A glimpse inside the threat of Christian nationalism

Attending a worship service at a Christian nationalist church makes clear the threat of this mutant strain of religion to the church, Republican Party and the nation

As regular readers of my columns know, I have significant disagreements with both major political parties. My reservations with the Democratic Party, of which I’m currently a member, are varied. No single issue stands out, though in general the party is at least a little left of me on most issues.

But my disenchantment with the Republican Party, to which I’ve belonged most of my voting life, does revolve around a single issue: the party’s embrace of Christian nationalism. My discomfort with the strong overlap between the Republican Party, as remodeled under Donald Trump, and this fundamentalist strain of religion covers several fronts:

·      Christian nationalism is not democratic. It assumes divine authority to enact policies even if the majority of voters disagree with those policies.

·      Christian nationalism is not Scriptural. My opposition to Christian nationalism does not come from a position of opposition to religion. In fact, I’m a born-again Christian (I prefer that older term to the newer, politicalized description of evangelical) who is active in a church that would be classified as conservative by just about anyone except Christian nationalists or hard-core fundamentalists. I’m as concerned about the negative effects of Christian nationalism on the church as I am about its effects on the country.

·      Having one of the country’s two major parties held hostage by Christian nationalists all but eliminates the possibility of compromise on many issues.

Though the threat of Christian nationalism has concerned me since the emergence of Donald Trump as a political force, and especially since Jan. 6, 2021, that concern was elevated recently when for the first time I found myself in a Christian nationalist worship service – by accident.

My wife and I were driving to Denver to visit our son. We spent Saturday night in Grand Junction, Colorado, and our son was going to be busy until mid-afternoon, so we decide to attend an early worship service before driving to Denver. Mostly, I looked for a church close to our hotel and not far off the freeway, but I did eliminate one possibility because its website strongly hinted at Christian nationalist beliefs. The church we chose looked like a normal non-denominational evangelical church – until the pastor started his sermon.

Sitting in that service, I saw the religious malpractice that provided the foundation for the Jan. 6, 2021, insurrection and continues to motivate many of the most vocal and energetic Republicans. The pastor only made reference to a couple Bible verses, and only as an aside without reading them or putting them in context. However, he referred to demons or demonic forces at least a dozen times, almost always in reference to secular culture. The only time that the congregation clapped was after negative comments about the “woke” or those with non-traditional views of sex or gender.

Before Donald Trump harnessed this fervor into a political weapon, I would have largely written off the experience. If you believe in freedom of religion, it’s incumbent to allow those with beliefs different from yours the same freedom you want for yourself. But the unique danger from Christian nationalists is their desire for the ability to force others to practice their set of beliefs.

Changing opinions in this context will be very difficult. Critics, even those like me who are active in other churches, are simply labeled as non-believers. Those who live contrary to their moral code – and especially politicians with opposing views – are described as demons. The churches create a community of people who share the same views and support each other. They consume conservative news sources and leave the echo chamber as rarely as possible.

These views aren’t going away easily even when Donald Trump exits the stage. Trump’s most viable Republican rival, Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis, has fully embraced the culture war. While he probably would be a less dangerous president because he’s a more stable personality less likely to start World War III, he might be even more divisive.

While there are strong partisan divides on many issues in this country, none are likely to be bridged until the Republican Party disassociates itself from their most conservative, non-compromising wing – Christian nationalists.  A minority of elected Republicans share these views. Nationalists probably aren’t even the biggest plurality in the Republican caucus. But few are willing to stand up to them because they fear losing elections.

Where does that leave me? I’ll stick with a party that I frequently disagree with but whose mistakes most often fall under the category of “good intentions gone awry.” In primaries, I’ll vote for moderate candidates who rarely win. And in general elections, I’ll often vote for third-party candidates or write in someone’s name.

I’ll also try to model religious practices that I believe reflect Jesus and the Bible. As I noted earlier, I believe Christian nationalist religion also is very damaging to the church. Beyond the obvious antagonism that Christian nationalism sows with those who hold different beliefs, including different Christian beliefs, forced religion is the opposite of the faith that is supposed to be the core of Christianity – and especially evangelical Christianity.

While only a few Republicans have stood up to the party’s Christian nationalist base, there are a growing number of evangelical leaders taking stands against this dangerous thread of religion. They include Russell Moore, former president of the Southern Baptist Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission and current editor in chief at Christianity Today; Ed Stetzer, executive director of the Wheaton College Billy Graham Center; New York City pastor and author Tim Keller, speaker and author Beth Moore and other less well-known religious leaders.

If the Republican Party won’t distance itself from distorted, dangerous religion, maybe these Godly men and others can fix the church from within and extract it from partisan politics.

Mark Hester is a retired journalist who worked at The Oregonian for 20 years in positions including business editor, sports editor and editorial writer.