Why I'm Not a Christian Nationalist

A Response to James Baird's King of Kings

I am 42, a child of the 1990s, a Baptist pastor, and I’ve worked around (but not in) politics for nearly twenty years. Demographically and professionally, I am someone for whom Christian Nationalism should have strong appeal. I recognize the pull of such things. There are many examples of moral and political issues in which the Christian perspective is not only rejected but condemned as evil. In that milieu, hearing those in the Christian Nationalist camp say loudly that the emperor has no clothes can bring with it a rush of feeling akin to, “Finally! Someone is saying something!”

But it is in these circumstances, when the emotional tides are rising, that we should be particularly careful about where we’re headed as Christians. I work at an organization where classically liberal and constitutional values are incredibly important. We still hold to freedom of speech, the rule of law, free markets, freedom of conscience, and freedom of association. In that circle, I hear regularly that it is increasingly difficult to find young talent because so many young people are yearning for direct, clear, and explicitly Christian arguments for policy positions. Christian Nationalists are not afraid to make these arguments. So Christians who believe that the traditional American values of liberty are both better—practically and biblically—need to start making those arguments. And we have to be ready to demonstrate why Christian Nationalism fails, both biblically and practically. It’s the second part that this piece intends to address.

Or in other words, why am I not a Christian Nationalist?

Theological Arguments for Christian Nationalism

There are a lot of Christian Nationalist thinkers around today. Stephen Wolfe wrote The Case for Christian Nationalism, Doug Wilson has prominently spoken in favor of it, and William Wolfe makes these arguments almost daily on Twitter. But to be honest, these three often fall into language and polemical styles (putting it kindly) that immediately reveal serious problems. The most sophisticated theological argument for Christian Nationalist principles that I have read recently comes from King of Kings by James Baird. Baird is not as acerbic, he avoids any hint of ethno-nationalism, and he holds that the church is the means by which the gospel goes forth. Yet the principles Baird argues for create a theological underpinning for explicitly Christian Nationalist approaches to policy and politics.

For those reasons, King of Kings is the argument I want to deal with. I imagine Baird himself might object to the label of Christian Nationalist, so I want to establish why I think the label fits him.

Baird lays out a logical syllogism for his view:

1. Government must promote the public good.

2. As the only true religion, Christianity is part of the public good.

3. Therefore, government must promote Christianity as the only true religion.

I think Baird would say that his work represents Magisterial Protestantism, not Christian Nationalism. Hardline Christian Nationalists are programmatic and want to establish a modern confessional state. Baird’s argument, rather, is that Christian political actors (which at some level includes every Christian with a vote) must act in accordance with the public good—promoting Christianity as true.

So why do I group Baird with Christian Nationalists? While Baird distances himself from explicit Christian-Nationalist programs, his logic and prescriptions share their essential political-theological premise: that Christians have a moral duty to seek and wield political power for the advancement of Christianity in public life.

“In essence, power is the ability to put our will into action. Or, stated a different way, power is the capacity to secure different kinds of goods. God has granted to all of us various kinds of powers… More power means a higher capacity to secure more goods. Therefore, if you have the qualifications, it is good to seek more political power. Of course, too much of a good thing is a bad thing. No one likes a tyrant. Civil officials must stay within the limits that the people have set upon them. Boundaries, checks, and balances are good things. With that said, if a Christian is good at governing, then he should aim to become more powerful. If he has the chance to expand his ability to get more good things to more people, he should do it. That’s a loving thing to do. Moreover, it is good for Christians to unite together, consolidate their powers, and expand their capacity to secure more public goods. That’s loving, too.” —James Baird, King of Kings (pp. 88–90, Kindle edition).

“As Christians, we especially desire more of one particular public good: true religion. The more true religion, the more people get saved, the more people bear the fruit of the Spirit, and the more the body of Christ grows. The more true religion, the more renaissances of art. The more true religion, the more revolutions of science. The more true religion, the better our morals as a society. Christianity benefits everybody. It’s extraordinarily good for the public. It is God’s gift to the world. If we want it for ourselves, then we should use our power to acquire it for others, too.2 In politics, that means we should use our power to elect people who will promote true religion. If He were in our shoes, that’s what Jesus would do”. —James Baird, King of Kings (p. 90, Kindle edition).

Baird’s claim is that Christians have a moral imperative to use their political power to promote Christianity and that they should seek more political power. He is not specific about what policies or mechanisms we should use to do that, but the principle is there. He tempers this call with warnings against tyranny and abuse of power, yet the thrust remains: political authority should be exercised toward advancing Christianity as the highest public good.

Logical and Theological Objections

Baird’s syllogism is the crux of his argument. We have to disprove it to grapple with his case.

