This is the ninth in a BNG series of articles on Christianity and democracy that will lead toward the July 4 celebration of America’s 250th birthday. The series has been curated by Carol McEntyre, senior minister at First Baptist Church of Greenville, S.C.
As a Latino pastor born and raised in Puerto Rico, I did not first encounter Christian nationalism in the United States, although this is where I learned its name. I knew it in my home country and in the churches that shaped my faith.
It came to us, in part, through U.S. missionary influence, and it became embedded in how many of us learned to understand and practice Christianity. Only now do I see its full, unapologetic expression and the damage it does to both Christianity and democracy.
Juan Garcia (CBF photo)
As I understand it, Christian nationalism is the belief that a nation should be defined by Christianity, with the state privileging or enforcing Christian identity, symbols and moral norms. As Michael Bird notes, it often assumes that Christians “must be in charge of the nation.”
From this perspective, faith becomes intertwined with political power and national culture — and both are distorted.
At first glance, this idea can appear appealing to many believers. In seasons of cultural change or perceived moral decline, the desire to “restore” a Christian society can feel like a defense of faith and values. But merging our Christian faith with national identity ultimately harms both the gospel witness and democratic life while revealing deep theological and historical contradictions
Christian nationalism often assumes the survival of Christianity depends on political control. Yet Scripture tells us a different story.
Jesus declared, “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36). Jesus does not need the backing of the state to thrive, but the power of his resurrection. His message, his ways, his truth and his life carry a compelling power of their own —one that has endured and sustained the Christian faith throughout the ages.
The early Christian movement — and the kingdom of God it represents — grew not through political dominance but through faithful witness, sacrificial love and moral credibility. The church was a deeply compelling community where, “day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved,” as Acts 2:47 reports, precisely because it stood in such contrast to the social and political order of its time — marked by hope and life.
“When Christianity relies on coercion rather than persuasion, it distorts the very nature of the gospel.”
When Christianity relies on coercion rather than persuasion, it distorts the very nature of the gospel. Faith cannot be forced; it must be embraced willingly and lived out of conviction. Scripture consistently portrays faith as a voluntary response to God’s grace. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus invites people to follow him. He does not force them. Even when many turned away, he let them go.
Paul reinforces it. Faith comes through hearing the message of Christ, not through political pressure. If faith must be freely chosen, then any political system that attempts to impose religious belief undermines the authenticity and the impact of faith itself. The kingdom of God advances through transformation of the heart, not through political enforcement.
History provides sobering examples of the consequences of entangling Christianity with state power. After Constantine’s conversion in the fourth century, Christianity gained imperial favor and influence. While this brought certain benefits, such as protection from persecution, it also introduced a new reality: The church became entangled with imperial power. Within a generation, the faith that had transformed the empire through witness and martyrdom became one that condemned heretics to death — revealing how easily faith is distorted when enforced by the state.
The pattern repeated in the 20th century. In Franco’s Spain, the church’s alliance with fascism led many, once democracy came, to abandon it — not because they rejected Jesus, but because they could not separate Christ from the dictator. Today, Spain stands among the most secularized countries in the world.
The point is not withdrawal from public life, but this: The church loses credibility when it seeks to rule rather than to serve.
“The church loses credibility when it seeks to rule rather than to serve.”
In contrast to Christian nationalism, Christians should serve our democracy by bringing Christian moral principles — human dignity, solidarity and care for the vulnerable — into public life without coercion or privileging a single religious identity. We are to affirm religious freedom while letting our faith shape our public witness.
As Christians, we cannot separate our faith from public life. That would be impossible. However, our faith calls us to persuade, witness and propose rather than coerce, and to remain distinct from the state so the church can speak prophetically when the state errs. Where Christian nationalism sacralizes the nation and seeks dominance, Christians are to work within democratic systems, seeking to serve the common good through moral influence and participation.
Now, it is important to understand that our faith stands above both nationalism and democracy. Our supreme allegiance is to Christ and his way, marked by humility. This humility does not withdraw from public life but leads us to enter it as followers of the crucified Lord, marked by self-awareness, openness to correction and a commitment to the good of all.
Instead of ignoring or demonizing the other, humility makes room for genuine listening. It seeks justice rather than privilege, engages pluralism with confidence in the gospel and listens rather than caricatures. This is a powerful witness to the gospel.
Humility also recognizes the limits of political power. Laws can restrain injustice, but they cannot transform hearts. That is the work of the Spirit. The mission of the church of proclaiming the gospel, forming disciples and embodying the love of Christ in our world is still done in and by the power of the Spirit. Therefore, as followers of Christ, we don’t need to panic when we are no longer culturally dominant. We can bear marginality, misunderstanding, even persecution without lashing out, trusting the church’s mission and credibility rest on the Spirit’s work, not on the state’s power.
“There is a reason the Christian symbol is not a throne but a cross.”
There is a reason the Christian symbol is not a throne but a cross. Power was offered to Jesus in the wilderness — “all the kingdoms of the world” — and he refused it, not because the world did not matter, but because the method mattered profoundly. The kingdom comes through self-giving, not self-assertion.
Christian nationalism, for all its passion about preserving a Christian civilization, makes the fatal error of trying to protect the faith through power rather than to embody it from below. It seeks to win through law what can only be won through love. In doing so, it does not strengthen Christianity but disfigures it, trading the gospel’s credibility for the borrowed authority of the state.
Democracy, too, is weakened when any religious tradition seeks dominance rather than contribution. A pluralist democracy depends on citizens who can disagree about ultimate things while still reasoning together about the common good. The moment any group — religious or secular — insists its vision must be enforced rather than argued, democracy itself fractures.
The church’s task is not to conquer the state for Christ but to bear witness to Christ before the state. That witness will have political implications, but it must never be reduced to a quest for control. When we, as Christians, baptize nationalism and embrace coercion, we betray both our Lord and our neighbors.
Yet when we walk the path of humility — confessing our sins, honoring freedom of conscience, serving the marginalized and accepting democratic limits on our power — we strengthen both Christianity’s integrity and democracy’s durability.
Juan Garcia serves as pastor of Primera Iglesia Bautista in Newport News, Va. He is past moderator of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship.
Discussion questions:
- Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36). What do you think he meant by that? How should that shape the way Christians engage with politics and government today?
- The author describes the early church growing “through faithful witness, sacrificial love and moral credibility” rather than political power. In what ways do you think the modern church reflects that model — and in what ways has it drifted from it? What does faithful witness look like in practice when engaging neighbors, coworkers or fellow citizens who hold very different values than ours?
- The author draws a sharp contrast between sacralizing the nation and serving the common good. How do you personally discern the difference in real political moments? When does love of country become an obstacle to faithfulness, and when does it express it?
- The author argues that humility — not power — is the proper posture for Christians in public life. What would it look like practically for you and your church to engage politics with humility? What would have to change?
- The author writes that our faith “stands above both nationalism and democracy” and that our “supreme allegiance is to Christ and his way.” Are there moments when loyalty to a political party, national identity or cultural movement has competed with that allegiance in your own life? How do you navigate that tension?
Previously in this series:
What is democracy? | Caroline Smith
The church as school for democracy | Emily Hull McGee
Democracy as the practice of loving our neighbors | Mary Alice Birdwhistell
Democracy and religious freedom | Carol McEntyre
Democracy as a moral practice, not just a system — Jason Edwards
Love of neighbor is a democratic ideal — Timothy Peoples
Democracy offers a way for Christian’s to express God’s will — Kyle Reese
Democracy: A political response to human sinfulness — Austin Carty