The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory

The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory Plot Summary

Introduction

At the heart of American evangelicalism lies a profound crisis of identity. What began as a movement centered on spiritual transformation and gospel witness has increasingly become defined by political tribalism and cultural grievance. This fundamental confusion between heavenly and earthly kingdoms has distorted evangelical priorities, compromised moral witness, and undermined the very gospel message evangelicals claim to uphold. The consequences extend far beyond religious communities to shape American political life and cultural discourse. The confusion between kingdoms manifests in multiple dimensions - theological, ethical, and institutional. Evangelicals have increasingly conflated American national identity with Christian faithfulness, embraced partisan politics at the expense of gospel witness, and sacrificed moral consistency for political expediency. These compromises reflect not merely tactical decisions but a profound misunderstanding of Christian identity and mission. By examining how this kingdom confusion developed and its consequences for evangelical witness, we can better understand both the current crisis and potential paths toward recovery of authentic Christian identity in the public square.

Chapter 1: The Idolatry of Nation: Confusing Earthly and Heavenly Citizenship

At the heart of the crisis facing American evangelicalism lies a fundamental misunderstanding about kingdoms. Many Christians have conflated their earthly citizenship with their heavenly one, creating a dangerous form of idolatry that elevates nation above faith. This confusion is not merely theological but has profound practical implications for how evangelicals engage with politics, culture, and their own spiritual formation. The historical roots of this kingdom confusion can be traced through America's religious development. While many founding fathers were devout Christians who drew revolutionary inspiration from scripture, they wanted nothing to do with theocracy. Many of their families had fled religious persecution in Europe; they knew the threat posed by what George Washington described in 1789 as "the horrors of spiritual tyranny." From skeptics like Benjamin Franklin to committed Christians like John Jay, the founders shared John Adams's view that America was conceived not "under the influence of Heaven" or in conversation with the Creator, but rather by using "reason and the senses." This historical reality stands in stark contrast to the biblical story of Israel. God established Israel through a covenant relationship, creating a chosen nation for chosen people living by chosen laws. After the Jewish people repeatedly strayed from those laws, God allowed the destruction of ancient Israel. Through centuries of exile and oppression, they yearned for a return to this covenant relationship. It was Jesus of Nazareth who came to deliver transformative news: The old kingdom was gone for good. In its place, He promised something better—a kingdom not of this world, and not just for Jews, but for everyone who accepts Jesus as their mediator between God and mankind. For much of American history, white Christians enjoyed power, influence, prosperity, and security. Given that reality—and America's miraculous defeat of Great Britain, rise to superpower status, and legacy of spreading freedom and democracy across the globe—it's easy to see why many evangelicals believe the country is divinely blessed. The problem is, blessings often become indistinguishable from entitlements. Once we become convinced that God has blessed something, that something can become an object of jealousy, obsession—even worship. This is the root of the kingdom confusion: America has become an idol to many evangelicals who believe God is in covenant with the United States as a new Israel. This idolatry manifests in how Christians approach political engagement. When someone's trying to take away something they believe God has given them—like gun rights—the response becomes disproportionate. The Second Amendment becomes more sacred than the Second Commandment, which forbids worship of idols. Christians are clinging to something in America that is a sad parody of what Jesus has already won—a temporal kingdom instead of an eternal one.

