Why Christian Nationalism Appeals
It’s all understandable; the problem is, it’s also utopian.
For those of you not ensconced in the world of Protestant Twitter, there’s been a recent surge of interest in the philosophy and politics of Christian Nationalism. It’s fueled countless blog posts and podcasts; if you’re on the political right, you’ve probably heard the term paired with a heavy degree of skepticism. What is Christian Nationalism? And how should we respond to those who buy into it?
Scholar Paul Miller offers a workable definition of Christian nationalism: “the belief that the American nation is defined by Christianity, and that the government should take active steps to keep it that way.” For many Christian nationalist thinkers, the ideal nation-state is formed by explicit governmental deference to Christian doctrine and values in the public square. Such deference varies wildly in theoretical application, from the exclusion of non-Christian voices from society to the complete overhauling of the First Amendment in favor of explicitly Christian speech policies.
In case it’s not incredibly obvious, I’m not a Christian nationalist. Attaching the explicit furtherance of Christianity to American political structures is a completely unattainable notion, to say nothing of governmental encroachment on the church’s missionary commission and the political division and abuse Christian nationalism would create.
Looking at modernity, however, it’s not difficult to understand why people become Christian nationalists—the idea of a Christian-preferential society is enticing, particularly in contrast to post-Christian modernity. Given modern-day America’s opposition to traditional Christianity and religious liberty more broadly, the promises of pluralism are quickly ringing empty for many Christians. It is becoming increasingly clear that when coming from anti-Christian culture warriors, embracing pluralism is code for “comply with my ideology or the hammer’s coming out.”
Many are similarly tired of being told Christianity must be palatable and nice when Christianity itself has always been fundamentally unpalatable to secular ears—while nobly intentioned, such language of niceness often seems to condemn the faithful. People are similarly tired of evangelical pundits “punching right and coddling left,” constantly criticizing Christian conservatives but seeming to spare the rod for Christian liberals. Christian Nationalism does more than condemn—it offers alluring promises of acceptance for Christians tired of often-sanctimonious criticism from their own side.
Lastly, some people calling for Christian nationalism are simply doing so out of a desire for cultural power. It’s an understandable mental pathway—Christians who truly see modernity as a Colosseum can very easily shift from a martyr mindset to a desire to be the empire.
From these characterizations, you might think I sympathize with Christians who ascribe to Christian nationalism. I do. I understand the desire to seize cultural power in a bid to stop the excesses of anti-Christian political actors and create a new power structure promising a respite from such abuses. It’s all understandable; the problem is, it’s also utopian. Power corrupts, and it corrupts Christians in power too. Nothing in the philosophy of Christian Nationalism offers any more effective power checks than the systems we currently have. In the end, it’s a philosophy of collectivism and government control—even in the most pious of hands, the tyrannical endgame is the same.
Christian Nationalism, by all appearances, is evangelism with governmental assistance. Cultural/governmental power, however, is not the set goal of evangelism: we don’t evangelize to gain cultural power but to win souls to the Word above all earthly powers. If cultural power comes now, it’s a byproduct at best and a dangerous distraction at worst. Furthermore, both right and left have earned their punches; nobody’s earned the right to be coddled. True discipleship involves both hard truth and loving support. Yet those swayed by the empty promises of Christian nationalism deserve more than punches and derision; they’re our brothers and sisters in Christ and we must understand them if we’re hoping to persuade them towards a better way.
Decades of cultural power have left American Christianity soft and unsuited for the robust evangelism necessary in the modern day. It is in this world of conflict that the Church must stand its ground and disciple America, crippled by decadence, polarization, and crises of faith, as if there was no tomorrow. Subsequently, it is time for Christians to live out our faith as if Caesar was trying to crush us—because he is. Whether in the subterfuge of right-wing leaders who use and then discard the support of religious people or the ravages of left-wing leaders intent on redefining and minimizing religious liberty, Caesar is everywhere.
The missing key to reviving Christianity is not alignment with America’s political framework. The missing key is our willingness to live our faith boldly in this post-Christian nation. It’s not enough to react strongly to post-liberal modernity. The call is coming from inside the house—we are the revival.