You're Not Alone In Political Exile

This article is for those who feel lost, gaslit, confused, or attacked; for those who don’t fit in; for those experiencing the exile of rejection from those who are so confident in their positions; for those searching for a way forward amidst the chaos of our times: you are not alone. There may be some who disagree with what I am about to write. I would be happy to discuss those disagreements, but this is intended as encouragement to those who do agree. I want you to know that you are not alone.

Since the election of Donald Trump and especially since the murder of Charlie Kirk, the public rhetoric of our elected leaders, the policies they enact, and the support they possess from influencers and pastors alike have been wildly disorienting. For many, it has felt like living in a Twilight Zone episode. Consequently, in the constant chaos—an intentional chaos used to distract and overwhelm us—many have sought to find comfort in being comfortable. That is, choosing a side in the culture wars, claiming a tribe that will welcome and protect you, assuming moral superiority over others, and making enemies of those who oppose you is often more comfortable than insisting on nuance, humility, compassion, and irenicism.

Additionally, and to the point, the infusion of “faith” into the dialogue has been the most exhausting to navigate. The continued solidification of Christian nationalism 1—better defined as “pagan nationalism with Christian symbols”—not only creates a societal divide amongst citizens of the U.S., but also an ecclesiastical divide amongst citizens of heaven. Interestingly, rejecting the leveraging and pursuit of power for political gain is viewed by some as a lack of Christian courage and faith, rather than the presence of Christian faithfulness. For many, the line between Christian faithfulness and pagan nationalism has become blurred, and various forces seem to make it harder to discern.

For example, this “pagan nationalism with Christian symbols” has been incredibly pervasive in recent days, most recently in the memorial of Charlie Kirk. It is right to honor and remember someone who has died. It is right to denounce the political violence that took his life. It is right to fix our eyes on the giver and sustainer of life in the midst of our grief. It is beautiful to extend forgiveness to those who have caused us sorrow. Each of these elements was present in the memorial. However, this is markedly different from infusing those good and honorable aspects of the memorial with the blatant breaking of the third commandment that also took place at that memorial. The Lord’s name was constantly taken in vain throughout the memorial.

One aspect that brought me to tears with anger and sadness was Chris Tomlin, a popular songwriter whose songs have shaped a generation of evangelicals. There was such an irony as he sang:

“Your name is the highest,

Your name is the greatest,

Your name stands above them all.

All thrones and dominions,

All powers and positions,

Your name stands above them all.”

As he sang those words, he stood on a stage with two massive American flags, the camera panning over members of the administration—an administration that has consistently acted contrary to the character and nature of that name, throne, and dominion—in a room filled with those donning political imagery. The songs used in many of our churches, written to orient us to a servant King of mercy, compassion, and holiness, were used in service of a gathering filled with angry, vitriolic, combative, heretical, fear-mongering nationalism that also, and this is no exaggeration, had speakers whose speeches could have cited Hitler himself.2 There was so much more, but I simply do not have the space in this article to properly consider the extent to which the Lord's name was taken in vain over and over again. This would require an entirely separate post.

And to be fair, the impulse to use the Christian faith, symbols, and the name of Christ for political gain is not just a conservative issue. We live in a time when both conservatives and progressives want to claim Christ for their political agendas and view their position as faithful, when, in reality, both sides act more like the disciples before Jesus ascended, essentially asking, “So, when are you going to make Israel great again?” In other words, Jesus was just a way to justify power.

The point is that many of us, though imperfect and flawed in many ways, see this season for what it is. Too often, Jesus is a means to a political end.

In reality, Jesus would affirm and be appalled by the perspectives and policies of both our political parties. Of course, the way in which these parties fight, you would think Jesus has so clearly taken sides. However, a faithful Christian must resist the temptation to conflate their faith with a political party. I know that seems obvious, and few would explicitly affirm otherwise (though some certainly do), but in practice, many have done just that. There are so many issues that do not have neat, easy answers or policies, and that faithful Christians must realize will come with tension—tension that reflects faithfulness.

For example, a friend recently posted on Facebook his own lament of feeling pulled in opposite directions. He rightly highlights how our contemporary times refuse to allow nuance and the belief that truth is found on both ends of our political spectrums (I had started drafting a similar list, but, with his permission, I thought I’d save myself the work, given he was so perfectly succinct). He lamented:

I wish there was a way to acknowledge truth anywhere we find it without being pigeonholed into a tribe or being accused of “whataboutisms” or playing the “both sides” card. 

I wish we can acknowledge that the complete loss of Western values is truly detrimental to global peace without being called a Christian nationalist.  

I wish we can acknowledge that some Western values do need to be interrogated without being told to “go back to where you came from.”

I wish we can acknowledge Black Lives Matter without being accused of hating White people.

I wish we can acknowledge that all lives do truly matter (as a matter of fact, not as the slogan) without being accused of hating Black people.

I wish we can acknowledge that White Supremacy is a two-winged devil (with conservative and progressive wings) and its violent ideology manifests as mass shootings across its entire wingspan.

I wish we can acknowledge that Palestinians are suffering genocide at the hands of modern-day Israel without being called an anti-Semite.

