I Didn't Move; You Did (#19): The Shift Toward Political Idolatry

During this series, I've looked at the public moral witness of evangelical leaders over the last fifty years (start reading them here). 

Again and again, I found the same themes: care for the poor, concern for racial justice, compassion for immigrants, peacemaking, honesty, the honoring of the imago dei in everyone, the need for personal integrity, the rejection of nationalism, the necessity of impartial justice, and the conviction that the Church must never become captive to any political ideology.

This is a loaded list of issues to address by the political parties of the American empire. Historically – perhaps because of the complexity – evangelical declarations of faith and practice publicly refused to equate the gospel with any political party. All parties and politicians were held to a shared standard; followers of Jesus were expected to follow paths that look like Jesus, whatever direction it would take them. As cited in the earlier posts that excerpted from historical conservative evangelical declarations of faith and practice:

“We must resist the temptation to make the nation and its institutions objects of near-religious loyalty.”

“Our equal duty (is) never to be completely equated with any party, partisan ideology, economic system, or nationality.”

“The other error, made by both the religious left and the religious right in recent decades, is to politicize faith, using faith to express essentially political points that have lost touch with biblical truth. That way faith loses its independence, the church becomes “the regime at prayer,” Christians become “useful idiots” for one political party or another, and the Christian faith becomes an ideology in its purest form. Christian beliefs are used as weapons for political interests...”

“The politicization of faith is never a sign of strength but of weakness. The saying is wise: ‘The first thing to say about politics is that politics is not the first thing.” The Evangelical soul is not for sale. It has already been bought at an infinite price...”

Yet in spite of such clear direction, there is an increasing litmus test for being a Christian: support of one party, with almost unwavering loyalty. You must be all in or all out, and there can be no questioning or challenging of the leadership. Perhaps when leaders insist that “I alone can save you,” (as stated at Trump’s acceptance speech at the 2016 Republican National Convention on July 21, 2016), well, the stakes are pretty high.

This has resulted in a demand for unflinching loyalty to Trump that has moved beyond the moral flexibility I have been recording in this series and into borderline idolatry. Christians in the halls of power who are meant to be the prophetic heirs of Nathan, speaking truth and righteousness to power, have abandoned their calling.

“We must resist the temptation to make the nation and its institutions objects of near-religious loyalty.”

“Our equal duty (is) never to be completely equated with any party, partisan ideology, economic system, or nationality.”

The near-total alignment with a party or person is a siren call that for many is hard to resist - and difficult to maintain. This position is going to need over-the-top justification, since no one deserves that kind of loyalty. And there is a comparison at the very top for evangelicals – Jesus, to give the ultimate stamp of approval to comparisons to David, Cyrus, and Jehu. [1]

So, let's look at some of the ways admiration has moved toward idolatry.

" I Didn't Move; You Did" (Part 15A) Christian Nationalism And The "Sacrament" of War

In the first part of this series, I spent a good deal of time looking backward. I revisited the statements, declarations, and public witness of the evangelical movement that shaped me. Again and again, I found leaders insisting that Christians must care for the poor, pursue justice, tell the truth, defend the vulnerable, practice humility, and maintain enough distance from political power to speak prophetically to it. (My previous post looked at the kind of global responsibility the evangelical movement once took seriously.)

Then I turned to the present. I have been asking a simple question: What happened?

Why have so many voices that once challenged presidents now defend them? Why have leaders who once insisted that character matters decided it suddenly doesn't? Why has the movement become so comfortable with nationalism, partisan identity, and political power?

I don't think there is only one answer. But I do think one answer explains much of the shift. It is the growing embrace of Christian nationalism, a danger we were constantly warned about for the past 50 years. Here are some excerpts from the declarations I posted.

We must resist the temptation to make the nation and its institutions objects of near-religious loyalty.

God has ordained the two co-existing institutions of church and state as distinct and independent of each other with each having its own areas of responsibility (Rom. 13:1-7; Mark 12:13-17; Eph. 4:15-16, 5:23-32).

All too often we have abandoned our Lord’s concern for those in the shadows, the twilight, and the deep darkness of the world, and become cheerleaders for those in power and the naïve sycophants of the powerful and the rich…

…The other error, made by both the religious left and the religious right in recent decades, is to politicize faith, using faith to express essentially political points that have lost touch with biblical truth. That way faith loses its independence, the church becomes “the regime at prayer,” Christians become “useful idiots” for one political party or another, and the Christian faith becomes an ideology in its purest form. Christian beliefs are used as weapons for political interests...

Christians from both sides of the political spectrum, left as well as right, have made the mistake of politicizing faith…Whichever side it comes from, a politicized faith is faithless, foolish, and disastrous for the church – and disastrous first and foremost for Christian reasons rather than constitutional reasons...

