#10. Christian Nationalism: What Are We Really Talking About?

This topic will be covered in six parts. This is part 2.

For the others in this series, check out:

Part 1

Part 3

A couple of years ago, my oldest daughter called me from Bible college. I could hear the excitement in her voice—she had something big to share.

“Dad, did you hear?”

“Hear what, honey?”

“Tim Keller went woke!”

I paused, caught off guard. That didn’t sound like the Tim Keller I knew—he wasn’t known for hot takes or knee-jerk reactions.

“What are you talking about?”

She repeated herself, this time with a bit more hesitation: “Tim Keller has gone woke.”

“What makes you think that?”

Eager to explain, she said, “Because he hasn’t spoken out against critical race theory.”

I’ve been around long enough to have seen these kinds of controversies come and go. I hoped my experience might help provide some perspective.

“Not responding doesn’t mean he supports it,” I told her. “It might just mean he’s being wise—he may see nuance where others don’t. Maybe he recognizes that CRT, like many academic theories, can be a useful tool in some cases, even if it’s not universally applicable.”

She was puzzled. “What do you mean, Dad?”

“Well,” I said, “from what I understand—though I’m no expert—critical race theory is just that: a theory. It’s like a wrench in a toolbox. It might be helpful in a particular situation, but you can’t use it to fix everything. It’s a conversation partner, not a cornerstone.”

She understood.

Over the years, I’ve often been asked, “Are you woke?”

My response is always the same: “What do you mean by that? Define it for me, and then I’ll answer.”

I’ve found that the term “woke” is used with vastly different—and often opposing—meanings, and people usually assume others share their definition.

Instead of reacting impulsively, I prefer to ask for clarity first, so we can have a thoughtful and honest conversation from there.

True wisdom calls us to pause, listen closely, and seek clarity before leaping to judgment.

I bring this up because the same confusion surrounds the term Christian nationalism.

It’s become a kind of boogeyman—everyone uses the term, but few define it clearly. And when terms are thrown around without definition, we end up talking past each other, reinforcing tribal lines rather than seeking truth.

So just like with woke, if we are going to engage with the topic of Christian nationalism, we need a real definition—one that’s not a caricature. Otherwise, we’re just playing to the crowd rather than pursuing clarity and faithfulness.

In Search of a Definition

In a time when the lines between faith and politics are increasingly blurred, the church needs clarity—clarity shaped by careful analysis and a deep commitment to truth above all else.

It’s the kind of clarity that comes from rightly handling “the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15), driven by a desire to see Christ glorified in all things and grounded in the conviction that the message must be communicated through means that reflect its transformative nature.

That’s why I’m engaging the topic of Christian nationalism—not as a political theorist, but as someone deeply invested in the life and mission of the church.

In light of that, let’s proceed.

Having read and interviewed various scholars on the subject, I have found Paul Miller’s The Religion of American Greatness to be one of the more insightful and illuminating guides to understanding Christian nationalism. His approach is politically savvy and intellectually fair. He carefully sifts through the various layers and ideas upon which it is constructed.

My approach is more modest in scope. I’m not writing from the halls of academia or political institutions, but from the frontlines of discipleship, cultural engagement, and theological reflection.

To that end, I’ve chosen to engage with the more populist and accessible expression as articulated in Christian Nationalism: A Biblical Guide to Taking Dominion and Discipling Nations by Andrew Torba and Andrew Isker.

Though brief, Torba and Isker outline many of the core convictions that define the Christian nationalist movement, making it a helpful entry point for getting a foundation for understanding it.

The book is endorsed by none other than Doug Wilson, who, in typical Doug Wilson flair, wrote,

“If you want to know more about Christian Nationalism, this book is for you. You will be getting your info from the horse’s mouth, as it were, instead of from the mainstream media, which is oriented more to the other end of the horse.”1

Wilson’s endorsement offers more than just a commendation—it gives us a glimpse into the kind of community that champions this message. Often, before we even examine a movement’s ideas, we begin to understand it by looking at the people who embody it—their posture, priorities, and tone all speak volumes.