Chapter 2: Political Tribalism: Prioritizing Power Over Gospel Witness

Political tribalism has fundamentally altered the nature of evangelical identity in America. What was once a movement defined by theological commitments has transformed into one increasingly characterized by partisan allegiance. This shift represents a profound distortion of priorities that threatens the very essence of Christian witness. The statistical evidence of this transformation is striking. In 2011, only 30 percent of white evangelicals believed a politician who behaved immorally in their personal life could still perform their public duties with integrity. This trend line had been steady since the days of Bill Clinton's impeachment: conservative Christians still believed character was a prerequisite for public office. By October 2016, however, an astonishing 72 percent of white evangelicals responded that a politician who behaved immorally could still perform their duties with integrity. In five years, white evangelicals had gone from registering the lowest rate of support for that idea to registering the highest. This dramatic reversal cannot be explained merely by partisan convenience. Something deeper was at work—a sudden onset of existential dread. During Obama's presidency, many evangelicals marinated in a message of end-times agitation. They became convinced something they loved was soon to be lost. Time was running out to reclaim it. The old rules no longer applied. Desperate times called for desperate—even disgraceful—measures. When asked to explain how millions of evangelicals had so casually discarded the code that guided their political engagement for a generation, one prominent evangelical leader offered two words: "under siege." The siege mentality has proven remarkably effective at mobilizing evangelical voters. Political operatives understand that fear is a powerful motivator for turnout. At political gatherings across the country, Christians are told their children are being groomed, their communities are under invasion, their guns will be confiscated, their medical treatments are suspect, their newspapers are lying to them, their elected officials are diabolical, their government is coming after them, their faith is being banned from public life, and their nation is nearing its end. Most troubling is how political tribalism has corrupted basic Christian ethics. The compartmentalization of standards—accepting behavior in politics that would be condemned in any other area of life—is toxic to the credibility of Christian witness. Many evangelicals have come to view politics the way a suburban husband views Las Vegas—a self-contained escape where the rules and expectations of everyday life do not apply. But what happens in politics doesn't stay in politics. Everyone can see what Christians are doing, and the damage to their witness is incalculable.

Chapter 3: Fear vs. Faith: How Persecution Narratives Drive Extremism

The persecution narrative has become central to the identity of many American evangelicals. Despite enjoying unprecedented religious freedom compared to Christians in other parts of the world, a growing number of American believers have embraced the conviction that they are under systematic attack. This narrative has proven remarkably effective at mobilizing political action while simultaneously undermining authentic Christian witness. In 2017, the Public Religion Research Institute asked Americans which religious group they thought faced more discrimination in the United States, Muslims or Christians. The general public was twice as likely to pick Muslims; non-religious respondents were three times as likely. Both white Catholics and white mainline Protestants agreed, in overwhelming fashion, that Muslims face more discrimination than Christians. Only one group of respondents dissented from this view: white evangelicals. This perception gap reveals a troubling disconnect from reality. The persecution narrative is not merely mistaken; it's dangerous. Once a person becomes convinced they are under siege—that enemies are coming for them and want to destroy their way of life—the path to radicalization becomes alarmingly short. Some evangelical leaders have explicitly drawn parallels between current conditions and Nazi Germany, suggesting that government regulations are merely the first step toward concentration camps. One pastor claimed that persecution against Christians "was always incremental. It started with verbal admonishments, then light scouring, then imprisonment, and then beheading." These comparisons are not only historically inaccurate but theologically problematic. Scripture teaches that persecution is an expected part of the Christian experience, not something to be avoided at all costs. "If the world hates you," Jesus told His disciples, "keep in mind that it hated me first." In His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus went further: "Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Christians volunteered to live in a negative world. The notion that some conjectural bullying of the American Church justifies extreme political measures—while Christians worldwide are being harassed, hunted, and killed for their faith—would be comical if it weren't so calamitous. The early Church provides a striking counterexample to today's fear-driven approach. Despite facing genuine persecution under Roman emperors like Nero, who murdered Christians en masse through beheadings, crucifixions, and death by lion, the early believers were characterized by confidence and joy. They were not performing; they acted out of euphoria rooted in absolute certainty. They had zero doubts that Jesus, the rabbi who'd been publicly executed, was later seen alive, and were so giddy about spreading the news that they couldn't be bothered to care about their circumstances. The way forward requires a fundamental reorientation toward what Jesus actually taught about persecution. Rather than seeing it as something to be feared and fought against through political power, Christians might instead view it as an opportunity to demonstrate the transformative power of the gospel. As one pastor noted, "We should think of ourselves as eager dinner guests at someone else's banquet. We are happy to be there, happy to share our perspective. But we are always respectful, always humble, because this isn't our home."

