When Evangelical Activism Turns Political
The current entanglement of Christianity and politics in the United States reveals how evangelical activism’s historic impulse toward cultural engagement has, in some circles, been reshaped into the ideology of Christian nationalism. Before beginning this writing, I tried to recall moments when I first became aware of the intersection between Christian faith and political engagement. Aside from the Dole–Kemp and later Bush–Cheney bumper stickers on my parents’ car, such connections were not a significant part of my early awareness.
One Sunday after church, however, stands out vividly in my memory. After the service, congregants were encouraged to sign a petition related to California’s Proposition 8[1]. At the time, I did not fully grasp the details of what it represented. Looking back, I cringe a bit—not necessarily because of the stance itself, but because I added my name without truly understanding the issue. I remember feeling uneasy as the congregation moved toward the tables in the foyer to sign, yet also sensing that I was participating in something meaningful—an expression of faith in action. Although the exact sequence of events is fuzzy, I also recall a church-hosted debate on same-sex marriage and what such legalization would mean constitutionally—questions surrounding how marriage should be defined and protected under state law. There were also citywide Christian prayer gatherings focused on upcoming elections and other similar moments, each embraced as an expression of faith in action.
This idea of faith in action traces back to what David Bebbington described as “a quadrilateral of priorities that is the basis of Evangelicalism.”[2] Among the four defining characteristics he identifies, activism stands out—the outward expression of the gospel through intentional effort and engagement with the world.[3] During the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, Bebbington notes, evangelical activism profoundly shaped British society. Its moral and spiritual vitality extended beyond the church, influencing social reform, politics, and even intellectual life. Its impact crossed social boundaries, as evangelicalism’s success in establishing new moral expectations and shaping the moral tone of the nation.[4] With Bebbington’s quadrilateral in mind, I see echoes of this same dynamic unfolding in the United States today. Yet I am increasingly concerned about what motivates such activism—whether it stems from a sincere desire to live out the gospel or from the pull of political identity.
In examining the relationship between Christianity and political life, N. T. Wright and Michael Bird observe that the establishment of a Christian political order was never the Church’s original purpose; rather, Christendom emerged as a byproduct of the Church’s success in proclaiming God’s kingdom.[5] In other words, political influence was not the goal of the gospel but an unintended consequence of its cultural and historical reach. This distinction matters because it challenges contemporary movements that equate spiritual faithfulness with political dominance.
Timothy Keller echoes this caution, reminding readers that Christians do not constitute a theocratic nation but a global community living under diverse governments—authorities to be respected, though never granted absolute allegiance.[6] For Keller, the mission of the Church is not to reconstruct Israel’s social or legal structures but to embody gospel principles within diverse cultural contexts. While Old Testament laws of justice provide enduring moral insight, he notes they were designed for a covenant people within a theocratic state, not for direct application to pluralistic societies today.[7]
I have wrestled deeply with whether the American Church today has lost sight of the gospel’s true mission—a tension that raises a sobering question: have we mistaken political dominance for spiritual faithfulness?
One moment that still unsettles me occurred during Donald Trump’s first inauguration, when Franklin Graham declared that the rain beginning as Trump took the oath of office was a sign of divine blessing. Graham said, “Mr. President, in the Bible, rain is a sign of God’s blessing. And it started to rain, Mr. President, when you came to the platform.”[8] To me, that moment revealed the danger of blurring the line between political power and divine favor—the subtle but serious shift from proclaiming Christ as Lord to ascribing sacred meaning to a political leader. This same tendency resurfaced after the more recent attempt on Trump’s life, when some compared the blood on his ear to that of Aaron’s consecration in the Old Testament (Exod. 29:20; Lev. 8:23–24).
