Apolitical Evangelicalism: Christian Nationalism’s Subtle Collaborator

If we’re looking for the theological and ecclesial source of the Capitol Insurrection last year, we must look further than Christian Nationalism. We need to look at Apolitical Evangelicalism embodied in the Church Growth Movement of the 80’s and 90’s. 


Many of us were connected in some way to the Church Growth Movement that was most clearly identified with mega churches like Willow Creek and Saddleback. If you weren’t directly apart of it, you’ve certainly heard of it and experienced some level of its influence on the Church in the United States. 


While white Christian nationalism (embodied exactly one year ago in the Capitol insurrection) often receives the primary critique of failed politics, Apolitical Evangelicalism is its bed fellow. And, it contributed to normalizing a neutered gospel absent from redeeming the broken systems and structures that break many of our neighbors. 


As many Evangelicals have taught and advocated, the DNA of the church is intended to be a public witness of God’s kingdom in addition to God’s saving work in our personal lives. Organizations like Evangelicals for Social Action, Sojourners, Red Letter Christians, World Relief and many others have modeled this holistic faith. That said, the Church Growth Movement profoundly altered this holistic DNA of the Church for the sake of building a “product” to win individuals souls. It created a “Apolitical Evangelicalism” that is the subtle culprit for so much of our current crisis of Christian identity and politics that we find ourselves in today. 


There are three primary characteristics of Apolitical Evangelicalism that must be named and examined to understand the roots and implications of its contribution to the rise of Trumpism and the Capitol insurrection. 


Personal Transaction
The “gospel” of Apolitical Evangelicalism prioritizes personal salvation over and above societal salvation. As a reaction both to the “liberal” social justice theology built by Walter Rauschenbusch in the early parts of the 20th century and their distaste for an abrasively partisan (right-wing) theology of the 80’s manifest most clearly in Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson, Apolitical Evangelicals discarded public theology all together. They didn’t want politics to get in the way of church growth that led to more people accepting Jesus as their personal savior. For them, a personal conversion was the embodiment of the gospel, which relegated societal conversion to the potential overflow of the former. 


Speaking in an interview about the success of the mega-church movement in 2005, Rick Warren said, “The second myth is that mega-churches are politically active. In fact, you don’t get to be a mega-church if you get involved in other issues.” In short, to be political is to compromise the consumable product of church growth which leads to personal conversion. The problem with this is twofold; without any kind of public theology, moderate Christians will later default to extremist right-wing politics (most clearly in the 2016 Presidential election) because Republicanism had culturally become synonymous with evangelicalism. Second, to isolate politics from the gospel is an insufficient and privileged position. Politics can simply be defined as the ordering of society. Those on the underside of power are directly impacted by politics in so much as society remains ordered in a way that keeps them at the bottom. For Christians to be apolitical is to fail to take seriously Jesus’ commandment to love our neighbor as ourself. 
As the late Bishop Desmond Tutu said, “I don’t preach a social gospel; I preach the gospel, period. The gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ is concerned for the whole person. When people were hungry, Jesus didn’t say, ‘Now is that political or social?’ He said, ‘I feed you.’ Because the good news to a hungry person is bread.”


Homogenous Church Growth Strategy
In his book, The Myth of Colorblind Christians, Jesse Curtis makes a compelling case for the direct impact of the church growth movement on the evangelical absence from active social and political engagement; especially as it pertains to race. Donald McGavran was a missionary in India who discovered that converting people indigenous to the land was more effective when they could retain their culture and community. While in an international setting, his learnings could be a governor to colonialists missions paradigms and imperial Christianity. But, when he came back to the United States in the mid-1900’s and applied his “Homogenous Unit Principle” here, it planted seeds for a more subtle segregation in the wake of the civil rights movement. In 1974, Peter Wagner said, “Show me a growing church, and I’ll show you a homogeneous…church.” This idea that people like to worship with people who are similar to them made sense internationally, but when that same argument is applied to the majority, white culture, it created a missiological excuse for building churches that invited people to prioritize their own comfort over racial, relational and ecclesial integration. 


Further, it allowed issues of systemic injustice to remain out of focus for white evangelicals who had created a insular bubble that didn’t expose them to so many of the systemic sins harming people of color in our country. One of the primary ways to undo systemic injustice is through active engagement in policy change. Or, put another way, to be political. Instead, evangelical attention was often more focused on trying to attract the “Saddleback Sam” archetype of middle class, white men who could fill pews and offering plates than leverage their influence for the liberation of their sisters and brothers on the underside of power. Obviously, this was not true of all evangelicals or mega-churches, but it was a temptation that that demographic was especially vulnerable to. 