Chapter 4: The Distorted Witness: Christians Embracing Secular Power

The pursuit of secular power has fundamentally distorted the Christian witness in America. What began as a well-intentioned effort to influence culture for good has devolved into a naked power grab that undermines the very values it claims to protect. This transformation is particularly evident in how evangelical leaders have justified their political alliances. When Donald Trump clinched the GOP presidential nomination in 2016, many Christians were alarmed. The immorality in his personal life aside, Trump had spent his campaign inciting hatred against his critics, hurling vicious ad hominem insults at his opponents, boasting of never having asked God's forgiveness, and generally behaving in ways antithetical to the example of Christ. If Trump possessed any of what Paul dubbed "the fruit of the spirit" (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control), it wasn't hanging low enough to be picked. Rather than acknowledging these shortcomings, evangelical leaders embraced a novel strategy: They celebrated Trump's flaws. At a meeting of more than five hundred prominent Christian conservatives in June 2016 at the Marriott Marquis hotel in New York City, Trump was introduced by religious leaders as the latest in a long tradition of flawed men being used by God to advance His purposes. The blueprint was obvious: Because the scriptures were filled with examples of great leaders who had grave personal failings, Trump could be considered an imperfect instrument of God's perfect design for America. This rationalization represented a dramatic departure from previous evangelical standards. For decades, the religious right had imposed exacting moral litmus tests on public officials, taking particular glee in tormenting President Bill Clinton for his duplicity and womanizing. Godly character, they insisted, was a requirement for running the country. Now, suddenly, character didn't matter. What mattered was winning. The consequences of this compromise have been devastating for Christian witness. Public perception of the Church has plummeted. In 1975, more than two-thirds of Americans expressed "a great deal or quite a lot of confidence in the Church," according to Gallup, and as of 1985 it was "the most revered institution" in American life. Toward the end of Trump's presidency, just 36 percent of Americans had confidence in the Church. The public hasn't turned against Christians because they act better than the rest of the world; the public has turned against Christians because they act worse than the rest of the world. This distorted witness extends beyond public perception to the very heart of Christian ethics. The compartmentalization of standards—accepting behavior in politics that would be condemned in any other area of life—is toxic to the credibility of the gospel. Many evangelicals have come to view politics the way a suburban husband views Las Vegas—a self-contained escape, a place where the rules and expectations of everyday life do not apply. In 2016, Christians condoned their preferred candidate talking about grabbing women by their vaginas because the election was a binary choice and the Supreme Court was at stake; by 2022, Christians walked around wearing "Fuck Joe Biden" on their chests because in politics the rules of decency, never mind the maxims of Christianity, apparently do not apply.