Called to an allegiance higher than party, ideology, and nationality, we Evangelicals see it our duty to engage with politics, but our equal duty never to be completely equated with any party, partisan ideology, economic system, or nationality. In our scales, spiritual, moral, and social power are as important as political power, what is right outweighs what is popular, just as principle outweighs party, truth matters more than team-playing, and conscience more than power and survival...

The politicization of faith is never a sign of strength but of weakness. The saying is wise: “The first thing to say about politics is that politics is not the first thing.” The Evangelical soul is not for sale. It has already been bought at an infinite price...

We repent of our failures to condemn and restrain violence by remaining silent, by promoting nationalism, or by unjustly supporting conflicts through deficient theological justification.

We lament that some Christians have looked to the state rather than the gospel as the key means for bringing about God’s intentions for the world. This takes an especially regrettable form when wed to nationalism—here defined as the belief that every state should have a single, national culture and no other—or ethnonationalism—which is the belief that every ethnic group should have its own state. This is a great evil in our world.

We lament that many Christians have been sadly complicit in it, as well as in the claims of ethnic and racial supremacy it fosters. Against this, we assert that no modern state is able to claim or will ever be able to claim to be the special agent of God’s saving rule.

I read Francis Schaeffer back in the 80s and 90s. I taught the How Should We Then Live video class to high schoolers. Though Schaeffer had some unfortunate influences (#rushdoony), he had some good insights that were spreading throughout the evangelical world.

“There is no New Testament basis for a linking of church and state until Christ, the King returns. The whole "Constantine mentality" from the fourth century up to our day was a mistake. Constantine, as the Roman Emperor, in 313 ended the persecution of Christians. Unfortunately, the support he gave to the church led by 381 to the enforcing of Christianity, by Theodosius I, as the official state religion. 

Making Christianity the official state religion opened the way for confusion up till our own day. There have been times of very good government when this interrelationship of church and state has been present. But through the centuries it has caused great confusion between loyalty to the state and loyalty to Christ, between patriotism and being a Christian.

We must not confuse the Kingdom of God with our country. To say it another way: "We should not wrap our Christianity in our national flag.” ― Francis A. Schaeffer, A Christian Manifesto

The late Billy Graham, Christianity Today’s founder, gave us a loud warning in an article he wrote for Parade Magazine in 1981, when he said: 

“I don’t want to see religious bigotry in any form. It would disturb me if there was a wedding between the religious fundamentalists and the political right. The hard right has no interest in religion except to manipulate it.”[1]

Historically, evangelicals advocated for a prophetic distance from power, especially wealth and political authority, from which they could freely speak truth and righteousness to those in power. They had a stated suspicion of nationalism and “near-religious loyalty” to the state.[2]

Today, in practice and teaching, it endorses proximity to power[3] and defense of leaders regardless of character, often openly embraces Christian nationalism, and seeks to merge faith with political identity.

I Didn't Move; You Did (Part 11): The Shifting View On Violence And War

In the first post of this series, I noted that my struggle with modern conservative evangelicalism is not with its theological orthodoxy. I still affirm doctrines that historically defined evangelical Christianity. The deeper question is whether our orthopraxy—the way we live out those beliefs—still resembles the commitments we once publicly embraced. 

I reviewed a number of evangelical statements, declarations, and manifestos spanning more than fifty years in order to look at the orthopraxy to which we were called: Chicago Declaration of Evangelical Social Concern (1973); Lausanne Covenant (1974); The Manila Manifesto (1989); The Amsterdam Declaration (2000); The Health Of Our Nation (2004); An Evangelical Manifesto (2008); The Capetown Commitment (2010); For the Health Of The Nation 2014; and the Seoul Statement (2024).

In the previous post, I addressed the public shift - revealed through votes and voices (or lack of them) - in responding to racism and discrimination.  In this post, we are looking at the conservative evangelical shift in regards to violence and war.

If there is one thing that distinguished the Kingdom Jesus announced from every kingdom of this world, it was this: Jesus refused to establish God's reign through coercion or violence.

He rebuked Peter for taking up the sword in His defense. He told Pilate that His kingdom was "not from this world," because if it were, His servants would fight. He taught His followers to love their enemies, pray for those who persecuted them, bless those who cursed them, and overcome evil with good.

Christians have disagreed about many things throughout history, including when governments may legitimately wage war. But historically, evangelicals consistently warned against glorifying violence, confusing nationalism with the Kingdom of God (I will address this in an upcoming post), or treating military power as God's preferred instrument for accomplishing His purposes.

That concern appears repeatedly in the major evangelical statements of the last fifty years.

