain, the enemy and oppressor that a new law is intended to remove.
If not taken to that extreme, we find an abridged faith, one so weak that its tenets are used by either end of the spectrum to justify whatever it was the politician wanted to do in the first place. This state of affairs may please those believers longing for an end to a false Christendom and cultural Christianity, but this longing is short-sighted. There is a collective effect to the assumption of biblical ideals, where the faith acts as cultural salt and light to preserve what is good and expose what is wrong. As the old dictum that “you’ll miss me when I’m gone” reminds us, the recession of Christian presuppositions in the West is yielding its bitter fruit as life is devalued, liberty is suspect, and the pursuit of happiness is reduced to evermore transitory and purely material pleasures.
The desire to see our nations become more Christian, even their public and political realms, is not only not wrong but it is the means by which Christians have loved their neighbors in tangible ways for millennia. It was the biblical principle that each and every human being is made in the image of God that gradually undermined the ubiquitous practice of slavery in the minds and eventually laws of the land with the abolitionist movement of the 18th and 19th centuries. It was the assumption of Christian ideals and the insistence that there was a law higher than human legislation that provided the intellectual justification to end the evils of legal racial discrimination in the 20th century. It is this same presumption of Church-taught truths that pushes back in the 21st century against the rising utilitarian view of life that would have us think that the unborn, the infirm, and the elderly would be better off dead.
The fundamental problem with Christian Nationalism is that it claims as its unique prerogative the right to say what is and is not the right political position. We all hold that our ideas are best, but we must never live as though this truth resides with us. We merely recognize what is right. When Christians, either from the Left or the Right, begin to claim God’s blessing on a particular political party it does more than serve to turn non-Christians away from the gospel. It presumes to knowledge it lacks. We gain wisdom about this from a true treasure of the Church, C.S. Lewis. In an article in God in the Dock, he compared the formation of Christian political parties to breaking the third commandment. To him this would be on the one hand needlessly divisive, “By the mere act of calling itself the Christian Party it implicitly accuses all Christians who do not join it of apostasy and betrayal,” and dangerously counterproductive, “The demon inherent in every party is at all times ready to disguise himself as the Holy Ghost; the formation of a Christian Party means handing over to him the most efficient make-up we can find.” He condemns the concept in no uncertain terms, “All this comes from pretending that God has spoken when He has not spoken.”
What is good in Christian Nationalism is the common inheritance of all Christianity; it is the innovations that should give us pause. We absolutely should work to see our faith incarnated in our laws, and, were the conversation limited to questions of this sort, questions about how best we might go about achieving this, it is unlikely that Christian Nationalism would be so controversial. The problem with this movement is not that is seeks a more Christian nation or world. Who among the faithful does not want that? It is rather that, with its focus on a legal, state-centric approach and certain debatable and objectionable assumptions, it renders itself both untenable and unwanted.
Dr. Timothy Padgett is a Resident Theologian at The Colson Center for Christian Worldview. His focus is on cultural engagement, living out the Christian worldview, and the way Christians argue for diverse viewpoints while sharing a common biblical foundation―particularly regarding the relationship between church and state, Christ and culture, and war and peace. He also serves as on the Faithful Presence Board of Advisors in Ideological Discipleship.