Suburban White Flight
Finally, in the wake of WWII and the Civil Right movement, cities became more diverse and white people began to flood to the suburbs. It was among these communities that the Church Growth Movement took flight. As a result, some of the largest, most influential churches in the United States were made of up congregants who were largely removed from the systemic injustice in the United States. Daniel Hill describes privilege as “the ability to walk away.” Simply put, these communities had the privilege to walk away from the political engagement because they lived comfortable lives. Maintaining the status quo was good news, so a convenient faith that didn’t take on the polarizing issues was the ideal fit. The leaders of these churches were smart enough to steer away from taking on any kind of significant policy issues for the sake of keeping the peace and ensuring any newcomers don’t feel threatened.

 
In many ways, these characteristics bring up questions of theology (what is the Good News?), sociology (what is the impact of homogenous community on societal engagement?) and political ethics (how are Christians to engage in systems change as part of our gospel mandate?). While the questions require much more attention, what is clear is that this form of evangelicalism led to an apolitical posture toward systems change and left its congregants with very few theological or practical tools for engaging policy change with kingdom values. 


In the absence of a political ethic grounded in the teachings of Jesus, a vision of the kingdom of God and the plight of those on the margins, many of these moderate, well meaning Christians were swept into the narrative of victimization propagated by Trump leading to the Capitol Insurrection on January 6th, 2021. 


We can choose to ignore the history or we can choose to change it by building a better way forward. A way that is relentlessly proximate to the pain of those on the underside and unbending in our commitment to leverage our influence for the flourishing of all. One year later, it is this better way that I pray we turn to as followers of Jesus and citizens of the United States.


	

A Second Baptism of Rain and Tears

I’ve been getting up each morning before the kiddos wake up to finally spend extended time writing and reflecting on my Camino de Santiago pilgrimage last year. It’s been wonderful. Here is a story of one of the most sacred moments I experienced; a second baptism of rain and tears.
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As the fork in the road approached, I could see that the Spiritual Path was going to take me straight up a mountain saturated in dark clouds. It would be a long, wet and lonely road, but I knew it was the road I had to take. I needed to move toward the darkness and see what it had to teach me.

I had read that the journey to the top of this mountain would be difficult. Why would I leave flat trails, sunshine and friendship for the rigorous darkness? I’m not sure I could have put it into words other than the fact that I subconsciously knew it was a much more significant decision than where to turn on a map. Something was turning over in me and I had come too far to walk away now.

I was raised in an evangelical Christian home and attended church each Sunday. As such, I “accepted Jesus into my heart” at a very young age and was baptized in the following years. While I don’t doubt the sincerity and intention, I can honestly say that that “conversion” is not the one I point to when someone asks me when I started following Jesus. At the time, baptism was something I knew I should do and that most of my friends had done. It was good and sacred, but didn’t hold the holy significance of descending below the waters to fully experience the death of ego for the sake of being rebirthed as a fully loved participant in God’s restorative revolution in the world. It was a sacred ritual, but I simply hadn’t stumbled through the Camino of life long enough to fully understand what I needed saving from and who I was being saved into.

As I walked up the mountain, the rain began to come down harder and harder. For days I had worked to avoid becoming fully soaked on the trail, but it was quickly becoming evident that I wasn’t going to be able to control that.

Control. I love control and in my day-to-day life it’s one of the primary barriers I’ve erected to fully embrace the liberating love of baptism.

I gave up. I didn’t give up walking, but I gave up controlling. After missing the yellow arrows that mark the way of the Camino TWICE in a matter of an hour – and getting redirected back to the path by thoughtful locals waving out their car windows – it was clear I was not in control and I’d be wise to acknowledge it as such.

Once back on the path with the rain coming down as hard as ever, I looked straight up into the sky with my arms spread wide and watched the drops hit my face. I began to weep.

I kept walking with eyes to the sky and a cocktail of tears, rain and sweat mixing on my face and running down my body. It was as though I could actually feel everything. My senses and my soul were intertwined in one sacred dance reminding me of the gift of life and the liberative properties of holy water found on the path of God.

The baptism of my youth was sacred, but it wasn’t enough. The faith constructs of my youth were important, but they were insufficient. The way of control served a purpose, but had been an obstacle to healing for far too long.