• "we must challenge our misplaced trust of the nation in economic and military might – a proud trust that promotes a national pathology of war and violence which victimizes our neighbors at home and abroad."
• "Among the evils we deplore are destructive violence, including institutionalized violence, political corruption, all forms of exploitation of people and of the earth..."
• "We urge governments to pursue thoroughly nonviolent paths to peace before resorting to military force. We believe that if governments are going to use military force, they must use it in the service of peace and not merely in their national interest. Military force must be guided by the classical just-war principles, which are designed to restrain violence by establishing the right conditions for and right conduct in fighting a war. In an age of nuclear and biological terrorism, such principles are more important than ever. We urge followers of Jesus to engage in practical peacemaking locally, nationally, and internationally. As followers of Jesus, we should, in our civic capacity, work to reduce conflict by promoting international understanding and engaging in non-violent conflict resolution."
• "We acknowledge with grief and shame the complicity of Christians in some of the most destructive contexts of ethnic violence and oppression, and the lamentable silence of large parts of the Church when such conflicts take place. Such contexts include the history and legacy of racism and black slavery; the holocaust against Jews; apartheid; ‘ethnic cleansing’; inter-Christian sectarian violence; decimation of indigenous populations; inter-religious, political and ethnic violence; Palestinian suffering; caste oppression; and tribal genocide…"
• "We urge governments to pursue domestic, foreign and security policies that encourage justice and peace by preventing conflict. We urge governments to thoroughly pursue nonviolent paths to peace. If governments use military force, they should deploy it justly in the service of sustainable peace and not to serve narrow national interests. Governments should at a minimum restrain violence by applying classical just war principles, which are designed to clarify the limited conditions under which military action is justifiable, and establish standards of right conduct in fighting a war...As such, we urge the Body of Christ to engage in sober, practical peacemaking, nonviolent conflict resolution and citizen diplomacy at local, national and international levels."
• "We repent of our failures to condemn and restrain violence by remaining silent, by promoting nationalism, or by unjustly supporting conflicts through deficient theological justification. We condemn those who use their influence in world affairs to promote avoidable conflicts and wars, merely to further their economic and political interests. We are saddened by the immense suffering their actions have caused. We believe that they will be held accountable before God on the day of judgement. We call all Christians to serve the vulnerable in contexts of war by pooling our resources and supporting the relief efforts of churches and humanitarian organizations that are situated near conflict zones..."

What is it looking like now in terms of what evangelicals are supporting, both with their votes and their words (or lack of them)? And I'm not just talking about full-blown war. I'm talking about creating a culture that is comfortable with violence and aggression as a means justified by an end.

Trump's second campaign contained some promising rhetoric against war. [1] But while he was saying this, he was already consistently inciting his followers to violence. This should not be surprising considering what happened during his first term. And in his second term, the promises of no new wars dissolved in the face of reality.

"I Didn't Move; You Did" (Part 1): An Ode To A Lost Evangelicalism

I spent 45 years as a proud conservative evangelical. It was my home. It wasn’t perfect, but nowhere else was either. Evangelicalism helped shape my love for Scripture, my devotion to Jesus, my commitment to conversion, prayer, mission, and discipleship. I owe much to people within it.

In the circles I grew up in, I was also taught the importance of engaging with the community and the world in a way that brought healing and hope.

We sent missionaries near and far dedicated to telling others about the good news of the Gospel, often accompanied by acts of service to show that we cared about the whole person, not just their souls.

We promoted foster care, adoption, and crisis pregnancy centers as a proactive way to build a culture of life.

Evangelical disaster relief organizations did incredible work in meeting practical needs in areas devastated by natural disasters.
Personally, my experience in the local churches in my life - Sunday School, youth group, services, revival meetings, potlucks, small groups, community outreach - gave me many wonderful memories and formed me in ways that I still cherish. [1]

The evangelical neighbor who quietly loves Jesus, serves the poor, cares for refugees, tells the truth, honors his marriage vows, and treats political opponents with dignity is not the source of my disillusionment. In many ways, they are evidence that the best of evangelicalism still shows sparks of life.

And yet, here I am, feeling the need to no longer be associated with evangelicalism because of the terrible toll the Trumpification of conservative evangelicalism has taken on its witness, reputation, and impact.

I’m not a grumpy curmudgeon, pummeled by evangelicalism, who now just wants an excuse to throw shade. No, conservative evangelicalism was the Christian ecosystem into which I was born, and for most of my life, it felt like home.

I helped build it. I voted party line most of my life. I participated in the ecosystem. This is not a story about “those people.” It is a story about me and “my people.”

Speaking of “my people,” this series is not primarily aimed at the sincere evangelical Christian who voted for Donald Trump while wrestling with competing concerns and difficult choices. I know many such people. Some are dear friends. Some remain among the most faithful followers of Jesus I know.

Many Christians concluded that one set of policies represented a lesser evil than another. Whether I agree with that conclusion is not the point. Reasonable people can disagree about political strategy, candidates, and public policy.

My concern is different.