Chapter 5: Christian Nationalism: Weaponizing Scripture for Partisan Gain

Christian nationalism represents one of the most dangerous distortions of scripture in contemporary American life. It merges religious devotion with national identity, creating a toxic blend that elevates earthly citizenship to the level of spiritual allegiance. This ideology is not merely a political preference; it fundamentally misrepresents the core teachings of Jesus Christ. The theological foundation of Christian nationalism rests on a profound misreading of scripture. Proponents often cite the Old Testament covenant between God and Israel as a model for America's relationship with the divine. They selectively quote passages like 2 Chronicles 7:14—"If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land"—to suggest that America has a special covenant relationship with God. This appropriation ignores the historical and theological context: God is speaking in that passage to Solomon, the king of Israel, after the dedication of the temple in Jerusalem. To apply this language to an American political campaign dozens of centuries later means one of two things: Either the person doesn't know Bible history, or they believe that God's relationship with Israel is somehow parallel to God's relationship with the United States. This misappropriation of scripture serves a specific political purpose. By framing America as God's chosen nation, Christian nationalists can justify extreme measures to "reclaim" or "restore" the country. Political opponents are not merely wrong on policy; they are enemies of God's divine plan for America. This framing transforms political disagreements into spiritual warfare, with devastating consequences for both civic discourse and Christian witness. The weaponization of scripture for partisan purposes is particularly evident in how Christian nationalists approach the concept of religious liberty. While claiming to defend religious freedom, they often seek privileged status for Christianity in public life rather than equal protection for all faiths. This approach directly contradicts Jesus's teaching about the separation between earthly and heavenly kingdoms. When asked about paying taxes to Caesar, Jesus famously replied, "Give back to Caesar what is Caesar's, and to God what is God's." This distinction between secular and sacred authority is fundamental to Christian theology, yet Christian nationalism systematically blurs this boundary. Perhaps most troubling is how Christian nationalism distorts the Great Commission. Jesus commanded His followers to "go and make disciples of all nations," not to establish Christian governments or impose biblical law on secular society. The early Church spread through persuasion and example, not through political power or coercion. They understood that the kingdom Jesus proclaimed was "not of this world." Christian nationalism inverts this priority, focusing on securing earthly power rather than transforming hearts through the gospel message. Christian nationalism represents a modern form of idolatry—placing nation alongside or even above God in the hierarchy of devotion. As one pastor observed, "They think in terms of beating the other side, of winning the argument. The problem is, if you win the argument, you've won nothing." Jesus could have chosen to win the argument. He could have come down from the cross, as the jeering onlookers dared Him to do. But He didn't. Jesus chose to submit Himself to a brutal, dehumanizing death, demonstrating that God's kingdom operates by different principles than the kingdoms of this world.

Chapter 6: The Discipleship Crisis: Absence of Biblical Formation

At the heart of evangelicalism's current turmoil lies a fundamental discipleship crisis. Many American Christians simply lack the biblical formation necessary to distinguish between cultural preferences and spiritual imperatives. This absence of deep theological grounding has left them vulnerable to political manipulation and unable to navigate complex moral questions with biblical wisdom. The evidence of this discipleship deficit is everywhere. Churches that once focused on scripture study and spiritual formation now devote increasing time to cultural commentary and political activism. Pastors report that their congregants are more likely to quote cable news personalities than biblical passages. In many evangelical communities, political allegiance has become the primary marker of spiritual authenticity, superseding traditional measures like prayer, service, or scriptural knowledge. This shift reflects a broader trend of shallow engagement with scripture. Many Christians approach the Bible selectively, looking for verses that affirm their existing cultural and political views rather than allowing the full counsel of scripture to challenge and transform those views. When Christians are discipled primarily by society rather than scripture, they inevitably look to the Bible for affirmation rather than transformation. "But if the Bible is the word of God," one theologian noted, "then God ought to be interrogating those things. That's why Jesus came: to fix your vertical relationship with God. He wants your whole life. He wants to transform who you are." The discipleship crisis is particularly evident in how many evangelicals approach questions of national identity. Few pastors regularly preach about idolatry of any kind, much less national idolatry. Without this crucial teaching, Christians lack the discernment to recognize when patriotism crosses the line into worship. They fail to understand that you can care for your country without worshipping your country, and that you can seek good for your neighbors without viewing political victories as spiritual imperatives. Jesus's teaching about salt provides a powerful metaphor for this discipleship failure. In three of the four gospels, Jesus references "salt" and warns about it losing its saltiness, its taste, its character. Jesus talks about salt not as an additive, necessarily, but as something unique that should be guarded against contamination. In Matthew, He says salt without flavor is good only to be trampled beneath our feet along with other ordinary rocks; in Luke, He says it has lost its purpose entirely and should be disposed of. Most Christians would agree that a healthy dose of civic participation does not risk contaminating their distinct flavor. But how quickly the unique can become ordinary. The solution to this discipleship crisis requires a return to the fundamentals of spiritual formation. Churches must reclaim their role as communities of biblical teaching and spiritual transformation rather than political action committees. Pastors must be willing to challenge their congregations with the full counsel of scripture, even when it contradicts cherished political positions. And individual Christians must commit to studying scripture with what one professor called "PhD-type rigor and kindergarten-level vulnerability."

