Does Christian Nationalism Exist Only in the Progressive Mind?

Jesus Brings Freedom, Even to Prayer Preaching the Gospel Against the Tides

Does Christian Nationalism Exist Only in the Progressive Mind?

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The Baptist World Congress recently convened in Brisbane, Australia during which several of the speakers pointed to Christian Nationalism as a perilous threat.

As one example, Rev. Charlie Dates, pastor of Progressive Baptist Church in Chicago, Illinois said:

“We got a power problem in America. Many of our churches are confusing the power of the gospel with the power of the government. We have moved away from megachurches to MAGAchurches, churches whose steeple spire with both the American flag and the Christian flag as if the two are synonymous, as if the gospel was meant to promote Western civilization. But I want today to tell you that the gospel does not need a political candidate to be effective. No, it’s effective all by itself.”

Tim Costello of World Vision echoed the view:

“We think if we just have our person in the White House or wherever, then we rule. And there’s a whole lot of theologies — called Seven Mountain theologies, New Apostolic Reformation — about ruling. It’s a fundamental mistake. It’s a heresy. We are called to witness. God in the second return of Jesus will actually establish and rule, not us,” he added. “With Christian Nationalism, we have mistaken witness for power.”

Note the irony of the church gathering in Australia only to discuss American Christians.

While I do not disagree that the Seven Mountain movement or the New Apostolic Reformation represent heresies, I do not believe they represent an emergency to either the church or the country. Of course, a scroll through your Twitter feed will acquaint you with all sorts of heretics hustling in the attention economy, but the notion that Christian Nationalism has inundated vast swaths of American Christianity is simply not true. As the sociologist Ryan Burge has pointed out, empirically— according to multiple surveys— sentiments that might be characterized as Christian Nationalism have been in decline since 2007. As a term, Christian Nationalism is still in its embryonic stage with nearly all academic work on the subject dating no earlier than 2020:

Taking Back America for God by Perry and Whitehead (2020)

The Flag and the Cross by Gorski and Perry (2022)

American Idolatry by Whitehead (2023)

Preparing for War by Onishi (2023)

Red State Christians by Denker (2022)

The Everyday Crusade by McDaniel, Nooruddin, and Shortle (2022)

The Full Armor of God by Djupe, Lewis, and Sokhey (2023)

This does not even count the many books I’ve been sent by publishers for the podcast.

Christian Nationalism is a hot topic.

A meme even.

Speaking of the attention economy, I cannot help but notice that self-styled opponents of Christian Nationalism are financially incentivized to issue their breathless warnings about the looming danger— it gets clicks and sells books.

As the theologian Brad East reminds us, years ago, Alvin Plantinga, that mischievous Reformed philosopher, offered a definition of fundamentalist that I wish were etched above every editorial office and seminary pulpit in America.

Plantinga said:

“A fundamentalist is basically a stupid son of a bitch whose theological opinions are considerably to the right of me and my enlightened friends.”

You see what he’s doing there?

It’s not really a definition. It’s a mirror.

If pesto was the quiche of the nineties, then a Christian Nationalist is yesterday’s fundamentalist.

Thanks to the excesses of the once and again president, the label has metastasized into a catch-all epithet to hurl at Christians whose politics we (perhaps rightly) abhor. Whatever it once meant, Christian Nationalism is now functionally a vibe—a signifier not unlike a Salt Life sticker on the back of a truck but, in this case, an accusation, a litmus test, and a scarlet letter slapped on anyone who votes Republican.

This is a problem.

Because if everybody to the right of you is a “Christian nationalist,” as Brad East points out, then nobody is a Christian Nationalist and we’ve thus lost all the resources to discuss actual heresies like the New Apostolic Reformation.

And if nobody is a Christian Nationalist then the term no longer helps us think or talk like Christians.

Ryan Burge argues that the term Christian Nationalism has ballooned so large it has stopped meaning anything. Or rather, it means everything and thus nothing. You don’t have to believe in white supremacy or Dominion theology to get the label pinned on you these days. All it takes is believing, say, that Roe v. Wade was bad law or having reservations about trans athletes in girls’ sports: Christian nationalist.

Burge’s data backs this up. According to the way some researchers define it—like agreeing with the statement “the U.S. should be a Christian nation”—roughly a third of Americans qualify. A third!

A third is not a fringe movement; a third is a family reunion.

Such an all-encompassing term then is not able to distinguish trolls on Twitter from your kid’s Sunday School teacher who’s nostalgic for the Reagan years.

Nostalgia is no more heresy than a modest dose of patriotism.

Make no mistake. There are real wolves in MAGA sheep’s clothing. But to use a catch-all term that functionally or intentionally simply disparages political opponents is not to speak Christian.

Such umbrella terms cover too much.

To use a catch-all term that functionally or intentionally simply disparages political opponents is not to speak Christian.

Instead of confronting real issues—prejudice, cruelty to immigrants, authoritarianism, bad theology—a term like Christian Nationalism lures us into waging war on caricatures.

For Christians, this is worse than lazy.

It is unfaithful.

It is sin not to deal with people in their concreteness.

Just so, Christianly speaking—

If you’re going to call someone a Christian Nationalist, you’d better be ready to explain what exactly you mean, and “he votes differently than I do” doesn’t count.

In fact, if your use of the phrase boils down to “someone whose politics makes me queasy,” then you’re just doing what Plantinga observed. You’re throwing the F-word at some stupid son of a bitch simply because they’re to your right.

Notice too, the label assumes you’re safely at the theological center of the universe.

You’re not.

Look.

You want to be prophetic (none of the prophets wanted the job)?

Speak plainly.

Call sin sin.

Deal with people on an individual basis.

Learn why they see issues the way they do.

Remember, for Christians there is no righteousness or justice (they’re the same word in the Bible) apart from grace.