What, to the Christian, is the Fourth of July?

Or, Why I Joined Christians Against Christian Nationalism

Monday’s newsletter about the Ten Commandments and requiring the Bible in classrooms was something of a preface to this post. It explored the question of the relationship between conservative Christian commitments and the broader pluralistic culture. Today, as we celebrate Independence Day (not the movie), it seemed good to dig into the topic a little deeper.

My title today is a play on Frederick Douglass’s 1852 speech, “What, to the slave, is the fourth of July?”¹

At the very moment that [Christians] are thanking God for the enjoyment of civil and religious liberty, and for the right to worship God according to the dictates of their own consciences, they are utterly silent in respect to a law which robs religion of its chief significance, and makes it utterly worthless to a world lying in wickedness. Did this law concern the “mint, anise and cummin,”—abridge the right to sing psalms, to partake of the sacrament, or to engage in any of the ceremonies of religion, it would be smitten by the thunder of a thousand pulpits. A general shout would go up from the church, demanding repeal, repeal, instant repeal! And it would go hard with that politician who presumed to solicit the votes of the people without inscribing this motto on his banner. Further, if this demand were not complied with, another Scotland would be added to the history of religious liberty, and the stern old covenanters would be thrown into the shade. A John Knox would be seen at every church door, and heard from every pulpit, and Fillmore would have no more quarter than was shown by Knox, to the beautiful, but treacherous Queen Mary of Scotland. The fact that the church of our country, (with fractional exceptions,) does not esteem “the Fugitive Slave Law” as a declaration of war against religious liberty, implies that that church regards religion simply as a form of worship, an empty ceremony, and not a vital principle, requiring active benevolence, justice, love and good will towards man. It esteems sacrifice above mercy; psalm-singing above right doing; solemn meetings above practical righteousness. A worship that can be conducted by persons who refuse to give shelter to the houseless, to give bread to the hungry, clothing to the naked, and who enjoin obedience to a law forbidding these acts of mercy, is a curse, not a blessing to mankind. The Bible addresses all such persons as “scribes, pharisees, hypocrites, who pay tithe of mint, anise, and cumin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy and faith.”

I am currently six chapters into James Davison Hunter’s newest book, Democracy and Solidarity. He argues that America was founded on what he calls a “hybrid-enlightenment” — a blend of religious sentiment expressed in broad providential terms and the secular notions of individualism and rationality. The former is present among the founders and is then elevated during the revivalism of the Second Great Awakening. And yet, like Douglass, he ponders how the individualistic freedom claims of the Declaration could ever be reconciled with the treatment of Native Americans, Enslaved Blacks, or Religious Minorities.

The most famous words of the American founding read:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men 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.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.²

I find it noteworthy that we rarely quote the rest of the Declaration that forms the bill of particulars against the government of George III.³ As a country founded on a list of wrongs done in the past, it’s remarkable that conservatives now want to whitewash the negative parts of our history.

In the chapter I just finished, Hunter argues that the Civil War broke the religious components of his hybrid enlightenment. This happened as both sides in the war, as well as abolitionists and anti-abolitionists, were claiming the authority of scripture to justify their position. Hunter writes:

By taking sides so prominently in the war and having intensified the moral stakes of the conflict, biblical faith, in effect, had discredited itself as a source for interpreting and directing policy matters and directly influencing public life. And not only this: along with the collapse of Christianity’s moral authority and the confidence in its assumptions came a diminution of Christianity as a credible source of knowledge, ethics, and collective moral purpose for the nation. (140, italics in original)

Today’s Christian Nationalism ignores this complicated history and attempts to return to a 19th century understanding of a faith-politics linkage. One sees it in the work of revisionist folks like David Barton or Dennis Praeger and certainly in that segment that proudly embraces a Christian Nationalist identity like Stephen Wolfe, or Doug Wilson. That rhetoric is clearly evident in the Heritage Foundation’s “Project 2025” that lays a blueprint for a second Trump administration.

I’ve been following the scholarly investigations of Christian Nationalism since before Andrew Whitehead and Sam Perry wrote Taking America Back for God. RNS’s Jack Jenkins has long covered the topic. Tim Alberta’s The Kingdom and the Glory explores how this develops in local congregations. Andrew Whitehead’s American Idolatry (which just won a Midwest Book Award!) unpacks the dangers of Christian Nationalism. PRRI did a large study of Christian Nationalism last year.