Together, Wright, Bird, and Keller call for discernment—Christian faith inevitably shapes public life, but its ultimate allegiance remains to the kingdom of God rather than to any earthly system of power. Yet much of what fuels the rise of Christian nationalism appears to be less about faith and more about fear—fear of cultural loss, moral decline, or the erosion of religious influence. This, I believe, is where the distortion of evangelical activism becomes most visible. Russell Moore warns that “Christian nationalism cannot turn back secularism, because it is just another form of it. In fact, it is an even more virulent form of secularism because it pronounces as ‘Christian’ what cannot stand before the Judgment Seat of Christ. Christian nationalism cannot save the world; it cannot even save you.”[9] At its core, Moore argues, such movements are sustained by fear rather than transformed by faith. He continues, “The first step to becoming a people of truth is to recognize what makes us afraid, and to ask why and who benefits from that fear.”[10]
In Scripture, fear and faith often stand side by side. I think of the moment when the disciples panicked in the storm on the Sea of Galilee, and Jesus looked at them and asked, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” (Matt. 8:26). His question remains as relevant now as it was then. Fear has a way of clouding faith—of making us grasp for control instead of trusting God’s sovereignty. Wright and Bird write, “If our hope is in God and God’s kingdom to be on earth as it is in heaven, then we are called to be disciples with a theo-political vision of the gospel, not advocates for a theocratic regime, nor withdrawn to the safety of our cloistered compound.”[11]
Russell Moore offers a striking reflection on the Church today: “The problem now is not that people think the church’s way of life is too demanding, too morally rigorous, but that they have come to think the church doesn’t believe its own moral teachings.”[12] His insight names a reality many of us sense but struggle to articulate. When our activism loses its grounding in faith and becomes driven by fear, we risk becoming a Church more concerned with preserving power than living under the reign of Jesus as King.
Maybe what’s needed most is a recovery of balance within Bebbington’s quadrilateral. Activism on its own can easily drift off course, but when it’s held together with Scripture, centered on the cross, and lived out through transformed hearts, it finds its right place. We need both courage and humility—truth and grace. We don’t have to be afraid. Our calling isn’t to control outcomes but to stay faithful, to live what we believe, and to trust that God’s kingdom will hold, even when everything else feels unsteady.
[1] California’s Proposition 8 was a 2008 ballot initiative that sought to amend the state constitution to define marriage exclusively as a union between one man and one woman. It was introduced in response to a California Supreme Court decision earlier that year that had legalized same-sex marriage. Voters approved the measure by a narrow margin, effectively banning same-sex marriage in the state. The amendment sparked widespread debate over civil rights, religion, and the role of voter initiatives in shaping constitutional law. After several years of legal challenges, federal courts ruled Proposition 8 unconstitutional, and same-sex marriage was reinstated in California in 2013.
[2] David W. Bebbington, Evangelicalism in Modern Britain: A History from the 1730s to the 1980s (New York: Taylor & Francis, 1989), 2, Kindle edition..
[3] Bebbington, Evangelicalism in Modern Britain, 3, Kindle edition.
[4] Bebbington, Evangelicalism in Modern Britain, 149, Kindle edition.
[5] 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, 2024), 30–31, Kindle edition.
[6] Timothy Keller, Generous Justice: How God’s Grace Maes Us Just (New York: Penguin Publishing Group, 2010), 21, Kindle edition.
[7] Keller, Generous Justice, 23, Kindle edition.
[8] Tim Funk, “In Prayer, Franklin Graham Sees Rain at Inauguration as Good Omen for Trump,” The Charlotte Observer, January 21, 2017, https://www.charlotteobserver.com/living/religion/article127687134.html
[9] Russell D. Moore, Losing Our Religion: An Altar Call for Evangelical America (New York: Penguin Publishing Group, 2023), 120, Kindle edition.
[10] Moore, Losing Our Religion, 84, Kindle edition.
[11] Wright and Bird, Jesus and the Powers, 174, Kindle edition.
[12] Moore, Losing Our Religion, 44, Kindle edition.
About the Author
Elysse Burns
12 responses to “When Evangelical Activism Turns Political”
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Elysse,
I remember Prop 8. I’ve also mindlessly supported things that I wish I had looked into more, just to be more informed and not caught up in the fear tactics being used. I thought your comments on Trump were interesting. I’ve heard people refer to Trump as Cyrus during his first presidency and saw a billboard after the current peace agreement in Israel that had his face on it and said Thanks Cyrus.