1. Government must promote the public good.

2. As the only true religion, Christianity is part of the public good.

3. Therefore, government must promote Christianity as the only true religion.

The premise that the government must promote the public good is unobjectionable, but only if “public good” is limited to goods that are legitimate for civil government. Spiritual “goods” are not the government’s domain. Baird combines civil goods (what’s needed for human flourishing) and spiritual goods (salvation and worship). It’s worth noting that the concept of the public good (or common good) is itself highly disputed. Baird defines it as “that which leads to human flourishing and happiness among a society of people as they live life together in community.” This is fine insofar as it goes—it echoes Augustine and even John Finnis—but it still fails to distinguish which goods belong to the state to provide and which belong to the church.

Baird mistakenly collapses the public/spiritual goods category. He’s included Christianity as a “public good” and then claims the government must promote the public good. This makes the syllogism circular.

Bottom line: does “true religion” belong to civil authority, or to voluntary response to grace and participation in church life? Baird confuses the two. Government must promote public goods only insofar as those goods fall within its proper jurisdiction. Baird expands that category to include spiritual goods that government cannot rightly administer.

As a Christian, the first part of this premise is table stakes, we are in 100 percent agreement. However, Christianity is not part of the public good in the same way that justice, safety, and public health are. In some sense, government-provided public goods are part of common grace. Common grace benefits everyone, the just and unjust alike. Spiritual benefit, by contrast, is available only through revelation. As one friend put it, Christianity isn’t a road to be built. The government may recognize the value of Christianity, but it has no ability to produce spiritual fruit. I’m also concerned about assuming pre-conversion spiritual obedience from government magistrates to promote Christianity. Not every government representative will be a Christian this side of eternity, so demanding that such people promote Christianity by order of Christians with more power, Baird subtly encourages something akin to works-righteousness.

The argument’s validity depends on an unstated premise that all genuine goods fall within the state’s jurisdiction. The state’s office should be limited to preserving temporal order, not producing spiritual truth. Both Baptist and Presbyterian traditions stress that using government coercion to enforce religion corrupts both the church and the state. In fact, if the state identifies itself as a Christian nation, it introduces identity errors that harm the church. Jonathan Leeman puts it well:

When you ask the state to undertake the role of the church by rendering judgment on right doctrine, you subtly undermine new-covenant, Holy Spirit–birthed Christianity. After all, Jesus gave churches the authority to hand out the “I’m with Jesus” nametags and the “This is right doctrine” signs. That’s what we do when we “gather in his name” and “baptize in his name” with the keys of the kingdom in hand (Matt. 16:19; 18:18–20; 28:19). When the state establishes a church and names itself “Christian,” it participates in that name-tag-pinning and sign-hanging work. It has usurped the keys and acted as a church. It has named people as Christians who are not Christians. This is anti-baptism, anti-Lord’s Supper.–Jonathan Leeman, “Christian Nationalism Misrepresents Jesus, So We Should Reject It”

There are problems with each of Baird’s premises, but more importantly, his argument cuts against the emphasis of the New Testament. Consider the following:

• Romans 13: The government is God’s minister for justice, an agent of wrath upon wrongdoer, not the promotion of Biblical truth.

• John 18:36: “Jesus answered, ‘My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting, that I might not be delivered over to the Jews. But my kingdom is not from the world.’” Christ does not endorse violent means to achieve his kingdom (and the government bears the sword); rather, Christ’s concern is to bring his people into the kingdom of heaven.

• 2 Corinthians 10:4 tells us that the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh. The church’s means of pursuing its mission are not of this world. Paul’s authority is grounded not in his Roman citizenship or position but in Christ.

• Acts 5:29: “[27] And when they had brought them, they set them before the council. And the high priest questioned them, [28] saying, ‘We strictly charged you not to teach in this name, yet here you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching, and you intend to bring this man’s blood upon us.’ [29] But Peter and the apostles answered, ‘We must obey God rather than men.’” Here we see the apostles refusing to act against their conscience. In bringing the gospel to the lost, Christians in the New Testament always aim to persuade, not to compel by force. This is biblical reasoning: there is no chapter and verse explicitly protecting the conscience of unbelievers, but Scripture clearly places a high value on freedom of conscience. We should vigorously defend conscience freedom for everyone.

• Romans 14 establishes that Christians ought not bind the conscience in disputable matters. This provides another biblical example that mirrors the principle of freedom of conscience. One might reply: how does the state’s promotion of Christianity as the only true religion violate conscience? Simple, when the people with guns declare that there is one true religion, immediate pressure falls on those who believe otherwise. Pressure to avoid hassle, or, more dangerously, pressure to appear outwardly compliant while remaining inwardly unbelieving. And if social or political power accrues to being a “cultural Christian,” more cultural Christians will inevitably appear.

The previous scriptural arguments demonstrate values contrary to Baird’s position, but Baird also overreads the Old Testament into modernity. He cites Cyrus and the king of Nineveh as examples of pagan rulers who declared the truth of God, and he argues that such examples should be instructive for political leaders today. Those examples, however, are unique miracles of God—moments of direct divine intervention.

