The second-century apologetic “Letter to Diognetus” declares, “What the soul is in the body, Christians are in the world. The soul is dispersed through all the members of the body, and Christians are scattered through all the cities of the world. The soul dwells in the body, yet is not of the body; and Christians dwell in the world, yet are not of the world.”
This letter, written in defense of the growing Christian movement facing marginalization and often persecution in the Roman Empire, was written to present Christianity not as a threat to the well-being of the Roman republic but as a preservative of the social order. Yet it, along with other apologetic works from the era, reflects the way Christians saw their mission, even in an age where they had little to no agency.
It was impossible for a worldview that, counterculturally, saw even the most vulnerable humans as possessing God-given dignity to be anything but a public faith. For most of church history, her pietistic traditions notwithstanding, the church has been an active presence in the world. In fact, some historians such as Tom Holland, Rodney Stark, and Kyle Harper have persuasively argued that many of the values, such as the human rights held dear by citizens of Western democracies, often find their roots in Christianity.
Drawing from Scripture, Christians have sometimes wrongly and often imperfectly taken seriously Jesus’ command to be salt and light in the world (Matt. 5:13–16). How this is executed has been the subject of fulsome debate almost since the dawn of the church age, especially as it relates to politics and government. At times, the church has been the state; and at times, perhaps most often, ordinary Christians have had little or no political agency. Thus, the commands in the New Testament to see human government, however misguided, incompetent, or evil, as a temporary authority delegated by God (Rom. 13; 1 Pet. 2:13) served as both a comfort and a guide.
But how should Christians in the West, particularly in America, think about political and social engagement in an age when we possess perhaps more agency and influence than at any time in human history?
Patriotism as Gratitude
As America celebrates her 250th birthday this year, there is uneasiness among many American Christians. This is understandable, given how often politics and Christianity can get twisted together in weird ways. Many point to believers’ status as strangers and exiles (Heb. 11; 1 Pet. 2). The inference is often that an exile cannot really love the land and the people where he lives. We are citizens, after all, of the kingdom of God and must resist any identification with our earthly and temporal nations.
It is true that Christians are exiles. We do look for that “city whose builder and maker is God” (Heb. 11:10). Yet when we look at the instructions God gave to exiles in Babylon through the prophet Jeremiah, it’s hard to conclude that a strictly pietist, disengaged stance is the biblical response. Deceived by false prophets into thinking their sojourn would only last a few years, the people of God were tempted to huddle together and wait out their escape. Jeremiah came with something different:
Build houses and live in them. Plant gardens and eat their produce. Find wives for yourselves, and have sons and daughters. Find wives for your sons and give your daughters to men in marriage so that they may bear sons and daughters. Multiply there; do not decrease. Pursue the well-being of the city I have deported you to. Pray to the Lord on its behalf, for when it thrives, you will thrive. (Jer. 29:5–7)
Consider that the Jewish exiles in Babylon possessed extraordinarily little agency. Unlike American Christians, they couldn’t vote, speak their mind, run for office, and attempt to pass legislation. Yet they were tasked, in part, with pursuing the “well-being” or “shalom” of their city. How much more should American exiles—citizens of God’s kingdom and citizens of this earthly station—pursue the shalom of the places where God has, in his sovereignty, chosen for them to dwell (Acts 17:26)? It also raises the question, can we seek the flourishing of a nation we loathe or about which we are ambivalent? I do not think we can.
Patriotism, like any affection, can become ultimate. It can become idolatrous. Yet loathing is not the corrective for idolatry. In his book The Four Loves, penned after the Second World War, C. S. Lewis wrote of the importance of not seeing our allegiances as binary choices; rather, that faithful Christians understand how to rightly order their affections, expressing affection for our homeland and yet holding that love in such a way that it is always subordinate to our love for God. Lewis drew from fourth-century church father Augustine, who wrote that “living a just and holy life requires one to be capable of an objective and impartial evaluation of things: to love things, that is to say, in the right order, so that you do not love what is not to be loved, or fail to love what is to be loved, or have a greater love for what should be loved less, or an equal love for things that should be loved less or more, or a lesser or greater love for things that should be loved equally.”
This is essentially what Peter seems to be saying in 1 Peter 2:7: “Honor everyone. Love the brothers and sisters. Fear God. Honor the emperor.”
