In God we trust?

In God we trust” is the official motto of the United States of America. That might seem surprising given this nation’s determination to preserve a separation of religion and authority since its inception. However, during the American Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln’s government determined to place in the hands of every citizen a reminder of the country’s deep relationship with the Christian faith.

In 1864, in response to the appeals of many religious leaders, the motto was literally coined for the new two-cent piece. Since then, it has appeared in numerous government contexts. During a recent work trip to the US, I even saw it stamped on number plates. Yet at the same time, secular pressure groups were travelling across the country in their quest to remove any connection between church and state, including its coinage. “In God we trust” now exists as a reminder of the uneasy relationship between power, faith and politics. 

This year saw the release of a dystopian film that seems to have more potential for real-world fulfilment than any zombie flick that has come before. Civil War, written and directed by Alex Garland, imagines what would happen if political tensions escalated to the point of plunging the US into internal conflict. In it, a dictatorial president, played by Nick Offerman, declares to the nation that he is prepared to take up arms against his own people as part of his sacred trust “to this land, to this nation and to God”. And in just a few words, he enlists the Almighty as the source of and justification for his actions.

The current United States is clearly not in a state of civil war, however high the tensions rise between Republicans and Democrats. Yet the film hints at the unhealthy relationship that is formed when Christianity aligns itself with political power. Take former president Donald Trump as an example.

the Church of Trump

Trump has enjoyed broad Christian support since the early days of his political career, in particular among American Evangelicals. Bible-believing Christians saw in his candidacy the potential to have their social agendas realised. As a result, pastor after pastor lined up to pray over his campaign and encourage their followers to become his supporters.

The Pew Research Center reported that in 2016, 81 per cent of American Evangelicals voted for Donald Trump as the 45th President of the United States (though the reasons why are complicated). This amounted to the largest evangelical turnout at the polls in 20 years. Four years later, pundits waited to see if the polls would change in light of an impeachment trial, allegations of sexual misconduct and a storm of controversial social media posts. The answer, according to LSE Religion and Global Society research, was a resounding “no”. Exit polls from the 2020 election estimate that anywhere from 76 to 81 per cent of evangelicals voted for President Trump.

Sociologist and lecturer at University College, London, Katie Gaddini says that, “Evangelical approval for Trump remained high throughout his presidency, largely because Trump introduced and upheld the political issues that Evangelicals hold dear.”

In 2016, 81 per cent of American Evangelicals voted for Donald Trump

This association with power has delivered significant gains for American Christianity, to be sure. The Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe v Wade removed a woman’s “right” to abortion, pleasing many Evangelicals. However, it has in other respects become an unholy alliance.

For the sake of political influence, American Christians found themselves embracing a very un-Christian man. And his reciprocal influence over them resulted in ungodly scenes at the Capitol on January 6, 2021. Among the rioters were Evangelical Christians carrying Bibles, placards and pausing for prayer amidst the shambles.

The Washington Post article titled “Some Capitol rioters believed they answered God’s call, not just Trump’s” captures the sense of holy war some Evangelicals thought they were waging. But the results should not surprise us. History is littered with examples of the tragedies that occur when Christianity draws too close to power. 

Christianity, legalised

The Roman Emperor Constantine believed he saw a vision of pure light in the form of a cross with the words, “In this sign conquer” inscribed on it. In his time, Christianity was legalised and received significant financial benefits—but also became complicit in the persecution of the Jews.

Charlemagne, crowned by the Pope as the first “Holy Roman Emperor”, defeated the Saxon tribespeople through war, mass execution and deportation, and assured their conversion by threatening death to anyone who refused to be baptised.

Knights of the First Crusade pierced the walls of Jerusalem and massacred thousands of residents who had taken refuge in the precinct surrounding the Al-Aqsa Mosque, casting many off the walls to their deaths below in what they described as, “a just and splendid judgement of God”.

The Protestant “Wars of Religion”, the Spanish Inquisition and the Irish “Troubles” furnish still more examples of what can happen when Christians seek to forcibly bring about the kingdom of heaven on earth. Commenting on Christianity’s poor record of using political power to oppose dark influences, British theologian NT Wright told the podcast Undeceptions,

The danger is that if we take up the beast’s weapons in order to oppose the beast, we just become bestial ourselves.

a conquest of love?

The potential for misunderstanding the relationship between the church and power has existed at the heart of Christianity since its inception. The Jewish nation into which Jesus was born expected the rise of a messiah who would establish an earthly kingdom that would conquer the nations, beginning with its hated Roman conquerors. That was certainly Pontius Pilate’s view. He had to ask Jesus if He considered Himself a king because His behaviour so little matched those who would be crowned. Even Jesus’ disciples were infected with this idea, expecting that their Master had come to establish a kingdom in which they could expect to sit on His right and left. Yet, Jesus’ idea of the rule He would bring transcended the merely political. It was, as it were, a triumph of the powerless.

From the first to the third centuries, the church of Christ was characterised by both their persecution for being atheists (they denied the existence of any gods but the one true God), and their love for the least fortunate members of society. By the 360s AD, the Christians’ humble service had earned them such high praise that a desperate emperor Julian felt the need to order his pagan priests to begin practising similar virtues or face removal from office. “Why do we not observe,” he wrote, “that it is their [Christians] benevolence to strangers, their care for the graves of the dead and the pretended holiness of their lives that have done most to increase atheism?”

The building of the kingdom of God is not achieved through increased political influence, even when that influence tends towards recognising the claim of God on human lives. Power is not the foundation of Jesus’ throne, but humility. According to author, apologist and historian Professor John Dickson,

Jesus himself gave his followers just four tools to build for the Kingdom and to change the world, the same tools he himself employed: prayer, persuasion, service and suffering. When Christians add “political power” in a manner that relegates or distracts from prayer, persuasion, service and suffering they become sub-Christian.

Should we be surprised? American theologian John MacArthur points to the Beatitudes that begin the Sermon on the Mount and finds in them the constitution for Christ’s kingdom. 

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth,” (Matthew 5:3–5) and so on. Possibly they stand as the best warning for believers who would aim to inherit the earth in any other way. The role of the church is not to wield power but, in humility, to speak truth to power. The moment that we see it as a divine mandate for Christians to take hold of the levers of power, we find ourselves out of step with Jesus. Instead, He calls us to a more strenuous and ultimately more powerful way:

“The greatest among you will be your servant. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted” (Matthew 23:11,12).