Because Jesus didn’t die so you could slap His name on your political campaign signs.
Let’s be real. There’s a difference between loving your country and baptizing your politics in the blood of Jesus. Somewhere along the way, a chunk of the American church decided that the best way to honor Christ was to trade in the gospel for red, white, and blue. And before you clutch your pearls—no, this isn’t some leftist, progressive deconstruction project. I’m not here to promote godless globalism. I’m here, as a Bible-believing, theologically Reformed Christian, to call out the dumpster fire that is Christian nationalism.
Let’s define it real quick. Christian nationalism is the belief that America is a Christian nation by divine decree, and therefore, American law and society should reflect a particular brand of Christian doctrine—usually the loudest, most politicized version. Think: less Sermon on the Mount, more Sermon on the Senate floor.
And it’s not just misguided—it’s dangerous. It’s a theological and political franken-gospel that merges kingdom language with campaign slogans. It puts Jesus in a voting booth and expects Him to wear a flag pin.
It’s not patriotism. It’s idolatry.
And it’s time we torch it with actual biblical theology.
Let’s go section by section and dismantle this brick by brick. Not with CNN headlines or MSNBC opinions—but with the Word of God and the backbone of historic Reformed theology.
The Rise of Christian Nationalism – Or, How We Confused Christ with Uncle Sam
You’ve seen the signs—literally. “Jesus is King” signs next to “Trump 2024” flags. American eagles soaring next to crosses. Churches hosting “patriotic worship nights” where we praise the lamb and the land in the same breath. Somewhere, someone’s youth group is doing an altar call to Lee Greenwood.
Let me be blunt: America is not the promised land.
God did not establish a covenant with the Founding Fathers. The Constitution is not Scripture. And Jesus is not running for office.
Romans 13 tells us that God ordains governing authorities, but it never says He endorses a nation as His favorite child. In fact, the only nation ever truly called by God was Israel—and even they blew it so often that God sent them into exile more than once.
Jesus didn’t come to redeem America. He came to redeem sinners.
So where did this weird Jesus + Constitution theology come from? A combination of civil religion, post-World War II nationalism, and a heavy dose of fear-based politics. Somewhere between the Cold War and Fox News, Christianity became a cultural badge instead of a cruciform lifestyle.
You can love your country. Great. Pray for it. Vote. Run for office. Wave a flag on the Fourth. But the moment you merge your American identity with your identity in Christ, you’ve stepped off holy ground and into a political minefield.
You can’t serve two masters—even if one of them is wearing stars and stripes.
Doug Wilson’s Theocracy and the Golden Calf of Mere Christendom
Let’s talk about Doug Wilson. Or as I like to call him: the guy who wants to cosplay as Constantine.
Doug Wilson is smart, articulate, and a gifted rhetorician. He’s also the theological equivalent of that guy who insists the Bible proves you should homeschool your kids, churn your own butter, and institute biblical law over the entire United States.
In Mere Christendom, Wilson lays out his dream scenario: a world where civil governments are explicitly Christian, where biblical law is enforced, and where the magistrate carries not only the sword but the pulpit too. It’s Christian Reconstructionism with a fresh coat of Reformed-sounding paint.
It sounds bold. It sounds zealous. It even sounds appealing if you're tired of drag queen story hours and progressive politics infecting public schools. But there’s just one major problem: it’s not biblical.
Wilson’s vision stands in stark contrast to the historical Reformed doctrine of the Two Kingdoms. That doctrine, championed by John Calvin, Martin Luther, and many after them, teaches that God rules the spiritual kingdom (the church) through the Word and sacraments, and the civil kingdom (the state) through law and justice. They’re distinct. Related, but distinct. The church is not meant to rule the state, and the state is not meant to dictate theology.
When you read through the New Testament, there’s no vision of a Christian theocracy. There is no call for Christians to take over the Roman Senate. Paul didn’t write letters to Caesar demanding Christian governance. He wrote to churches, calling them to holiness, submission to authority (Romans 13), and bold gospel proclamation.
Doug wants dominion. The Bible calls us to discipleship.
Wilson’s vision isn’t Reformed—it’s Rome. And last time I checked, we Protestants had a pretty firm stance on mixing state and church too closely (see: 1517).
So what’s the golden calf here? It’s power. The desire to “Christianize” the government isn’t about honoring God—it’s about control. It’s about making the culture behave morally through force rather than regenerating hearts through the Spirit.
Newsflash: you can’t legislate the gospel.
We’re not here to run the world. We’re here to testify to a better one.
