Beyond Christian Nationalism

I'm sorry, but in many ways, Abraham Lincoln was the first Christian Nationalist in the mould of Donald Trump. He chose aggressive war over a just war.

From Crisis

By Peter A. Giersch

If we fear God and seek to live up to what we profess as Christians, then being called a Christian Nationalist should be a wake-up call. 

It can be hard for the average Christian to understand this debate around Christian Nationalism. It’s different from the battle over the separation of Church and State, at least in tenor if not in content.

When I first heard the phrase used as a sort of bogeyman, a great warning of impending doom, I was confused. Are we trying to pretend that the leadership of our country has not been deeply influenced by Christianity from its founding? Without even rebutting the hackneyed claim that all of our Founding Fathers were deists, it is easy to make the case that Christianity is deeply interwoven into our country’s governance in the most obvious ways.

For example, the two chambers of Congress each have a Christian Chaplain who opens every session with a prayer. The Ten Commandments are carved into at least three places in the Supreme Court building. Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address, chiseled into stone on the National Mall, quotes three Bible verses and reminds us that “the judgments of the Lord are righteous and true altogether.” The U.S. Military had Christian chaplains from its inception. Most presidents in our lifetime have made liberal use of the phrase “God Bless America,” and the President of the United States is sworn into office with his hand on a Bible. 

I could go on and on with examples like this, but none of this is new or secret. So why the sudden fear that the leaders of our country might actually govern as Christians? 

It’s not immediately obvious. Paul Miller, a professor at Georgetown and research fellow with the Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission, in an interview with Christianity Today, defines Christian Nationalism in this way:

Christian nationalism believes that the American nation is defined by Christianity and that the government should take steps to keep it that way, to sustain and maintain our Christian heritage. It’s not merely an observation about American history. It is a prescription for what America should do in the future. We should sustain and continue our identity as a Christian nation. 

This definition is tantamount to saying that there is a group of citizens who have an idea of what they believe their country should look like. That’s democracy, isn’t it? 

Where the confusion deepens is when you realize that most of the opponents of Christian Nationalism are Christians. Or, perhaps, this is where the light bulb turns on. The most often quoted definition of Christian Nationalism comes from sociologists Andrew Whitehead and Samuel Perry, who define Christian Nationalism as “a cultural framework, comprising myths, traditions and narratives, that idealizes a fusion of Christianity with American civic life…urging the government to actively promote a specific conservative Christian identity in public life.”

Now the other shoe drops. Now we understand why Christian Nationalism is such a problem for some Christians. That would be the Christians who do not align themselves with “a specific conservative Christian identity.” 

So, it turns out that Christian Nationalism is simply a bogeyman created by Christians of the current minority party—Democrats and Never-Trumpers—who are seeking a shorthand for an ideology that they believe may lead to an abuse of power by the current administration. In Trump’s first term, racism was the ideology that was going to lead to an abuse of power. Christian Nationalism is the new racism. 

I can hardly blame those whose candidate for president lost the last election for wanting to watch the new administration closely and fight against any abuses of power. That’s good democracy, frankly. It’s part of the genius of the two-party system. But do they have to couch their vigilance in personal attacks of “Racist!” and in their religious bigotry against so-called Christian Nationalists? (The Oxford Dictionary defines a bigot as someone who holds a “prejudice against a person or people on the basis of their membership of a particular group.”)

So, let’s call Christian Nationalism for what it is: a vehicle by which the minority party can monitor perceived abuses of power by the current administration.

But underneath it all is another reality, one that really is worth our time to try to understand. It’s the so-called “God Gap” between Republicans and Democrats. Sociologists and pollsters all agree that Christians are gathering in the Republican Party while the Democrats are leaving faith behind.

It doesn’t matter who you look at: Pew, American Enterprise Institute, PRRI Census of American Religion, The Survey Center, Gallup, etc. They all agree that over the past 20 years the Democratic Party has become significantly less religious. According to Pew, 2024-2025 data show that 84 percent of the Republican Party identifies as Christian, while for Democrats the number of those identifying as Christian is between 50 percent and 62 percent. For some reason, the percentage of Democrats identifying as Christian is harder to pin down. 

It could be the nature of what it means to be religious or Christian. If it has anything to do with practicing your faith, or having a strong belief in Christianity, Republicans are twice as likely as Democrats to do so. For example, Republicans attend religious services at a rate of 2 to 1 over Democrats, and surveys indicate they are twice as likely to be “highly religious” than are Democrats. Over half of Republicans report praying daily, while for Democrats it’s about a third. 

We could go on. The share of non-religious voters in the Democratic party is nearly triple that of the Republican party. Fifty-five percent of Americans view the Republican Party as friendly to religion, while 48 percent of the country views the Democratic Party as neutral or unfriendly to religion. And here’s the one statistic that explains this whole Christian Nationalism kerfuffle: 78 percent of Republicans view religion’s influence on society positively, compared to 40 percent of Democrats. 

So the stats are clear. The trends are obvious and picking up speed. It won’t be long before the votes cast in our country are just between those who believe in God and those who do not. Soon, the word Republican will be synonymous with the word “Christian.”

And that’s a frightening thing. 

If we’re going to equate the word Republican with “Christian,” then Republicans should be the most humble, self-aware, un-hypocritical people you can find. Clearly, we’re not that. This should give us pause. Serious pause. If we fear God and seek to live up to what we profess as Christians, then being called a Christian Nationalist should be a wake-up call. 

It’s time to get serious here. Let’s get down on our knees and seek God for personal virtue and for protection and guidance for our country. The Bible is clear that we are to pray for our leaders (1 Timothy 2:1-4), but I think that means all of them—not just the ones we voted for.

Really. We need to lean in to this Christian Nationalist thing and make it a positive. The Catechism of the Catholic Church (2239) teaches that patriotism is a virtue rooted in gratitude, justice, and charity, requiring love and service for one’s country. It involves contributing to the common good, serving one’s fellow citizens, and honoring authority. Does that describe the Republicans? Does that describe you and me?

If we really do believe that “our Christian heritage [is] not merely an observation about American history. It is a prescription for what America should do in the future,” we have a lot to live up to. We need to get our act together if we are going to represent Christ. Anyone looking out at the Republican party right now would likely agree that we are hardly worthy of being called “the Christian party.”  

Where do we start? How can we be salt and light? I believe it begins at home. Like the way that Jordan Peterson told young people not to bother going out to protest if they can’t even clean up their own room. The Catholic Church has the most beautiful teaching on this. It’s called subsidiarity. It says that problems should be handled by the people closest to the problem, by the smallest or most local component of authority.

We all have some responsibility for something: our kids, our jobs, our homes, our neighborhood. When I see my friends losing their minds over some national news story, I’m glad they are engaged in politics, but I hope they have the same passion for the needs of their children, parents, neighbors, employees, and coworkers. Don’t complain that Democrats aren’t good Americans if you’re not a good neighbor, husband, citizen, and friend yourself. 

If Republicans are going to be the Christian party, what we need is a “party line.” A good place to start might be Paul’s exhortation to the Philippians:

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vanity, but humbly regard others as better than yourselves. Be concerned not only with your own interests but also with those of others.  Let your attitude be identical to that of Christ Jesus.

We Christians have every right to engage in politics, and we have a duty to be patriotic and to serve our country—to fight for what we believe in. If we can do so as Christians, we will change the world. 

One man stands as an example for us. He was not even a professed Christian, nor a regular church-goer. People question his motives and the depth of his faith. But he invoked God, quoted Scripture, and fought for what was right. And he changed the world for the better. 

That man was Lincoln. He was a Republican.