I was being baptized with holy water.

Rain and Tears.

A new way. A new faith. From control to liberation. Wounds being healed. A Jesus worth my life. A God with eyes of compassion rather than judgment. A path full of mystery and delight rather than dogma and obligation.

This was the faith I was being saved into…and in the sacred company of the steady trees and holy wind, I was baptized.

Life out of death. The old is gone and the new has come.

Thanks be to God.

On American Exceptionalism…

flag and crossThis past Sunday, Vice President Pence was invited to speak at First Baptist Church in Dallas for the “Celebrate Freedom Rally” at their Sunday morning services. Pastor Robert Jeffress called the event, “Our annual patriotic service” in which the church celebrates “God’s unique blessings on our country.” 

While some may celebrate this display as faithful Christian practice, followers of Jesus must be careful not to confuse patriotism (pride in country) with nationalism (our country is better than every other country). And nationalism with idolatry (placing love of country before love of God and neighbor).  

Dr. John Wisely argues that American Exceptionalism “serves to deify the nation…paving the way toward heterodoxy at best, heresy and idolatry at worst.

Dr. Michael Gorman describes exceptionalism as “the idea that the United States has a unique place in God’s plan.” 

What transpired this past Sunday is nothing short of a bold display of American Exceptionalism. Which, to be clear, is idolatry. 

As Christians, our primary allegiance isn’t to any nation-state, it’s to the kingdom of God. A kingdom marked by sacrificial love and suffering sacrifice. The economy of this kingdom runs in direct contrast to the economy of any nation-state or Empire. When these lines get blurred, bad stuff happens in the name of a “god” that looks nothing like Jesus. Without doing a historical overview, this has been the case for most of the past 1700 years since Jesus life, death and resurrection 2000 years ago. 

Our current administration is not the first to fall victim to propagating this idolatrous relationship between church and state as nearly every President who has come before (both Republican and Democrat) has confiscated the mission of God as a convenient endorsement of their vision for our country.  

In his 1865 “Annual Message to Congress,” President Abraham Lincoln described America as the “last best hope of earth.

Friends, the United States (by the way, to say “America” in this context is an offense to our North American neighbors who are not in the United States) CAN BE exceptional when we leverage our influence to embody equity, equality and justice. But that is NOT the same as saying the United States is divinely elected as “exceptional” such that we can no longer critique it’s behavior in light of the values of the kingdom of God. That is nothing short of idolatry and is unChristian in every way.

There is a better way. A way that liberates us from the shackles of partisan politics and convenient power grabs. A way that doesn’t require us to pledge our allegiance to any other kingdom than God’s and any other king than Jesus. 

We don’t need to stick our heads in the sand and disengage from the systems we have a responsibly to renovate. Nor do we have to pander to the powerbrokers as if they have the last word. 

We can be Christians without falling victim to the myth of American Exceptionalism. We aren’t the first nation-state to wrestle with a compromised allegiance and we won’t be the last. But this is our moment to decide to which kingdom we pledge our allegiance.

As for me, my allegiance is to the Lamb that was slain so that all can flourish. Not to the Elephant or Donkey seeking to conquer in the name of a “god” that looks nothing like Jesus. #conflictedallegiance 

A Liturgy of Dissonance in the Times of COVID-19

As a global family physically distant – yet interdependent – Lord, hear our prayer…

We feel the growing dissonance between practicing the social responsibility of distance and the kingdom (kin-dom) value of proximity.

“Stay away to keep us all safe!”

“Please come close, we have no ‘home’ to go back to!”

Which is it? Is social distancing a practice of the privileged or the only antidote to a pandemic? Can we be distant and generous? Is that enough?

There is no easy answer.

God, in our tension and dissonance, hear our prayer.

The walls seem to be closing in on us. The kids, they appear to have taken on God’s character of omnipresence. Pure delight and exhausting overwhelm. New rhythms, prayers and play. Creativity and care. New life!!

Short tempers. Lonely holidays. No end in sight. Can we sustain?

God, in our gratitude and exhaustion, hear our prayer.

As we celebrate necessary governmental financial aid in the coming weeks, we acknowledge the lack of equity. Many who don’t need it will receive it. Many who desperately need it will not.

Things are not as they should be.

For those of us who can, may we have the courage to be generous rather than follow our fears manifesting in a mentality of scarcity and practice of hoarding.

God, in our abundance and our need, hear our prayer.

