I've been thinking about recently is how often our modern assumptions about power are the exact opposite of the assumptions of the earliest Christians.
If you read early Christian writings, you will see that for the first few centuries Christians had almost no political influence, no cultural dominance, no armies, and often no legal protections. Still, they were inordinately confident that they would eventually win.
Why? Not because they expected to conquer Rome with a sword (they were forbidden); not because they expected God to destroy their enemies (Jesus wasn't about that); not because they thought they would seize the levers of power (the Sanhedrin had showed the danger in that).
They believed they would win because they thought love was ultimately more powerful than violence, truth more powerful than propaganda, and self-sacrifice more powerful than coercion.
That sounds naïve to our modern ears. Yet somehow this tiny, marginalized movement exploded across the Roman Empire and then the world. It has outlasted emperors, persecutions, and entire political systems for 2,000 years.
How is this possible? Well, if you read people like Ignatius of Antioch, Justin Martyr, or Athanasius of Alexandria, you will hear them often talk as though the cross isn't merely how Jesus saves people. It's how reality itself works.
The power of cruciform love is the deepest truth of the universe. It's the fulcrum which moves the cosmos itself.
If they're right, then the question isn't "How do I defeat those who claim to be my enemies?" The question is, "What kind of person am I becoming while I engage them? Will I look like the Empire or the Kingdom? Will I look like Caesar or Jesus?"
After all, the means by which we engage enemies determines who we are in the end. If we are going to defeat those who seek to oppose Jesus and his ways, it needs to be with the same means Jesus used: the power of a cruciform, self-giving, love that points toward the Jesus in whose footsteps we follow.
For a while, the church followed Jesus - imperfectly, to be sure, but consistently. Unfortunately, they lost its way when the siren call of Empire broke down their resistance.
In their book From Revelation For The Rest Of Us: A Prophetic Call To Follow Jesus As A Dissident Disciple, Scott McNight and Cody Matchett offer a sobering explanation.
“It took three centuries for Babylon—the way of Rome—to take over the church, and in some important ways it destroyed the church...The fallout from this has been so immense we need to slow down a bit to examine it more closely.
When Constantine became emperor of Rome and part of the church, the empire began to wind the church into a tight thread, binding it closely to itself. Church and empire, empire and church, closely knit to the point that the difference was often unnoticeable.This interwinding today is often called 'Constantinianism,' but more accurately it should be called 'Christendom'—that is, the process whereby Christianity became an institutional political power that sought power in Europe, North Africa, and (western) Asia.
Constantine used his government powers to establish churches, demolish pagan temples, restore exiled Christians to their homes and jobs, 'unify' the theology of the church, and banish or silence threatening voices.Constantine unquestionably operated at times with a charitable tolerance, but the dirty deed had been done: the state became the power of the church.
States do what states do, and they do this through war and violence. An expert on Roman history, Ramsay Macmullen, states it this way, 'The empire had never had on the throne a man given to such bloodthirsty violence as Constantine.' Though he was a supposedly Christian emperor, he was known for violence and was a man with a sword in his fist, not the word of God...
With Theodosius I the empire completes its 'Christianization' and becomes Christendom. A more forceful way of saying this is that when the church ties itself to political powers, as it did from Constantine to Theodosius I, it becomes Babylon.
Christendom was the most tragic mistake in the history of the church. Aligning with Babylon turned the church into an agent of empire; put differently, the church surrendered its calling to the powers of empire.
Eusebius of Caesarea (c. 260–340) knew Constantine personally, saw some of the events of this time firsthand, and later wrote up a fawning account called The Life of Constantine, giving him titles like 'God- beloved' and 'Thrice blessed…'
Perhaps the most widely known (and tragic) story about Constantine is his claim to have a vision of the cross before a famous battle, the one that cemented his position as the sole ruler of the empire. The vision was written in the sky: 'By this [the cross] conquer' following which he had a vision from Christ himself. And here is the tragedy of tragedies: the cross became the symbol for his military might, his palace, and his churches.
Constantine became 'their redeemer, saviour and benefactor' even though in truth he was a brutal warmongering emperor whose goal was dominance and whose method was power through intimidation and violence… the man with a cross for a banner was a bloodthirsty man who defaced the way of the Lamb as he ruled in the way of the dragon.
Violence, empire, and power would forever mark the churches that bound themselves to the state.The relationship of churches to the state can often be a first indicator or warning sign of Babylon’s presence inside the church.”
There is much to learn from this, lest we are condemned to repeat a history that moved the church so tragically far from the way of Jesus. When we reject the power of cruciform love as the greatest and best means of bringing healing, hope, restoration, peace, justice, mercy, and love, we have abandoned the way of Jesus and embraced the faux hope of Constantine, the violent pax Romana brought about by the sword that is not peace, and will never be able to put down the sword.
We don't talk about Christendom much anymore; "Christian Nationalism" sounds much more civilized.
Yet the temptations, the compromise, and the allure of power will still mark the churches that bind themselves to the state.
May God save His church from this path, so that we may be ambassadors of the enduring hope of cruciform love, and thus be spared the fate that awaits those who trust in empires.
