Losing Our Religion: Recovering a Kingdom Imagination in a Polarized Age
I. Introduction
I was raised to believe that faith and politics should never mix. Yet as the public witness of Christianity in America has become increasingly defined by partisanship, I can no longer separate the two so neatly. Losing Our Religion, written by Russell Moore, exposes how the church’s pursuit of power has often displaced its pursuit of truth (“the church doesn’t believe its own moral teachings”) (1), while Jesus and the Powers, by N.T. Wright and Michael Bird, reminds us that the gospel is not an ideology but an invitation to share in Christ’s reign—a partnership, not a project we control. (2)
Politics and government are necessary in a fallen world, but they are poor substitutes for God’s Kingdom. The Christian call is to reflect the life of the world to come. My own journey from apolitical upbringing to engaged but wary participation mirrors this tension: how to live as a citizen of heaven while standing, faithfully, on earthly ground.
II. Formation and Early Faith
I grew up in northern New Jersey, in a comfortable suburb of New York City, surrounded by church, family, and music. Faith was woven into daily life—saying grace at meals, attending church every Sunday, watching my father write the weekly check for the offering. My parents modeled a quiet, generous discipleship marked by radical hospitality: from the time I was eight until I left for college, our home welcomed more than two dozen foster infants and several exchange students.
Politics, however, were absent from the conversation. My parents quietly canceled out each other’s votes, and our Presbyterian church focused on fellowship rather than activism. The word evangelical barely entered my vocabulary until the scandals of the televangelists in the 1970s and ’80s made it sound suspect. Later, when the Moral Majority began merging religion and political identity, I sensed something was wrong. Faith, I believed, was about relationship—with God, others, and creation—not about power or partisanship. That conviction would be tested as I grew older and watched the meaning of “Christian” itself begin to shift.
III. Christian Nationalism and the Crisis of Evangelical Identity
As I began paying closer attention to national politics, I watched the line between Christian conviction and partisan loyalty blur beyond recognition. I was deeply uneasy with George W. Bush’s presidency—his faith-infused rhetoric seemed sincere, yet his policies often favored corporations over communities, leaving many rural and working-class Americans behind.
Barack Obama’s election briefly rekindled hope for moral leadership and civic repair, but Congressional obstruction prevented much of what he wanted to accomplish. Obstructionism hardened into a permanent strategy, beginning with Newt Gingrich’s combative Congress and intensifying under Mitch McConnell’s refusal to negotiate or collaborate. By the time Donald Trump entered the scene, polarization had become a way of life—and, for many evangelicals, a test of faith itself.
As Losing Our Religion notes, people are leaving churches not because they reject Christ but because they no longer believe the church practices what it preaches. (3) When Christian symbols are used to secure national or ethnic power (4), faith becomes an idol masquerading as orthodoxy. The result is what Kierkegaard warned against—a paganism that thinks it is Christian (5). Authentic discipleship looks like Jesus: humble, truthful, and willing to serve rather than dominate. Anything less is ideology dressed in religious language.
IV. Progressive Captivity and Post-Church Ideologies
If Christian nationalism tempts believers on the right, progressive movements pose subtler temptations on the left. Many who leave conservative churches—understandably wounded by hypocrisy or exclusion—seek justice and belonging elsewhere, yet often re-create the same dynamics of moral certainty and shame they fled. Disillusioned “exvangelicals” frequently replace church with online communities that reward outrage more than repentance. In these spaces, the language of “inclusion” and “progress” can become its own orthodoxy, where cultural sympathies replace communion with Christ.
Jesus and the Powers reminds us that the kingdom cannot be built by ideology, whether conservative or progressive (6). Political causes may echo gospel concerns, but without continual conversion of the heart, even good intentions become cemented as self-righteousness. Faithful public witness must keep turning toward God for renewal, so we don’t mirror the very power structures we critique. The way of Jesus remains distinct—rooted in humility, compassion, and truth.
V. Leadership in an Age of Polarization and Idolatry
In such a divided landscape, Christian leaders face the task of shepherding communities shaped more by cable news and algorithms than by Scripture. Jesus and the Powers portrays Christ’s rule not as domination but as self-giving partnership (7); leaders therefore embody resistance to coercive power by practicing cruciform love.
Family-systems theory adds that anxious systems breed reactivity—leaders who mirror that anxiety only deepen the spiral. The call is to become what Edwin Friedman calls a “non-anxious presence”(8): calm, differentiated, and, I would add, deeply rooted in Christ. Moral authority cannot be reclaimed through louder certainty but through integrity, humility, and truth-telling.
Faithful leaders teach their people to discern the difference between gospel conviction and ideological reactivity. Such leadership—undefended, courageous, and compassionate—invites the church to recover its vocation as a community of grace rather than a campaign for power.
VI. Holiness, Happiness, and True Flourishing
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men [and women] are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”
— The Declaration of Independence
What, exactly, is this happiness we are all pursuing? The human longing for happiness, so deeply woven into the American story, points toward something truer and more enduring: the longing for holiness. According to research from the Harvard Human Flourishing Project, happiness and life satisfaction are only one dimension of genuine well-being. The Light University Human Flourishing course explains that “the missing link on the pathway to flourishing is holiness.… If the purpose of life is communion with God, then the true end is not bare happiness or even health, but a life set apart to God in thought, word, and deed.”(9)
If we truly desire to flourish, we must seek friendship with God through holiness—loving God and neighbor as Jesus commanded. “Seek first the kingdom of God,” he said, “and all these other things will be given to you.” When people and churches forget this, we begin to worship power rather than God. We become functional atheists—acting as if everything depends on us rather than on God. Our nation’s polarization is, at its root, a holiness problem: we chase the illusion of self-made happiness instead of participating in the transforming love that alone makes life whole.
