One Observation, and Eight Questions, Regarding That Kerfuffle

Christian Nationalism

Like many of you, I have had the experience of viewing a lively Twitter debate over Christian Nationalism (and the many attendant and related issues) over the previous days. What has been encouraging in all this is that most of these voices would be considered brothers in Christ with whom we share much in common, so on that count this has mostly been an in-house debate among conservative Christians. Brotherly debate is healthy, and sharpening doctrinal distinctions is formative.

What has been less encouraging is the plethora of straw-men, non-sequiturs, and other analytical departures that have been thrown about quite liberally, not to mention the various foolish and unhinged voices from the fringes that have only distracted from the primary discussion being advanced. Yet despite these obstacles, the conversation has moved forward significantly, with a thorough definitional statement being drawn up, and the publication day of Mere Christendom drawing even closer. Clarification seems to be increasing, and for that we rejoice.

Interacting with the Opposition

That being said, I have one observation, along with a few related questions. This statement–and–question piece is not meant to constitute a scholarly contribution to the field, but moreso as a humble contribution to the ongoing conversation. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, after all, and stacking up opinions in an echo chamber without interacting with the opposition only risks unduly egging that pudding. So with an eye toward not further egging any attendant pudding, we may observe:

Eschatology matters. This is not so much a shameless ministry plug as an affirmation of our driving conviction—our eschatology frames our worldview, shapes our cosmology, and molds our convictions regarding engagement in this world. Eschatology deeply matters, and eschatology is a driving force beneath much of this ongoing conversation. The issues in this debate are quite diverse: there is Christian Nationalism (a term fraught with undue political baggage at this point), theonomy and theocracy, issues of law and gospel, concerns of separation of church and state, questions of religious pluralism and public secularism, two-kingdom theology, sphere sovereignty, and natural law and special revelation—just to name a few of the more prevalent topics.

So where are we going?

Yet underlying many of these issues is a teleological question of eschatology: where are we going, and how will we get there? This is not simply a matter of agreeing that Christ will win in the end, if by “end” we are referring solely to the eternal state. To affirm such a general truth would be universal to the level of common orthodoxy. Neither is this an inconsequential debate on millennial particulars, straining at the eschatological gnats as it were. Rather, this is a question of the general tone and tenor of biblical eschatology:

Does the church succeed in this world in the disciple-making task it has been assigned? While recognizing the persistence of suffering and evil, does the church experience success and growth in this world, or does it experience defeat and marginalization? Do the nations and their rulers kiss the Son and bow the knee? Will relatively few in this world be saved by the preaching of the gospel, or will an overall majority turn to the Lord? These questions are quite unavoidable when we approach difficulties such as we are facing in the current debate.

Something bad has happened

Neither is this an inconsequential question, even in the currently-dire straits of Western culture (in fact, I would argue that this question is quite pressing precisely because the dire situation that we face). I have elsewhere compared our situation to a shipwreck, and for lack of descriptive novelty I will stick with that illustration here. Many Christians seem to find themselves floating on the detritus of a boat that has ripped apart at sea, in a manner of speaking.

Something bad has happened, and it seems to be a continuing danger to all involved. Many who had previously enjoyed the deck of the ship now find themselves clinging to the floating boards that once constituted its decks. Now, we may recognize that the ship was never a perfect vessel—it had a great many flaws, there were leaks in the stern, and its rudder frequently took it off course. Yet all in all, it was a good ship that did an incredible amount of good for a great many people, and many a family was honored to call it their home. We may even say that God had blessed the ship.

We will need a ship

So here is our situation: we are floating on the waves of the ocean while clinging to that once-proud ship’s wreckage, and we are all wondering what is to come next. We cannot simply stay floating in the ocean (in fact, such neutrality here is quite impossible), so we are quite compelled to look to the future and wonder how to construct a new ship. We will need a ship, and we want that ship to be built correctly. Yet to accomplish this, we would do well to look to the ship that has wrecked in order to ascertain what made that ship good  in the first place (and, consequently, what caused it to come under such destruction). There will inevitably be a new ship, and it is incumbent on us to think quite clearly about what that ship should look like.

