I was finishing tiling her floor when my friend, Margaret, asked me “What is Christian nationalism?” She had seen the term referenced in this Mantua Creek story of impact from last year:
“When we first started coming, I was questioning if there was a place for me in the evangelical church. I was discouraged by the rise of Christian Nationalism and a narrow and wrong application of a Christian worldview in light of current events. It was a huge encouragement to find like-minded Christians, restoring a sense of hope in me. I’m also very grateful for the relationships we have built.”
In my journey, reading about and working with disillusioned and deconstructing Christians these past ten years, discussions of Christian nationalism have been common. Simple definitions of the term, less so. If, like Margaret, you’re unfamiliar with Christian nationalism or would struggle to define it, you’re in good company. According to a recent Pew study, “A slim majority of U.S. adults (54%) say they have heard or read ‘nothing at all’ about ‘Christian nationalism’ … Among the 45% who have heard anything about Christian nationalism, relatively few say they’ve heard ‘a great deal’ (6%) or ‘quite a bit’ (9%). More Americans say they’ve heard or read ‘some’ (16%) or ‘a little’ (14%) about Christian nationalism.”[1]
Although my response to Margaret that day wasn’t as nuanced as the definition I’ll propose below, it got me thinking about the importance of answering her question well, especially as we approach another election.
Admittedly, there’s a partisan disconnect on the topic—something I’d prefer to gloss over because it’s controversial, but the research reminds us that it’s all too real. For example, the Pew study noted that “Democrats are far more likely than Republicans to have heard about Christian nationalism and to have an unfavorable view of it. Most Republicans say they have never heard of Christian nationalism.”[2] Although my passion for communicating the dangers of Christian nationalism goes beyond politics, two recent experiences have only verified Pew’s research.
First, after finishing Tom Wright and Michael Bird’s provocative, new book Jesus and the Powers, I posted this on Facebook:
“Christian nationalism is impoverished as it seeks a kingdom without a cross. It pursues victory without mercy. It acclaims God’s love of power rather than the power of God’s love.”
N.T. Wright and Michael Bird in Jesus and the Powers
As far as non-grandkid-content-related posts, this one got more likes, loves, and comments than any other in recent memory. And true to Pew’s research, most who weighed in were Democrats or Independents. A few were Republicans or ex-Republicans but all those I recognized– in sync with Democrats– shared a common dislike for Trump. Also, although most responders were Christians, a few would identify as irreligious, agnostic, or atheist.
Second, last week, I had dinner with one of my best friends who is a Republican and a strong Trump supporter. Over the years, we’ve had many respectful, spirited (sometimes difficult!) conversations on these and other topics. Thirty-five years of trust, unconditional love, and acceptance have been wonderful contributors to many listening conversations. When our time together turned to my current writing project on Christian nationalism—even after sharing definitions, he said, “I just don’t see it…” Besides verifying Pew’s research, my friend’s response and honest feedback that night were important reminders to communicate better and avoid partisan triggers as much as possible.
And so, here’s my best attempt to provide a simple, clear, non-partisan definition that’s focused on Christ and Scripture. Regardless of your faith or political perspective, I’d love to have your feedback:
Christian nationalism is a subtle form of idolatry that blends patriotism with Christianity in such a way that Jesus is no longer ones first allegiance but some partisan version of a great America. It begins as a well-intentioned desire to be “salt and light,” along with the belief that America needs to be restored as God’s primary “city set on a hill” or central actor on the world stage. In the process, however, the Beatitudes are sidelined, shoved in a corner, and eventually gutted from the Sermon on the Mount. Meekness is replaced with dominance. Mercy with winning. Peacemaking with power. In the end, the face of Christ is distorted before fresh generations and a watching world.
[1] https://www.pewresearch.org/religion/2024/03/15/christianitys-place-in-politics-and-christian-nationalism
[2] Ibid.