VII. What I Believe Now and Why
I once believed that faith and politics should stay separate. Now I believe that while politics cannot save us, faith must shape how we live within it, as it shapes us everywhere we show up. The Kingdom of God is not an ideology to advance but a reality to embody—one that exposes both right- and left-handed idolatries. Jesus and the Powers reminds me that we do not work for the Kingdom as though it depended on us; we participate with Christ as he renews all things. In a culture addicted to winning and being top dog, I am learning that the most radical political act is to love my neighbor and tell the truth. As Peter writes in 1 Peter 5:6-10,
Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings.
And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.
We are called to both humility and steadfast resistance against evil, just like Jesus. By the grace of God, we will grow more and more like Him.
- Russell Moore, Losing Our Religion: An Altar Call for Evangelical America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2024), 44.
- N. T. Wright and Michael F. Bird, Jesus and the Powers: Christian Political Witness in an Age of Totalitarian Terror and Dysfunctional Democracies (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Reflective, 2023), 43.
- Moore, Losing Our Religion, 44.
- Ibid., 113–14.
- Søren Kierkegaard, quoted in Moore, Losing Our Religion, 53.
- Wright and Bird, Jesus and the Powers, 79–81.
- Ibid., 174-175.
- Edwin H. Friedman, A Failure of Nerve: Leadership in the Age of the Quick Fix, 10th Anniv. ed. (New York: Church Publishing, 2017), 214-215.
- Light University, Human Flourishing Course (Forest, VA: Light University, 2024).
About the Author
Debbie Owen
Deborah C. Owen is an experienced spiritual director, Neuro-based Enneagram executive and life coach, disciple maker, professional writer, senior librarian, and long-time church Music Director and lay leader. She has earned the award of National Board Certification for teaching excellence, and a podcasting award, and is pursuing a Doctor of Leadership degree through Portland Seminary at George Fox University. She lives in the backwoods of Maine with her husband and flat-coated retriever. She spends as much time as she can with their 3 grown children, daughter-in-law, and 2 small grandchildren. Find her online at InsideOutMinistries.info.6 responses to “Losing Our Religion: Recovering a Kingdom Imagination in a Polarized Age”
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Great post, as always, Debbie. Thanks for your thoughtful and hopeful critique. What advice would you give to someone like me, a local church pastor seeking to bring together people from different political viewpoints and be rooted in the reality of the Crucified Christ?
Ryan, this is the difficult question of the day, isn’t it? The core challenge is not to get people to agree politically, but to help them find their primary identity in Christ, and to view all their interactions and choices from a set of Kingdom values.
Here’s one thing you can try. As I noted in Section V, people’s imaginations are shaped by algorithms, not Scripture. You can counter this by making the Gospel itself the explicit lens for every public issue.
Another thing is to teach the Kingdom’s distinctiveness by preaching a sermon series explicitly contrasting the values of the Kingdom of God (humility, self-giving, radical welcome) with the values of the Kingdoms of the World (power, partisanship, winning). Use the Sermon on the Mount as your core text.
You can also reframe conflict. For example, when discussing a divisive public issue (e.g., immigration), don’t ask, “What is the correct policy?” Ask, “What is the cruciform response to our neighbor’s need?” This shifts the discussion from partisan debate to practical discipleship rooted in the Crucified Christ.
Finally, you might find ways for people with different political viewpoints (they don’t have to declare them; you’ll sort of know where people stand) to share in ministry and mission work together, e.g., serving the poor, tutoring local students, disaster relief. The shared act of love becomes the common ground, disarming their political differences.
Debbie,
I appreciate your political timeline from Bush to Trump. I have become so disheartened by politics and power over the years. You wrote “Our nation’s polarization is, at its root, a holiness problem: we chase the illusion of self-made happiness instead of participating in the transforming love that alone makes life whole.” Each side seems to be pursuing what they believe will make them or their constituents happy. How do we (the church) remove the illusion in such a way that it doesn’t appear we are promoting one side over the other? How do we share the love of Christ when one side markets themselves as having Christ’s best interests in mind?
Thanks for your lovely, challenging question Jeff! Lol! I struggle with this a lot because I definitely “lean” in one direction over the other. But if I’m going to use my own frame from this post, I’ll start by acknowledging that you’ve hit on the central problem: every political movement promises a version of ‘happiness’ or ‘flourishing.’
The reason the church appears to promote one side is that we have allowed political narratives and the culture around us to define the terms of well-being. To counter this, we must reclaim the biblical definition of holiness and flourishing (Section VI) and make it the primary measure for every issue.
Holiness is about relationships. It’s wholehearted wholehearted communion with God and neighbor. This is the transforming love that makes life whole. In fact, Richard Foster said “a holy life is a life that works.” Wow! It sounds so simple, doesn’t it? So what is a life that works? It’s not just a happy life.
The illusion is that self-made happiness comes from control (winning elections, enforcing laws). True flourishing (holiness) comes from humility and surrender (“Humble yourselves… cast all your anxiety on him,” 1 Peter 5:6-7, Section VII).
Debbie, great challenge. I might summarize it as restore the ‘polis’ to our politic. The flourishing of the city, or all the people.
This Hour Has 22 Minutes, a Canadian satirical political comedy show, has done a nice parody on the current ICE crackdown, with “N.I.C.E” Agents showing kindness to international tourists coming into Atlantic Canada. I recommend it as a gentle and subtle reinforcement of your post. Thanks for your faithful presence.
Hi Debbie, thanks for your post. Given today’s political climate in the US, it’s hard for me to imagine a quiet apolitical upbringing in suburban New Jersey.
Has your home community been swept away like much of America, of have they been able to maintain a healthy balance between engagement in politics and allegiance to Christ the king?