I also like your comments about fear and faith. I have to remind myself sometimes daily that God’s got this.
I know that you are not in the US, but as you speak of Activism held together with scripture, what is one thing that you believe needs advocacy with Scripture in the US today?
Hey Jeff,
I’ve been spending time in the Gospels lately, and I’m continually struck by how Jesus brings such holistic healing—He cares for people’s bodies, minds, and hearts. In contrast, so much of what we see today feels like a search for quick fixes, like trying to place bandages over deep wounds. With all we’ve studied in this program, it’s clear that true transformation takes time, presence, and depth.
I believe Scripture calls us to that same kind of healing—to move beyond surface solutions and address the roots of pain and division. That’s what Jesus modeled. The question for us is: how do we get to the root of the problem rather than just chasing the symptoms?
Hi Dr. Elysse,
How can believers discern when their political aspirations begin to overshadow their allegiance to Christ?
Hey Sullivan,
That’s a great question—and one I think every believer has to wrestle with at some point. For me, a good place to start is by paying attention to what’s driving me. Am I more energized by defending a political position than by showing the character of Christ? Do my words bring peace or just add to the noise?
I try to ask myself questions like: “What in my response is bringing life to this situation?” or “Am I still seeing people as image-bearers, or just as opponents?” Sometimes the answer is uncomfortable. Political engagement isn’t wrong—in fact, it can be an important way to live out our faith—but it gets tricky when our hope starts leaning more on policies or leaders than on God’s kingdom itself.
I think discernment often shows up in our posture. If I notice that my political passion is stirring frustration, pride, or fear more than humility or compassion, it’s usually a sign I need to step back and re-center on Christ.
Elysse, What are some of the ways you’ve seen Christian nationalism and/or activism affect the work of expats in our host country?
Hey Kari,
Thank you for your question. I think Christian nationalism can show up in subtle ways, even outside the U.S.—for instance, through a sense of ethnocentrism among some expats living in our country. It’s not entirely new, but it does reveal how easily cultural identity can blend with religious identity. Alongside that, we’ve also seen how the protectionist policies of the Trump administration affected development work, particularly through cuts or restrictions to programs like USAID that fund projects in places such as ours.
Hey Elyssse, I love this quote and question. I have wrestled deeply with whether the American Church today has lost sight of the gospel’s true mission—a tension that raises a sobering question: have we mistaken political dominance for spiritual faithfulness?
I honestly think we have. Are you optimistic that spiritual faithfulness will return or will this just remain a potential wicked problem?
Hey Daren,
Thanks for your great question. I do think this will always remain a wicked problem, but I’m hopeful. More leaders seem to be having honest conversations about what it means to put God’s kingdom first rather than political loyalty.
I see this happening in small but meaningful ways, where people are asking, “What does faithfulness look like here?” instead of, “Which side am I on?” That gives me hope. It feels like more of us are realizing that real transformation doesn’t come from political alignment but from living out humility, compassion, and integrity wherever we are.
Hi Elysse, thanks for sharing that you signed Proposition 8 without being fully informed. I have done such things as well. As you look back on that, how do you balance the need to be well-informed, while not allowing politics to rule your life or become an idol?
Hey Christy,
On a practical level, I try to stay grounded by keeping a healthy rhythm of Scripture reading, reflection, and listening prayer—and by letting those practices shape me more than the media I take in. This is where I’m currently navigating things, trying to keep a sense of balance and perspective. I’ve also learned that, at this point in my life, I prefer to step back from overtly political activities within the church, like signing petitions after a service. It helps me stay focused on faith and community rather than partisanship.
Hi, Elysse, thank you for your post it is informative and inspiring. I like how you encouraged activism, but it must be ‘held together with scriptures, centered on the cross and lived through transformed lives.” Since I am not well-informed of Christian Nationalism and the church in the U.S., I am assuming that this is part of what is going on in Christian Nationalism. Would this be an accurate assumption? Thanks again, Dr. Burns.
Hey Noel,
You’re not just assuming correctly; you’re actually right on point. That’s a fair and accurate observation.