Reformed Theology and the Two Kingdoms – Why Jesus Doesn’t Need a Flag
Let’s get back to the theology that doesn’t trend on Twitter. The “Two Kingdoms” doctrine is old school—but not like fundamentalist-fundraiser-southern-baptist old school. I mean Reformation old school.
The idea is simple: Christ rules over two distinct but interrelated realms. The spiritual kingdom, which is the church—His redeemed, Spirit-filled, gospel-declared people. And the civil kingdom, which includes governments, legal systems, and the neighbor who keeps letting his dog poop in your yard. That’s the Two Kingdoms lens.
John Calvin didn’t try to Christianize Rome. He didn’t try to overthrow monarchies. He worked within civic frameworks, taught obedience to civil authority (Romans 13), and made it very clear that our job is not to make the nations kneel through legislation, but through proclamation.
The Reformed tradition is obsessed with sola Scriptura, sola gratia, and sola fide—not sola political control.
Martin Luther said it best: “Let the magistrate do his job, and the preacher do his.” When the state starts preaching, and the church starts prosecuting, you get disaster. You get crusades. You get inquisitions. You get Wilson's wet dream.
Christ doesn’t need your nationalism. He already has a nation: it's called the Church.
1 Peter 2:9: “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession…”
Notice what that says? A holy nation. That’s not America. That’s the redeemed people of God. We’re citizens of heaven (Philippians 3:20). We live here—but we’re not from here.
To confuse your earthly nation with God’s eternal kingdom is to commit theological treason. Jesus doesn’t need your vote. He’s not trying to win an election. He already reigns.
So let’s get out of the business of using Christ as a political mascot, and get back to our job: preach the gospel, disciple the nations, and wait eagerly—not for midterms—but for the return of the King.
How Christian Nationalism Muzzles the Church and Makes Disciples of Caesar
You know what happens when the church gets too cozy with the state? It forgets how to be the church.
Christian nationalism doesn’t just distort our doctrine—it compromises our witness. It takes the sharp edge of the gospel and files it down until it fits nicely into a political platform. Instead of making disciples of Christ, we start making disciples of Caesar—people who care more about party loyalty than personal holiness.
And let me tell you something: Jesus isn’t a Republican. He isn’t a Democrat. He’s not here to endorse your party; He’s here to overthrow your idols. And if your idol is a politician who waves a Bible while passing policies that spit in the face of justice, mercy, and truth—yeah, He’s coming for that.
The moment the church starts acting like a political action committee, it stops being salt and light. Instead of calling sinners to repentance, we call them to vote red. Instead of confronting injustice, we make excuses for it because “our guy is in office.”
Paul told Timothy to preach the word “in season and out of season” (2 Tim. 4:2). Not just when it polls well. Not just when it aligns with our party’s platform. If we muzzle our pulpits because we're afraid of offending the base, we are no longer ambassadors of Christ—we’re just lobbyists in church clothes.
The early church didn’t need political power to change the world. They had the gospel, the Spirit, and a willingness to die. What do we have? A PAC and a playlist.
The church doesn’t need a seat at the table. We already sit with Christ in heavenly places (Eph. 2:6). What we need is courage. What we need is conviction. What we need is to remember that the power of God is in the message of the cross—not in the mouth of a politician.
Jesus Is Not a Mascot – Why We Must Tear Down the Red, White, and Faux-Theological Idol
Let’s stop pretending Jesus is here to endorse our patriotism. He’s not your mascot. He’s not a brand ambassador for conservative values or progressive utopias. He is the Lord of glory, and dragging His name into your political slogans is nothing short of blasphemy.
Jesus didn’t die to protect the Constitution. He died to fulfill the covenant of grace. He didn’t hang on a Roman cross to give you the right to shout bumper-sticker theology at school board meetings. He came to bring dead hearts to life.
When we make Jesus the face of our political movement, we reduce the Lion of Judah to a lapdog for the culture wars. We trade the eternal gospel for short-term policy wins. We confuse moralism with regeneration.
You know what the church needs? Less nationalism, more repentance. Less crusader cosplay, more cross-carrying. Less America-first theology, more kingdom-first humility.
The red, white, and blue is not holy. The cross is. And if we’re serious about following Christ, we better be ready to lay down every idol—including the ones wrapped in the American flag.
You want revival? It’s not coming through Washington. It’s coming through repentance. Through pulpits that preach Christ crucified. Through hearts set on fire by the Spirit, not by Fox News segments.
Let’s tear down this idol. Let’s smash the golden calf of Christian nationalism with the hammer of Scripture and the fire of the gospel.
Because the gospel isn’t about reclaiming a nation. It’s about proclaiming a Kingdom.
And His name isn’t America. It’s Jesus.
Thanks for reading.