Baird also points to the kings of Israel, who were held responsible for the spiritual instruction of God’s people. But Israel was unique: it was a political nation-state established by God. Now, the people of God are the church, not a nation-state.

Moreover, the failures of Israel’s kings show us exactly why we should be wary of government endorsement of Christianity. Many of those kings claimed to honor Yahweh, yet their hearts were far from him. They introduced syncretism, false worship, and sin. The same dangers exist for political Christians today.

Dangers and Practical Concerns

When has government-promoted Christianity ever worked well long-term? It’s a simple question. From Geneva to the German States to the American colonies, all these places started well, but the faith faded. Then all that’s left is bureaucratic shells that masquerade as anything Christian. Think of the hollowed out state churches across Western Europe. Think of the dangers of cultural Christianity giving countless Americans false assurances of salvation. Think of syncretism between state power and Christianity. Government integration with Christianity regularly produces these things. The tools of the state don’t fit the church. You can’t use an allen wrench to cut lumber.

Or what about efficiency? Do we think the powers that brought us the DMV will be effective at promoting Christianity? What will the unintended consequences be? It is not hard to imagine the alienation of people who resent being browbeat into submission to Christianity. The legacy of the moral majority, in many ways, is the counter push in the 1990s that brought the culture wars, in which the Christian position largely lost.

There is also the danger of mission creep. The church cannot become consumed with temporal issues. Paul warns Timothy not to get ensnared in civilian pursuits. This is advice to a young pastor and evangelist, so we can’t understand this to mean all Christians should avoid political vocations. However, we can and should take the warning that the mission of the church is concerned with the Kingdom of Heaven, not any earthly kingdom.

Conclusion

So why am I not a Christian nationalist? Because I worry about what using the state to achieve Christian ends will bring, because I worry about the mission of the church becoming confused, and because I worry about giving false assurances of faith. The mission of the church is spiritual in nature and persuasive in its evangelism. The state is coercive in nature and civil in its work.

The dangers listed above lead me to contend that classically liberal values—those found in the tradition of John Locke and the U.S. Constitution—remain better approaches to politics in pluralist societies. Such ideas are consistent with many biblical principles and help shield Christians from direct government interference in how we worship God. This discussion warrants further investigation but is beyond the scope of this piece.

I do not disagree with everything Baird says; indeed, there are many things I can affirm. I also want to make clear that Christians in government should seek to implement policies grounded in their Christian principles for the good of those under their care. If Baird had something akin to ‘individual Christians should seek to influence the state for the good of all’ I would not push back. My objections to King of Kings arise when we move beyond influencing the state to forcing the state to identify as Christian. When we blur the proper categories between natural and supernatural, between political authority and spiritual authority, we introduce all sorts of problems. Perhaps the greatest of these is nominalism. By declaring an entire nation Christian when it is not, in fact, comprised entirely of Christians, we confuse proper Christian identity. It is the church’s responsibility to identify who is truly walking in Christ, who is faithfully adhering to Christian doctrine, and who bears the name of Jesus.

Jonathan Leeman, again, makes this point powerfully.

Consider how much God cares about who is identified with his name. It led him to give a whole new covenant. Israel was identified with God’s name (Deut. 28:10), but their nominalism led to excommunication from the land. God then promised to return a new Israel “for the sake of my holy name” (Ezek. 36:22–28). Yet this new Israel, this new nation, turns out to be Jesus and everyone covenantally united to him…The language of Christ-ian nationalism or a Christ-ian nation, then, unaccountably slaps Jesus’s name onto a modern nation-state. It jumps from Israel straight to America without first passing through Jesus and the church.–Jonathan Leeman, “Christian Nationalism Misrepresents Jesus, So We Should Reject It”

Finally, I’ll end with Scripture.

“Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: [5] Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. [6] Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. [7] But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”–Jeremiah 29:4–7

Christian Nationalists reference this verse all the time, claiming that by promoting state-supported Christianity we are seeking the welfare of the city, state, or nation in which we live. Baird cites the same verse and connects it to Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego as examples of political action by believers.

I think it’s worth noting some differences in posture. In Jeremiah 29, the Israelites are exiles who seek the welfare of their city from a position of absolute weakness. Far too often, I see Christian Nationalists attempt to dispense welfare from a position of power. Baird’s examples of Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego are further instances of faithful people who influence politics, but always from a posture of service, not power.

And of course, this is how Christ approaches his own earthly mission. Though he was equal with God, Christ humbled himself and did not count equality with God as something to be grasped. Instead, he took on the form of a servant and laid down his life to rescue his people. The paradox is that Christ possessed all power yet did not conquer—he came to serve.

Combining Christian truth with political power is misguided. Daniel doesn’t pursue power; rather, it is thrust upon him by the providence of God. Baird, by contrast, flatly states that Christians should pursue political power. Christ could at any time have called legions of angels to destroy his enemies, but that was not his way. His way is the cross.