By David Sanders
By the 1970s, many Christian conservatives had rightly decided that the counterculture revolutions of the previous decade had taken a moral toll on the country. Something, they reasoned, had to be done about it.
What started as an effort to give a voice to the “silent majority” quickly grew into something more — a political force that in time would impress its will on the American political landscape.
Coming of age politically in the late 1980s and early 1990s and having been one who identified himself both as conservative and Christian, I easily made the ideological connection between the two adjectives. I became a self-identified member of the Religious Right.
Enamored with the take-America-back-for-Jesus crowd, I forsook the timeless words of conservatives like Edmund Burke, who asserted the importance of the rule of law, tradition and social order; and Russell Kirk, who affirmed divine revelation and the links between property and freedom. Instead, I opted for what was then the modern-day political philosophy offered by Ralph Reed, Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell.
The downside wasn’t that I became any less conservative, but that I became less Christian. Perhaps it was a personal weakness or a lack of grounding in my faith, but my Christianity during that time became more of an outward expression of political involvement and less about the inner transformation of a life that comes only through a relationship with Christ and self-reflection, study of the Scriptures and prayer.
I could quote you chapter and verse from books claiming that America was set apart and founded as a distinctly Christian nation ordained by God himself for his chosen (American) people. At the time, I gave little credence to the fact that even though many of the nation’s founders were strong men of faith, most of their exhaustive references to the Sovereign Creator were political language born out of the tactical need to appeal to a higher power — one that reigned over the sovereign who sat on Great Britain’s throne.
It is also an unarguable fact that faith, specifically Christianity, played a role in our country’s birth.
Nonetheless, the founders understood that government wasn’t a tool to carry out God’s will. Instead, most realized that fallen and imperfect humans were susceptible to overreaching and vulnerable to greed and corruption. So they declared independence, formed a government and divided its power among those who would govern in order to protect the very freedoms and rights that had been trampled by King George.
Some in the Religious Right have ignored this valuable history lesson. Their activism and political involvement have become primary expressions of their faith, leaving the impression that the nation’s salvation and abundant life for its citizens can be realized through temporal means — by supporting certain policies or backing particular political candidates. Many times their evangelical zeal is not for reaching a world for Christ, but for advancing a political agenda.
Protection of the unborn and the preservation of the family are paramount issues of the day. But when listening to the words of many well-meaning Religious-Right types, it’s hard to distinguish a religious conviction from a policy position or vice versa. They reduce Christianity to an accepted political orthodoxy paraded around during election time and used to whip the faithful into a frenzy. Touted by “leaders” who bargain with candidates and their operatives, promising votes in exchange for access and influence, such a philosophy cheapens the faith and borders on sacrilege.
Conversely, the temptation by some in the Religious Right to simply project personal religious convictions onto all policy matters can have the undesired effect of undermining the very conservatism they claim to advance. In recent years, some conservative Christian leaders have argued “What would Jesus do?” as a justification for lurching leftward on issues like the environment, immigration and foreign trade.
Not everyone has a theology degree. But justifying particular governmental policies by using Christ’s words that were intended for his followers and the church is a hermeneutical error and ignores the Scriptures’ jurisdictional instructions for the family, church and government.
Translation: Applying to the government the belief that, “Whatever you do unto the least of these, my brothers, you do unto me,” can be a very expensive proposition that undercuts personal freedom.
For a short time, the gospel according to the Religious Right colored my indistinguishable religious and political views. But make no mistake about it: I am, by God’s grace, a Christian and a conservative.