There are a number of other books that are out that I haven’t made it to yet: Phil Gorski and Sam Perry’s The Flag and the Cross and Brad Onishi’s Preparing for War. Yesterday I listened to a webinar that Robbie Jones conducted with the Brian Kaylor and Beau Underwood, authors of Baptizing America that outlines the ways that the mainline church in its heyday laid the groundwork for our current Christian Nationalist resurgence. I’m eagerly awaiting Matthew Taylor’s The Violent Take It by Force that comes out in September.

The central impulse of Christian Nationalism, according to all this research, is to hold on to “what’s ours”. The survey data finds that adherents not only believe in a Christian founding but believe that Christians (i.e., the right kind of conservatives) should be shaping government policy. That the Bible should dictate our laws and that those of minority religions (or Nones) should have to accommodate those Christian views.

I joined the Facebook group Christians Against Christian Nationalism initially because my friend Guthrie Graves-Fitzimmons asked me to⁴. Guthrie is the comms director for the group, which is affilaited with the Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty. I also joined because it’s critically important for Christians to engage in advocacy to make clear that Christian Nationalists aren’t in the majority.

Both Whitehead and Perry and the PRRI survey show divide their sample into four groups. I like Andrew and Sam’s labels: Ambassadors, Accommodators, Resisters, and Rejectors. The view of the first group is to push back on social change, especially an increasingly pluralistic society. Their response to demographic diversity, splintering of social opinions, and the ongoing decline in the numbers of White Christian in America, is to grab whatever levers of power they can to insure their ongoing sense of control.

I have been thinking a lot lately about how best to engage in advocacy given all of what we see around us. I’ll have more on this tomorrow. For now, I want to do what I can to encourage Accommodators to move toward Resisters and Resisters toward being Rejectors.

Those words in the Declaration of Independence do mention “endowed by their Creator”. But its a mistake to put all the emphasis on that phrase. The rest of that quote speaks to the inherent dignity and freedom of all Americans, Christian or not. Government depends on their consent was well. That’s what it means to “mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.”

While thinking about this post last night, I saw on social media that Christianity Today had a piece titled “Theocracy is not the Enemy of Pluralism”. I was almost afraid to click on the link. When I did, I was surprised to see that it was written by Richard Mouw, president emeritus from Fuller Seminary and someone I highly respect.

Thankfully, Mouw’s argument is that theocracy is what we are celebrating in the church every Sunday. He writes:

I do not serve God’s purposes in the world by trying to impose “Christian” laws on people against their own values and convictions. I should not want everything that I consider to be sinful to be made illegal. For example, although I don’t like the blasphemous language that I hear all too frequently while watching Netflix these days, I am not inclined to call for laws banning these expressions.

While I’d love to know what Richard has been watching, his major point is that pluralism should be protected. We can bring our Christian values alongside the views of those whose values and convictions may be secular or Buddhist.

We aren’t celebrating an imagined Christian founding when we celebrate July 4th. We aren’t looking for our view to be dominant. We are celebrating that first step toward creating a new form of democratic republic that affirms our commitments to one another as the basis for good governance.

I’m reminded of this hymn set to the tune of Sibelius’s Finlandia. Called simply, This is My Song, it affirms our national identity with grace toward others.

This is my song O God of all the nations/A song of peace for lands afar and mine/This is my home the country where my heart is/Here are my hopes my dreams my holy shrine/But other hearts in other lands are beating/With hopes and dreams as true and high as mine

My country's skies are bluer than the ocean/And sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine/But other lands have sunlight too and clover/And skies are everywhere as blue as mine/O hear my song Thou God of all nations/A song of peace for their land and for mine

This is my prayer O Lord of all earth's kingdoms/Thy kingdom come on earth Thy will be done/Let Christ be lifted up till all shall serve Him/And hearts united learn to live as one/O hear my prayer Thou God of all nations/Myself I give Thee let Thy will be done

So celebrate. Watch fireworks. Have a hot dog. As you do, remember that we’re all in this together.

1. On his SubStack this morning, Jemar Tisby shared a teach-in he did about the speech two years ago.

2. In included the full sentence (I don’t think that period after the first Happiness is supposed to be there!).

3. I have certainly enjoyed all of the Jonathan Graff “You’ll be Back” memes since Monday’s SCOTUS decision on immunity.

4. You could also check out Napp Nazworth’s American Values Coalition.