As the sky returns to blue, the birds sing songs of new life and the sea glistens with hope, we listen to Creation speak…groan.

Healing.

Breath.

Shalom.

Does the path back to a rightly ordered world require a pandemic to remind us who we are and how we are to live? Have mercy on us as we stumble down our path of ignorance and arrogance.

God, in the healing and the failing, hear our prayer.

We feel in our brains and our bodies the anxiety of the unknown. Who will be next and how close will they be to our familial circle? Seamless recovery or tragic end? And the future of our jobs? Our organizations? Our churches? Our neighbors?

And, stillness like never before. Social expectations gone. Nothing to prove. Silence. Connection. Deep breaths. Long mornings. Laughter.

Peace.

God, in our anxiety and our peace, hear our prayer.

Amen.

What I’ll Tell Our Kids About War

Fam time

As I write this, violence (and rhetoric) is quickly escalating between the United States and Iran (and those caught in their midst). My heart is deeply grieved at what this means for the world, our neighbors and our children. The impact of war is far reaching and I still hold out hope that a strategy of deescalation will be employed and effective.

In the meantime, my kids go back to school on Monday morning and later that evening we’ll host a prayer vigil in our neighborhood with other people of faith pleading with God to heal our broken world. No doubt, my kids will hear about the escalating violence at school and they’ll stand with us in prayers for peace that evening.

Which means it’s time we talk with them about war.

Here’s what I’ll tell them…

I’ll tell them that both of my grandfathers fought in a war (WWII) and while we admire their courage, we lament the trauma and the pain they carried with them for the rest of their lives.

I’ll tell them I remember being their age and watching CNN at a friends house as the US bombs dropped on Iraq during the Gulf War. We celebrated the destruction of cities and precious human beings as if we were watching an action movie with a bucket of popcorn. We talked about it being “God’s plan” that the US was called to carry out.

I’ll tell them that war is not something to celebrate and that it is very ugly. That God is not guiding our missiles to destroy our “enemies,” but instead is weeping with the children (just like them) who lost mommy’s and daddy’s because of our bombs. We don’t cheer on war just because it is on the other side of the world, we cry that it’s a reality in our world and do anything we can to stop it before it starts.

I’ll tell them that a few months after watching these bombs drop on CNN I’ll never forget waving goodbye to my dad (their grandfather) after he was activated for active duty in that war. Grampy (as they call him) was very courageous, but so was Grammy as she cared for us kids when Grampy was gone with an uncertain future. I’ll tell them I cried all the time missing my dad just like kids are crying right now missing their mommy’s and daddy’s who are being sent to the Middle East. We will pray for comfort, peace and safety for those families.

I’ll tell them that Iranian people aren’t our enemies and we will never use language that makes them sound any less than people loved by God…just like us. We’ll pray for the comfort, peace and safety for the kids and families in Iran who are going to bed in fear that they may be hurt by war.

I’ll tell them that just because a few people with a lot of power start wars, it doesn’t make them right. And that it’s usually the people without the power (or money) who end up being hurt. Both in the US and countries like Iran.

I’ll tell them that there are people all over the world who make bad choices (including from our own country) that hurt people and international conflicts between countries are very complex and it’s hard to always know exactly what is true and how to make the right decisions. But that no matter how complex things are for countries and governments, we personally don’t get even; we get creative in love.

I’ll tell them that it’s ok to feel scared, but we don’t have to let our fear control us. We live in love and hope that God is restoring ALL THINGS and that we get to be part of making it real in our world. From their school playgrounds to the other side of the world.

I’ll tell them that we follow Jesus and he chose the path of peace when faced with violence. He didn’t run from conflict…he ran toward it! But instead of using the weapons of war he used tools to heal. And, for Jesus, it cost him everything. It might cost us something too. Because peacemakers aren’t wimps. They are heroes who can’t hide behind the weapons of war or mean words. They are people like our friends Daoud and Milad and Manar and Alejandra and Yolanda and Chris and Dorothy Day and Martin Luther King Jr. and (on and on and on)…Jesus. He even said, “Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called children of God.”

I’ll tell them that they are loved. Again and again and again. And it is because of that love that our family will also love. No matter what and no matter who. Jesus told us to love and pray for our enemies. Not to kill them.

I’ll tell them it’s actually all way more complex than this because we haven’t yet excavated the nuances of theodicy, ontology, just war and pacifism.

Just kidding.

And then I’ll give them a kiss and go get Slurpees.