That’s why it’s worth paying attention to how the book opens. It begins with “The Christian Nationalist Declaration”—a kind of manifesto that lays out who they believe they are and what they hope to bring about in the world. They write,

“Christian Nationalists are Christians, before anything else, we profess to be followers of Jesus Christ and his Apostles. One cannot be a Christian Nationalist unless one is first a Christian, but it is possible for non-Christians to be friendly and sympathetic toward the Christian Nationalist movement. Christianity is not limited to any race, ethnicity or culture (1 Cor. 12:13, Gal. 3:27-29). Therefore, Christian Nationalism cannot be limited to any race, ethnicity, or culture. As Christians, following in obedience to the command of Jesus Christ to go and make disciples of all nations, our primary goal is to always preach the gospel of Jesus Christ first (Matt. 28:19-20).

Then, after we have attained enough Christians in our nation, we are obliged to peacefully order our state governments in such a way as to help Christianity grow and flourish in our states without restrictions. This is in obedience to our Lord and his command. The purpose of government, from a Christian perspective, is to preserve and protect the Christian understanding of civilization, otherwise known as Christendom (Prov. 8:15, Dan. 4:17, Rom. 12:21; Rom. 13:1-2), as opposed to such things as the Marxist understanding of civilization, or the Islamic understanding.”2

Self-definitions can be helpful, but they often lack the nuance I’m looking for.

Years ago, I wanted to learn more about C.S. Lewis, so I read his autobiography, Surprised by Joy. While it was insightful to hear his story in his own words, I came away feeling unsatisfied.

I wanted more than just his reflections—I wanted to understand the events that shaped him, the relationships that influenced him, and the context that gave rise to his convictions.

Autobiographies, like self-definitions, often tell us how someone wants to be seen. But they don’t always show us the deeper layers—the tensions, turning points, or formative influences that really tell the story.

I find the same to be true when evaluating movements like Christian nationalism. A self-definition can state intentions or ideals, but I want to understand what gave rise to those beliefs.

What shaped them?

What convictions lie beneath the surface?

What story are they really telling?

That’s where Paul Miller’s analysis helps,

“Christian nationalism asserts that there is something identifiable as an American ‘nation,’ distinct from other nations; the American nationhood is and should remain defined by Christianity or Christian cultural norms; and that the American people and their government should actively work to defend, sustain, and cultivate America’s Christian culture, heritage, and values. Historians have often argued that a generic Protestant Christianity served as the de facto established religion of the United States until the 1960s. A Christian nationalist is someone who believes that historical fact is normative for today, that the United States should return to the days of a quasi-official, nondenominational (Judeo-) Christian establishment that privileges Christian norms, values, symbols, culture, and rhetoric in American public life and public policy. They do not advocate repeal of the First Amendment, but they do favor a strongly ‘accommodationist’ interpretation of it in which the government is permitted to favor religion over irreligion, and even favor America’s historically predominant religious tradition (i.e., Christianity) over new or different ones. Christian nationalists believe that the American nation was, is, and should remain a ‘Christian nation’—that America’s identity as a Christian nation is not merely a historical fact but a moral imperative, an ideological goal, and a policy program for the future, which also means that defining the nation’s religious and cultural identity is rightfully part of the government’s responsibility.”3

In a conversation on the Those Who Serve the Lord podcast, James Davison Hunter—one of the most influential sociologists of American public life—noted that Christian nationalism did not arise from a coherent theological vision but rather functions primarily as a tribal identity:

“Christian nationalism is only an identity group. People don’t even try to embed Christian nationalism within a serious theology. They don’t even try. It’s become simply tribal in nature. It’s one identity group like any other identity group. To the point now surveys are showing that people who identify with Christian nationalism oftentimes aren’t even Christian. They don’t even identify as Christian anymore. It’s just a flag to wave. It’s an identity group. And that’s part of the transformation of evangelicalism. Much of evangelicalism, it is in the name of Christianity, is becoming something quite secular and pagan and very political.”4

The Fallacies

Is Hunter’s assessment correct?

