By Andy Crouch
As
a non-profit journalistic organization, Christianity Today is doubly
committed to staying neutral regarding political campaigns—the law
requires it, and we serve our readers best when we give them the
information and analysis they need to make their own judgments.
We can never collude when idolatry becomes manifest, especially when it demands our public allegiance.
Just because we are neutral, however, does not mean we
are indifferent. We are especially not indifferent when the gospel is at
stake. The gospel is of infinitely greater importance than any
campaign, and one good summary of the gospel is, “Jesus is Lord.”
The true Lord of the world reigns even now, far above
any earthly ruler. His kingdom is not of this world, but glimpses of its
power and grace can be found all over the world. One day his kingdom,
and his only, will be the standard by which all earthly kingdoms are
judged, and following that judgment day, every knee will bow, in heaven,
on earth, and under the earth, as his reign is fully realized in the
renewal of all things.
The lordship of Christ places constraints on the way his
followers involve themselves, or entangle themselves, with earthly
rulers.
On the one hand, we pray for all rulers—and judging from
the example of Old Testament exiles like Daniel and New Testament
prisoners like Paul, we can even wholeheartedly pray for rulers who
directly oppose our welfare. On the other hand, we recognize that all
earthly governments partake, to a greater or lesser extent, in what the
Bible calls idolatry: substituting the creation for the Creator and the
earthly ruler for the true God.
No human being, including even the best rulers, is free
of this temptation. But some rulers and regimes are especially
outrageous in their God-substitution. After Augustus Caesar, the
emperors of Rome became more and more elaborate in their claims of
divinity with each generation—and more and more ineffective in their
governance. Communism aimed not just to replace faith in anything that
transcended the state, but to crush it.
Such systems do not just
dishonor God, they dishonor his image in persons, and in doing so they
set themselves up for dramatic destruction. We can never collude when
such idolatry becomes manifest, especially when it demands our public
allegiance. Christians in every place and time must pray for the courage
to stay standing when the alleged “voice of a god, not a man” commands
us to kneel.
This year’s presidential election in the United States presents Christian voters with an especially difficult choice.
The Democratic nominee has pursued unaccountable power
through secrecy—most evidently in the form of an email server designed
to shield her communications while in public service, but also in
lavishly compensated speeches, whose transcripts she refuses to release,
to some of the most powerful representatives of the world system. She
exemplifies the path to power preferred by the global technocratic
elite—rooted in a rigorous control of one’s image and calculated
disregard for norms that restrain less powerful actors. Such
concentration of power, which is meant to shield the powerful from the
vulnerability of accountability, actually creates far greater
vulnerabilities, putting both the leader and the community in greater
danger.
But because several of the Democratic candidate’s policy
positions are so manifestly incompatible with Christian reverence for
the lives of the most vulnerable, and because her party is so
demonstrably hostile to expressions of traditional Christian faith,
there is plenty of critique and criticism of the Democratic candidate
from Christians, including evangelical Christians.
But not all evangelical Christians—in fact, alas, most evangelical
Christians, judging by the polls—have shown the same critical judgment
when it comes to the Republican nominee. True, when given a choice,
primary voters who claimed evangelical faith largely chose other
candidates. But since his nomination, Donald Trump has been able to
count on “the evangelicals” (in his words) for a great deal of support.
This past week, the latest (though surely not last)
revelations from Trump’s past have caused many evangelical leaders to
reconsider. This is heartening, but it comes awfully late. What Trump
is, everyone has known and has been able to see for decades, let alone
the last few months. The revelations of the past week of his vile and
crude boasting about sexual conquest—indeed, sexual assault—might have
been shocking, but they should have surprised no one.
Indeed, there is hardly any public person in America
today who has more exemplified the “earthly nature” (“flesh” in the King
James and the literal Greek) that Paul urges the Colossians to shed:
“sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires, and greed, which is
idolatry” (3:5). This is an incredibly apt summary of Trump’s life to
date. Idolatry, greed, and sexual immorality are intertwined in
individual lives and whole societies.
Sexuality is designed to be
properly ordered within marriage, a relationship marked by covenant
faithfulness and profound self-giving and sacrifice. To indulge in
sexual immorality is to make oneself and one’s desires an idol. That
Trump has been, his whole adult life, an idolater of this sort, and a
singularly unrepentant one, should have been clear to everyone.
And therefore it is completely consistent that Trump is
an idolater in many other ways. He has given no evidence of humility or
dependence on others, let alone on God his Maker and Judge. He wantonly
celebrates strongmen and takes every opportunity to humiliate and demean
the vulnerable. He shows no curiosity or capacity to learn. He is, in
short, the very embodiment of what the Bible calls a fool.
Some have compared Trump to King David, who himself
committed adultery and murder. But David’s story began with a profound
reliance on God who called him from the sheepfold to the kingship, and
by the grace of God it did not end with his exploitation of Bathsheba
and Uriah. There is no parallel in Trump’s much more protracted career
of exploitation. The Lord sent his word by the prophet Nathan to
denounce David’s actions—alas, many Christian leaders who could have
spoken such prophetic confrontation to him personally have failed to do
so. David quickly and deeply repented, leaving behind the astonishing
and universally applicable lament of his own sin in Psalm 51—we have no
sign that Trump ever in his life has expressed such humility. And the
biblical narrative leaves no doubt that David’s sin had vast and
terrible consequences for his own family dynasty and for his nation. The
equivalent legacy of a Trump presidency is grievous to imagine.
Most Christians who support Trump have done so with
reluctant strategic calculation, largely based on the president’s power
to appoint members of the Supreme Court. Important issues are indeed at
stake, including the right of Christians and adherents of other
religions to uphold their vision of sexual integrity and marriage even
if they are in the cultural minority.
But there is a point at which strategy becomes its own
form of idolatry—an attempt to manipulate the levers of history in favor
of the causes we support. Strategy becomes idolatry, for ancient Israel
and for us today, when we make alliances with those who seem to offer
strength—the chariots of Egypt, the vassal kings of Rome—at the expense
of our dependence on God who judges all nations, and in defiance of
God’s manifest concern for the stranger, the widow, the orphan, and the
oppressed. Strategy becomes idolatry when we betray our deepest values
in pursuit of earthly influence. And because such strategy requires
capitulating to idols and princes and denying the true God, it
ultimately always fails.
Enthusiasm for a candidate like Trump gives our
neighbors ample reason to doubt that we believe Jesus is Lord. They see
that some of us are so self-interested, and so self-protective, that we
will ally ourselves with someone who violates all that is sacred to
us—in hope, almost certainly a vain hope given his mendacity and record
of betrayal, that his rule will save us.
The US political system has never been free of idolatry,
and politics always requires compromise. Our country is flawed, but it
is also resilient. And God is not only just, but also merciful, as he
judges the nations.
In these closing weeks before the election, all
American Christians should repent, fast, and pray—no matter how we vote.
And we should hold on to hope—not in a candidate, but in our Lord
Jesus. We do not serve idols. We serve the living God. Even now he is
ready to have mercy, on us and on all who are afraid. May his name be
hallowed, his kingdom come, and his will be done on earth, as it is in
heaven.
Andy Crouch is editorial director of Christianity Today.
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