Expanding, growing, comprehensive victory

This is where the discussion of eschatology comes in. Some will maintain that building ships is the business of the world, and we would do better to simply tread water until someone else builds such a ship that we can then quietly stowaway in for a time. Others contend that it is the very business of ships to wreck and sink (that’s what ships do, after all), and that the ship sinking is actually quite good for all those involved, as it reveals who was truly alive on the ship in the first place.

Still others maintain that the ship was always a temporary affair, and its sinking is only a sign that the end of the voyage is in sight and we need not distract ourselves with the sea in the first place. We should certainly be glad to engage these discussions with exegetical prudence. Yet it is also quite possible that there is a Shipbuilder who owns every ship, who directs every captain, and indeed who holds the very waves in his hand—and that this nautical story is one of the Shipbuilder’s expanding, growing, comprehensive victory over the sea and every one of its waves.

Eight Questions

With that said, there are eight brief remaining questions that could be of some help in advancing this discussion. These questions are offered in no particular order, yet they seem to be areas where there is frequent confusion or obfuscation by those who are involved.

• First, are Christians called to disciple the nations? Most of us are familiar with the Great Commission (Matt 28:18-20), and most of us are familiar with the primary imperative verb (mathēteusate, “make disciples”) and it object (panta ta ethnē, “all [the] nations”). One may contend that the nations are being discipled by individuals saved out from those nations, but if it is generally accepted that individual conversions are obviously necessary, is there still a manner in which the nations themselves are discipled?
• Second, are Christians to advocate Christian values to be legislated? Morality will certainly and inevitably be legislated by any governing body, which is certainly another “not whether but which” scenario. Yet should Christians support explicitly Christian influence in governance, or only individually support laws based on their Christian morality (while keeping that latter part out of the conversation)? Are Christians to be vocal about God’s law in the public square, while stopping short of that explicitly impacting governance? If this question seems convoluted, I wonder whether we can say that the extant law against murder in our country is good and right precisely because it is God’s law expressed in legislative form, or whether it is good because enough Christians in the voting booth agreed it was good (while only as a secular virtue of legal code that also accords with Christian values).
• Third, if Christians recognize Christ as Lord over all of life, how does this inform our conception of civil government? Two-Kingdom theology is difficult to quickly wield in this regard, as one may surely find quite a bit of nuance from Augustine to Luther, for example. Yet if we take the broadly Kuyperian stance that there are divinely-instituted spheres of authority in this world (which are distinct, yet occasionally overlap), over which Christ holds all authority, is the civil government called to recognize Christ as Lord?
• Fourth, if we rightly recognize the depravity of fallen man, what is the role of natural law in civil governance? There is a relationship between natural law and civil governance, yet there is also special revelation given to fallen humanity. If we live in a culture that is passing legislation that actively calls evil good and good evil, what role does biblical revelation play in addressing such laws and governance? If, for example, the government were to pronounce abortion to be good while pronouncing that caring for unsuccessfully aborted babies is evil, is it right for Christian legislators to pass explicitly Christian laws based on biblical revelation?
• Fifth, do all the nations of this world owe their allegiance to the King of heaven? Regardless of whether we may expect them to in our own doubts (based on our perception), does God call all kings, rulers, and nations to kiss the Son (Ps 2)? Does God judge nations that are in rebellion against Him? Do nations owe God their allegience?
• Sixth, can the adjective “Christian” be applied to anything other than an individual regenerate believer? When applied to “nation,” the lines seem to have been drawn with sufficiently increasing levels of clarity. However, there is still much talk of “Christian families” even if the concept of “nations” is denied. This seems that it could be a foundationally clarifying question—is there such a thing as a Christian family?
• Seventh, are Christians called to proclaim the Word of God as the authoritative and binding rule for the just legislation and governance of a people? Or further, are the politics of the nation directly under the rule of Christ? And as for the Christian in all this, are Christians called to teach the nations (and their governance) all that Christ has commanded (Matt 28:19)?
• Eighth, what is the role of the local church in matters of civil governance? We may readily acknowledge that there are separate spheres of authority for the church and the state, and no one should be looking to obfuscate or confuse those lines. Yet if the church is to speak what God has spoken, and both church and state fall under the overarching authority of Christ, what then for the church? May churches call governmental officials to repentance? May churches decry laws and statutes that violate God’s law-word? Do these questions apply differently for the gathered church as opposed to the individual believer?