Does Christian nationalism truly lack a biblical theology?

Are non-Christians among its ranks?

Perhaps.

Like any broad movement, it attracts those more interested in its cultural or political advantages than its theological substance.

But these sociological complexities, while worth noting, must not obscure the deeper issue: the movement’s very self-definition is built on a series of theological and logical fallacies that require closer examination.

Let’s look.

1. Non-sequitur (does not logically follow):

“Christianity is not limited to any race, ethnicity or culture… therefore, Christian Nationalism cannot be limited to any race, ethnicity, or culture.”

Just because Christianity is universal in scope does not mean that a political movement claiming to represent it is automatically free from racial, ethnic, or cultural bias.

If we surveyed the New Testament, we’d quickly see that even the early church was shaped by cultural and ethnic influences. Despite their shared faith in Jesus, these believers still struggled with prejudice and practiced things that were out of step with the gospel.

Acts 6:1—when the Hellenists (Greek speaking Jews) were being neglected in the distribution of food.

Acts 10-11—Peter and Cornelius and how the relationship between Jews and Gentiles was to be worked (and lived) out. It was ethnic and cultural.

Acts 15—The Jerusalem Council wasn’t just a theological debate, but it exposed cultural class of Jewish Christians over Gentile believers.

Galatians 2:11–14 — Paul publicly confronts Peter after he withdraws from fellowship with Gentile believers due to pressure from a certain Jewish group. Paul rebukes him, declaring that Peter “stood condemned,” because his actions contradicted the truth of the gospel—a gospel that breaks down ethnic barriers and unites all believers in Christ. It’s a powerful and sobering moment: one apostle, driven by fear of his own ethnic group, steps back from the shared table of fellowship; another, with bold conviction, calls him out for compromising the very heart of the gospel.

Ephesians 2:11-22—Paul explicitly refers to the deep divide between Jews and Gentiles, calling it a “dividing wall of hostility.” Christ doesn’t just reconcile individuals to God—he reconciles hostile ethnic groups to each other, creating a new, unified body.

Romans 14-15—There were cultural and ethnic tensions in the church. The Roman church had tensions between Jewish believers (who kept kosher laws and sabbaths) and Gentile believers (who didn’t). Paul exhorts them not to despise or judge each other, but to live in mutual respect and unity. This shows the church was struggling to live out unity in the gospel across ethnic-cultural lines.

Christian nationalists would likely affirm many of these biblical passages in principle, but when pressed, they often advocate for a specific expression of Christianity—one rooted in their interpretation of American history and the surrounding culture, shaped primarily by a Northern European Protestant tradition.

Christian nationalism is neither unique nor new.

Throughout history, the church has always had to wrestle with such issues, often times those most closely tied to ethnonational identity—whether American, Russian, Afrikaner, or Rwandan, who often see this identity as divinely sanctioned, often at the expense of others.

By giving such identity a theological justification, it can serve as a pretext for legitimizing various forms of prejudice, exclusion, or even violence.

I have seen this firsthand, having pastored a church that had Hutus and Tutsis sitting in the same worship service. They may have spoken the same language, come from the same city, and claimed the same faith, but they wouldn’t share certain tribal giveaways (such as names) with others in the church, fearful that they might be the target of violence.

2. Equivocation fallacy:

“Christian Nationalists are Christians… One cannot be a Christian Nationalist unless one is first a Christian…”

Statements like these use the word Christian in two different senses—one referring to genuine discipleship in Christ, the other to affiliation with a political ideology—without clarifying the distinction.

By appropriating the term Christian for their political movement, Christian nationalists blur the line between following Jesus and adhering to a specific cultural and political agenda.