Chapter 7: Recovering Christian Identity: Beyond American Evangelicalism

The path to recovering authentic Christian identity requires moving beyond the confines of American evangelicalism as it has come to be defined. This recovery demands a fundamental reorientation—not away from evangelicalism's theological core, but away from its cultural and political accretions that have obscured the gospel message. The first step in this recovery process is acknowledging that Christians are called to be a distinct people. Peter describes believers as "exiles" and "foreigners" in this world, citizens of a different kingdom altogether. This identity as exiles should inform how Christians engage with culture and politics. Rather than seeking dominance or privilege, Christians might instead adopt what one Australian theologian called the posture of "cheerful losers"—people who know that their ultimate victory is secure in Christ and therefore can engage with the world from a position of confidence rather than fear. This cheerful confidence characterized the early Church. Despite facing genuine persecution, early Christians were known for their joy and generosity. They cared for the sick during plagues when others fled. They rescued abandoned infants. They treated women, slaves, and foreigners with unprecedented dignity. Their distinct way of life proved more compelling than any political program. As one pastor observed, "The Christians of the first few centuries were so confident Jesus was Lord that they could be quite rude in mocking the gods. They were confident and cheerful; even when they're locked up in prison, they're singing hymns, they're writing letters encouraging others." Recovering this distinct identity requires a renewed emphasis on biblical formation. Churches must reclaim their role as communities of discipleship rather than political mobilization centers. This means going deeper into scripture, allowing it to challenge cultural assumptions rather than merely affirming them. It means teaching Christians to think biblically about complex issues rather than adopting pre-packaged partisan positions. Most fundamentally, it means helping believers understand that their primary allegiance is to Christ and His kingdom, not to any nation, party, or cultural identity. This recovery also requires a willingness to "lose well." As Christianity's cultural influence in America continues to decline, believers face a choice: They can respond with fear and aggression, or they can demonstrate the confidence that comes from knowing "how the story ends." The former approach leads to a defensive posture that undermines Christian witness; the latter creates opportunities to demonstrate the distinctive values of God's kingdom. As one pastor put it, "What must have felt like a loss at many levels—social status, freedom—was actually a win. He was the master of being a cheerful loser. Probably because he knew that it's a win for the gospel." Moving beyond American evangelicalism doesn't mean abandoning its theological commitments to the authority of scripture, the centrality of Christ's atoning work, the necessity of personal conversion, or the importance of evangelism. Rather, it means recovering these commitments from their entanglement with American nationalism and partisan politics. It means recognizing that the gospel transcends cultural and political boundaries, offering good news to people of every nation, tribe, and tongue.

Summary

The crisis in American evangelicalism represents a profound confusion between kingdoms—between the eternal kingdom of God and the temporal kingdoms of this world. This confusion has led believers to exchange their birthright as citizens of heaven for a mess of political pottage, compromising their witness and distorting their identity. The consequences extend far beyond the evangelical community itself, reshaping American political discourse and undermining the credibility of Christian faith in the public square. The path forward requires nothing less than a recovery of authentic Christian identity—one rooted in scripture rather than partisan politics, characterized by confident witness rather than fearful defensiveness, and oriented toward the kingdom of God rather than American nationalism. This recovery will not come through political victory or cultural dominance but through faithful presence, loving service, and unwavering commitment to the way of Jesus. Only by rediscovering what it means to be "in the world but not of it" can evangelicals reclaim their distinctive voice and offer a compelling alternative to the kingdoms of this world.

About Author

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Tim Alberta

Tim Alberta is chief political correspondent for Politico Magazine, and has reported for National Review, National Journal, The Hotline, and the Wall Street Journal.

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