Why Christians Keep Getting Politics So Wrong

Kaitlyn Schiess is joined by Duke Kwon at An Evening with the Holy Post: DC to diagnose some of the biggest ways the church mishandles politics and where we go from here.

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Kaitlyn: One of the, I think, most politically relevant Christian ideas is that we are fallen and finite creatures who are given, by the grace of God, revelation about how humans should function, about how human communities should work, about how we might worship and honor God—but we remain fallen and finite. And one of the great legacies of Christian theology is supposed to be some pretty serious humility about the kinds of judgments that we make, especially political judgments. Because—along the lines of what Duke was saying earlier—we’re always taking this wild and unwieldy book of Scripture and trying to figure out: What is it saying to this moment? To this question that it never really intended to answer, right? To this political situation that is not directly imagined in the text.

We’re trying to make our best judgments about that—but we’re not sure. And I think starting there can help you say, “I’m making different judgments than these other Christians, but I’m also very aware that I could be wrong.” Part of my concern with them is not just the conclusion they’ve come to, but the method they’ve used to come to that conclusion. It’s not just the policy I disagree with—it’s the posture of, like, “I’m going to, from this upper position that I believe only God can ultimately have, declare how human communities should function,” with a level of confidence I don’t think they should have.

And if you’re really going to get into it with them, one of my favorite things to talk to other Christians about is this: One of the central biblical texts that tells us about politics is not just Romans 13—which everyone goes to, right? “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities.” We use that when we like who’s in charge. And then we go to Acts 5:29—“We must obey God rather than human beings”—when we don’t like who’s in charge. But Romans 12 essentially says, “Live at peace with everyone, as far as it depends on you. Leave vengeance up to God.” Which I think is really, in a nutshell, a Christian idea of politics: do your best to live well with each other.

Paul could not have imagined Christians having the political power we have today, but I think he would agree—we are trying to seek flourishing for the community we’re in, to the best of our ability. But if what we’re trying to do is put divine judgment on other people, then we have overstepped our bounds. We’re putting ourselves in a position we shouldn’t be in. And that’s not to have a Bible study lesson with your non-believing coworkers, but just to say: I’m not trying to jockey back and forth between what I think Christians should do in politics and what these other people think. I’m just trying to say that one of the more foundational Christian beliefs about this is the humility part—that we are doing the best we can, but ultimately, that judgment belongs to God.

Duke Kwon: I’m still thinking about what you said—so good. Let me just add real quickly a couple thoughts. One is, I agree—the hubris thing is so important in this time. Because it’s become popular to respond in a way where the first and main response is to differentiate myself from “those Christians over there.” And the reason I think that’s important is because we undermine the integrity of the gospel in this sense: The reason why Christians are so screwed up is because the gospel of grace—and the mode of salvation Christ offers to us—happens to be by grace alone. And that creates a lot of problems, because you can bear the name of Christ and be really wrong about a lot of things—and we all are. So we’ve got to be careful not to undermine the long-term witness to this person, about their understanding of the gospel and the heart of the Christian faith, just because I want to save my own reputation and distance myself from “those bad Christians over there.” 

I actually had this very conversation with a non-Christian this afternoon. He was just like, “What is going on with all these Christians?” And what I said to him was: It’s actually worse than you think. Because in my reading of history, almost every single terrible thing that’s happened in American history has been backed by sacrificed power granted by the Christian Church in a terrible, embarrassing way. Christians have almost underwritten every terrible thing. And it’s horrible. That’s its own conversation—but that’s not the fullness of the story.

So what I tried to do was say: Not just American history—go through history, just in the West. There have been moments when the church has done terrible things, and almost always it’s born of a lust for power. The church wants to drag itself out of the margins, to be legitimized, to put its stamp on something in Christ’s name—and it ends up being evil and terrible and crushing the people who are in the margins. Almost always. That’s the pattern. And the church has always flourish

ed most when it’s been unimpressive, weak, and broken—on the margins of society. But we’re just never content to stay there. So we drift over here: “Hey, look at us,” and we’re killing people. Then we find ourselves back in the margins. And pretty soon we’re like, “We hate being overlooked. We want to make a difference. We want to change the world for Christ.” So we drift back into the center of things. And then it’s like, “Hey, we’re in power. Let’s crush people and get our way in Jesus’ name.” This is what we do.

So we had this conversation—he actually brought it up—and said, “But that’s not what the Bible says, right?” And I said, “Exactly right.” Because the Bible is a story—a different story—about power coming through weakness, and life coming through death, and God coming down. And His invitation is for us to descend with Him—in repentance for our sin, in humility, in denial of self. That is at the heart of the Christian faith. So yes, the examples you’re pointing to are not a good representation of the Christian faith. But the drift and tendency of all of our hearts—mine included—is always toward being impressive, toward being powerful. And what’s going to save us from that? It’s Jesus. The one who actually renounced power and privilege. The one who was willing to die, though He was the source of life. The one who was willing to descend. Isn’t that a more beautiful way?

Some Christians have it wrong. Yeah. But I do too. And so do you. Will you descend with me in the way of Jesus? I just wonder if we can take where people start and bring them into the story of the gospel—and not settle for, “Man, I can’t stand those Christians either,” and think we’re actually doing something good with that.

Kaitlyn: Ah, that’s so good.