This conflation not only distorts the gospel but also risks redefining Christian identity in terms of national loyalty rather than covenantal faithfulness to Christ.

3. Begging the question (circular reasoning):

“We are obliged to peacefully order our state governments in such a way as to help Christianity grow…”

This is the crux of their argument, but also one of the biggest fallacies, because it assumes the very thing it needs to prove—that governments are biblically commanded to establish and protect Christianity institutionally.

There is no place in Scripture where governments are ordered to help Christianity flourish.

Nowhere does the New Testament teach that Christians are to gain political power to build a theocratic or Christendom-style society.

The claim assumes a particular (and debated) interpretation of biblical texts like Romans 13.

While some theological traditions (e.g., Kuyperianism) affirm that government is a legitimate sphere where Christ’s Lordship should be displayed through just structures and laws, the real tension lies in discerning how this is pursued, recognizing that structures can guide behavior but cannot produce genuine spiritual transformation.

Christian history is replete with cautionary tales—when believers have wielded political power, the results have often betrayed the very message they sought to uphold.

One need only consider the theological justifications used in apartheid-era South Africa to see how the church’s alignment with state power can distort both governance and witness.

It’s also important to recognize that the logic behind this approach—the idea that a religious majority should shape state systems to advance its faith—is not unique to Christianity. A similar rationale has been employed by Buddhists, Hindus, and Islamic scholars to justify the establishment of religion in their countries.56

This parallel is not intended to equate different faith traditions, but to highlight a common impulse: the desire to advance religious belief through the mechanisms of the state. And if history is any guide, such attempts often lead not to the flourishing of faith, but to its distortion and decline.

4. False dichotomy:

“The purpose of government… is to protect the Christian understanding of civilization… as opposed to Marxist or Islamic understandings.”

This argument presents a false binary—either the government is Christian, or it is Marxist/Islamic, ignoring other legitimate political frameworks such as pluralism, natural law, or constitutional democracy, all of which can align with Christian ethics.

It also ignores the fact that many successful governments around the world embrace democratic principles without any formal religious foundation.7

Christianity may have helped lay the groundwork for democratic republics, but that does not mean others cannot adopt or adapt these principles. Being the first to articulate or implement a political idea does not mean exclusive ownership of it.

While Christianity has undoubtedly shaped aspects of Western governance, America has never been a fully Christian nation. Rather, it has always been a hybrid, deeply influenced by the Enlightenment and shaped by a variety of intellectual, cultural, and religious sources.8 We’ll explore this complexity more fully in the next article.

5. Category error (Confusing the Church and State)

How Should We Understand “Nation”?

One of the foundational errors of Christian nationalism is a misreading of what Jesus meant when He commanded His followers to “make disciples of all nations.” Many Christian nationalists interpret “nations” in the Great Commission as geopolitical nation-states. But Jesus’ words—and the New Testament as a whole—point in a very different direction.

As Paul D. Miller explains:

“Christian nationalism asserts that there is something identifiable as an American ‘nation,’ distinct from other nations; that American nationhood is and should remain defined by Christianity or Christian cultural norms; and that the American people and their government should actively work to defend, sustain, and cultivate America’s Christian culture, heritage, and values.”9

What did Jesus mean?

a. The New Testament Context

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations (Greek: ethnē), baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”—Matthew 28:19–20 (ESV).

The Greek word ethnē (ἔθνη)—from which we get the word “ethnic”—refers to peoples, tribes, or ethnic groups, not to modern political nation-states like France, Brazil, or the United States. In the first-century Greco-Roman world, ethnē typically meant the “Gentiles,” or all non-Jewish peoples.

Jesus isn’t commanding His followers to Christianize governments or legislate belief. It is a call to make disciples from every people group on earth. This aligns with the vision of Revelation 7:9, where John sees a “great multitude that no one could number, from every nation (ethnos), from all tribes and peoples and languages,” worshiping the Lamb.