Christians who love God rightly are prepared to love their country appropriately. Why? Because knowing God’s kingdom is supreme and eternal gives a dose of realism to our earthly allegiances. It prevents us from investing too much hope in temporal things, loving them well. It reminds us that, as good as our nation might be, it cannot ever be our ultimate source of joy. G. K. Chesterton said this:
The fundamental spiritual advantage of patriotism and such sentiments is this: that by means of it all things are loved adequately, because all things are loved individually. … Patriotism begins the praise of the world at the nearest thing, instead of beginning it at the most distant, and thus it insures what is, perhaps, the most essential of all earthly considerations, that nothing upon earth shall go without its due appreciation.
Patriotism does not, of course, demand absolute allegiance to a particular party or politician or administration. At times, love of country and allegiance to Christ will require us to oppose policies and oppose leaders. One might argue that it was both Bonhoeffer's love of God and his love of Germany that brought him back home to help fight Nazism. The same could be said about William Wilberforce’s opposition of the slave trade, or even the modern pro-life movement which seeks the full freedom for the unborn that is promised to all Americans in the Declaration of Independence.
What patriotism is, then, is gratitude. It is thankfulness for the people, the nation, the resources, and the ideals that shape the country. This is especially important for America, which, while far from perfect, enjoys a level of prosperity and freedom unprecedented in human history. Every good and perfect gift, we are told by James, comes from above (James 1:17).
Politics as Stewardship
If love of country is a properly placed affection under our worship of God, then politics becomes a stewardship toward the end of seeking the flourishing of this place God has given us. Christians, then, can both resist an existential politics of worship and embrace a politics of stewardship. Christians who live under oppression and who possess little agency, can read passages like Romans 13 and 1 Peter 2 only as a mandate to obey where possible and to resist only where the state’s demands forced them to disobey (Acts 5:29). But what of believers in a country like America, a government “of the people, by the people, and for the people?” Seeking the shalom of the city would imply, at the very least, being an engaged citizen. Can we fully love our neighbors as ourselves if we neglect the opportunity to influence the policies that affect our neighbors’ flourishing?
Yet, restrained by our love of God, our politics should have a distinctly Christian flavor. Peter, who was no stranger to conflict and willingly went to jail for preaching the gospel (Acts 12), nevertheless urges believers toward both boldness and civility. In 1 Peter 3:15, he urges both, to “have an answer for every person for the hope that lies within you” but to do this with “gentleness and kindness.” Love of country and love of our neighbors demands we not be silent about unrighteousness and injustice. Yet our Christian faith requires us to see even in our political opponents the image of God.
A disordered politics can malform the soul and turn believers against one another over petty differences. This is why the most engaged Christians must prioritize the community and accountability of their local churches.
Seeing our citizenship as a stewardship also gives us a dose of realism. When Christians engage, we can do much good. Consider that faithful believers have spearheaded the greatest social movements in American history. Still, in a fallen world, we will always have limitations. Our influence will only go so far. We will lose elections and policy fights. Sin, in all of its manifestations, will still affect our communities. We will still be exiles awaiting our future home.
This reality should temper our expectations. Today, dissatisfied with democracy, we may long for a more robustly Christian state. But the American Founders, surveying the wreckage of a state church throughout history and influenced by those who believed in a free church, resisted giving the state the power to coerce the conscience. Our system is far from perfect and, as Christianity recedes, freedom often turns to license. Yet it is not the state’s job to separate sheep from goats or the wheat from the tares (Matt. 13:24–30).
While the Christian roots of the American experience cannot be denied, genuine faith cannot be manufactured by politics and policy. Rather, it must come from a move of the Spirit among the people of God. We should work and pray for revival, commit to robust evangelism, and plant churches. But realism helps us understand that not until Jesus returns will we be completely satisfied with the system of government.
Piety as Armor
So, as we rightly celebrate America’s 250th birthday, we should commit ourselves to being “the soul of the body in the life of the world” in this moment. This mission will look different for every Christian based on individual callings, yet for all of us, it means loving God first, loving our nation well, and seeking her flourishing where we have opportunity.
The world needs a faithful, prophetic, engaged, and unified church.