I wish we can acknowledge that Hamas shouldn’t have brutally attacked and kidnapped Israelis without being called a colonizer. 

I wish we can acknowledge and uphold the humanity of our LGBTQ neighbors without being called a heretic.

I wish we can acknowledge the unchanged apostolic standard of sexuality within the church while not judging or being judged by those outside the church. 

I wish we can acknowledge that masculinity can be toxic in some situations without being told we hate men. 

I wish we can acknowledge that masculinity can be redeemed, good, and righteous without being called patriarchal.

I wish we can acknowledge that immigrants should integrate to their new home nation to some degree for social cohesion without being called oppressive.

I wish we can acknowledge that immigrants don’t have to give up their identity to be accepted in their new nation and be told, “You can always go back to where you came from.”

I wish we can acknowledge that affirmative action has helped marginalized people get equal footing in their education and work while some have unfairly abused the system for personal gain. In that sense, I wish we can work to improve affirmative action policies instead getting rid of it entirely without being called a Marxist.

I wish we can encourage hard work and merit-based promotions without being accused of supporting systemic racism. 

I wish we can acknowledge that capitalism has historically done more to raise people out of poverty than any economic system in human history without being labeled a greedy, right-wing corporatist.

I wish we can acknowledge that the rise of socialism in societies has historically indicated a growing dissatisfaction among the working class due to low wages, working and living conditions, and extreme income disparity—issues that should concern everyone not in the billionaire class.

I wish we stopped believing ideological and political narratives that pit us against each other by making the vast majority of us seem more extreme than we actually are. 

I wish we stopped participating in the oppression Olympics by competing for who’s the most oppressed or being the most neglected/erased and instead participated in the hospitality Olympics by competing for who’s the most neighborly.

I wish we leaned into the Christian Scriptures for our moral compass by seeking to be peacemakers and not culture warriors. 

I wish we looked to Jesus instead of our social media algorithms during moments of crises so that we become more like the Suffering Servant instead of getting rage-baited.

Yes and amen. He then helpfully draws on Herman Bavinck to remind us, "While conservatism closes its eyes to changes in society, and [progressivism] fails to have a solid standpoint in the streams of events, a reformation that proceeds from a Christian principle combines both" (Herman Bavinck, "Essays on Religion, Science, and Society," p. 143). Faithful Christianity is progressively conservative or conservatively progressive, whichever you prefer. Yet, right now, such a posture is so challenging to maintain.

Here is the point I want to emphasize: If you feel the tensions of political exile––of being home but not home––you are not alone in your exile. 

Many of us are appalled by those who use Christ for political gain, while also at times agreeing with aspects of their arguments. Many of us have vehemently pro-conservative ideas, while also being vehemently pro-progressive ideas as well. Many of us are concerned about contemporary perspectives on sex, sexuality, gender, abortion, Western values, capitalism, and more, but (and maybe some of this is more me than you) who are also for major gun reform, robust social safety nets funded significantly by all––including the wealthy, soft power around the world, and a posture of hospitality toward the foreigner and immigrant. 

Many of us are deeply concerned with the erosion of our liberal (liberal in the historic use of the word) and constitutional republic, but who care more about honoring Christ than about demanding our rights. Many of us are willing to insist that a person can be correct in what they argue and be sinfully wrong in the way they argue. Many of us believe that “getting the Gospel right”––that is, affirming Jesus as Lord and Savior of sinners (which is itself a truncated definition of the Gospel 3)––does not give license for rhetoric and opinions that are un-Christlike. Many of us who believe a lack of character in our leaders can be more destructive than disagreeable policies. As a result, there are those of us who would rather lose all cultural power and influence, thus experiencing marginalization and even oppression, but know we have pursued reflecting the character of Christ, than be a culture warrior who uses power to keep Christians powerful. There are those of us who refuse to bow our knees to the “pagan nationalism with Christian symbols” of our day.  

If this resonates with you, you are not alone. I pray, “The Lord bless you and keep you, make his face shine on you and be gracious to you, turn his face toward you, and give you peace.” Until Zion.

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(1) For more on Christian Nationalism, see my article “The Missiology of Christian Nationalism.” Also, for my post January 6th sermon from 2021, see my sermon “Thy Kingdom Come: A Response to Christian Nationalism”

(2) I know the comparison to Nazi Germany, for many, gets old. However, those who study political science and history have noted the clear connections between the work of Carl Schmitt––a well-known political and legal theorist who provided intellectual and juridical justification for parts of the Nazi regime––and this current administration. I note this not as a matter of scoring political points, but as a matter of fact––a fact important to discerning our times. There are countless resources to read on this issue, including reading Schmitt himself (See The Concept of the Political). Additionally, check out “Can Schmitt's Political Theology Be Redeemed?” by Michael Altenburger. Interestingly, the redeemable aspects of Schmit are not leveraged by Donald Trump. Rather, the irredeemable aspects are leveraged. Lastly, for a really helpful summary of the connections, see the article by David French, “How a German Thinker Explains MAGA Morality.”

(3) For more on what it means to proclaim the fullness of the Gospel, see an article I have referenced many times over the years by Anthony Bradley called “The Great Commission Christianity Keeps Blacks Away From Evangelicalism”