The goal is not political transformation, it is the creation of a new humanity in Christ, composed of diverse peoples united not by flags or borders, but by faith in the risen King.

b. The Old Testament Context

One of the common Christian nationalist mistakes is to apply Old Testament verses, such as 2 Chronicles 7:14, Isaiah 60, or Psalm 33:12 (“Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord”), directly to modern political states.

This is a fundamental misreading.

These passages were written to and about ancient Israel, the covenant people of God under the Mosaic Law. Israel was a theocracy—governed directly by God through civil, ceremonial, and moral laws. Psalm 33 is not a generic promise to any God-fearing country; it’s a celebration of God’s faithfulness to His covenant people, Israel.

To apply these texts to countries like the United States, Britain, or any other modern state is to conflate God’s covenant with Israel and His redemptive plan in Christ with human political identities. It collapses the distinction between the people of God and the political powers of this world.

Jesus and the apostles never extended Israel’s theocratic blessings to Gentile nations. Instead, the church becomes the new covenant community, drawn from every nation, yet politically distinct from all of them.

c. A New Definition of “Nation” in the New Covenant

In the New Testament, the concept of “nation” is redefined around the kingdom of God. No longer is God’s people limited to one ethnic group or political body. Through Christ, the gospel is extended to all ethnē—all peoples.

The church is a transcultural, multiethnic body. It is not tied to borders, flags, or constitutions. It is not built on common ancestry, but on shared allegiance to King Jesus. As Peter reminds us:

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession…”— 1 Peter 2:9

This “holy nation” is not a geopolitical state—it is the global body of believers, those called out of darkness into His marvelous light. It is the church, the people of the kingdom, who represent God’s reign on earth.

To interpret “nation” in the Great Commission as a call to Christianize modern political states is to misread both the Scripture and the arc of redemptive history.

Jesus never called His followers to establish Christian governments—He called them to form a kingdom people from every tribe, tongue, and nation.

Christian nationalism distorts this mission by replacing the multiethnic, cross-shaped church with a culturally narrow, politically charged agenda. It treats politics religiously, and its religion politically. The church must recover its global, kingdom-centered identity and resist the temptation to confuse civic power with gospel faithfulness.

d. Theocratic assumption (imposing OT Civil Norms): “We are obliged to… help Christianity grow and flourish in our states without restrictions.”

This argument assumes a return to a Christian theocracy or a revival of the Christendom model, where the state explicitly supports and promotes Christianity.

But this vision stands in opposition to the New Testament model of church growth, which occurs not through state power or official endorsement, but through faithful witness, sacrificial service, suffering, and Spirit-empowered persuasion (see Acts, 1 Peter, and John 18:36).

Ironically, it is this very desire to strengthen Christianity through political means that ends up undermining it.

e. Misuse of biblical texts.

Verses like Proverbs 8:15 and Daniel 4:17 are often cited to support a Christendom approach, but these are wisdom and apocalyptic texts, not prescriptions for public policy.

Even Romans 13, which affirms that governments are instituted by God, doesn’t demand that they explicitly uphold Christianity. It speaks of maintaining justice and order, not enforcing religious orthodoxy.

Using any of these texts to justify a Christendom-like state stretches the biblical witness beyond its intent.

Concluding Thoughts

This is just a brief sampling of Christian nationalist claims. I have only scratched the surface by examining their definition and the biblical ideas implicit within it.

Undoubtedly, these beliefs span a wide spectrum, and this article makes no pretense of being exhaustive—entire volumes have been dedicated to exploring their theological, historical, and cultural complexities.

After careful consideration, I agree with James Davison Hunter’s assessment that Christian nationalism lacks a serious theology. As a movement, it suffers from a weak hermeneutic and an even more fragile theological foundation.

Perhaps even more influential than their theology is their appeal to an idealized version of America’s past—a narrative that often shapes their worldview.

In the next installment, we’ll explore the spiritual and ideological roots of America’s founding—and consider what that means for the church today.