Russell Moore: Christ and a Coin-Toss Race

This essay is a new contribution to a weekly series in Christianity Today.

“Here we are, right at the end, and the election is a coin toss.”

A friend said that to me just a few minutes ago, referring to the razor-thin polling margins between Donald Trump and Kamala Harris. A few thousand votes one way or the other in as few as three swing states could produce radically different alternatives for the future of the country.

I wonder, though, whether as American Christians we ought to think of Election Day as a coin toss in a different way as well. Even in a more secularized society, the words “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s” (Mark 12:17, ESV throughout) are still recognizable to most people. The account—from the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke—recounts Jesus’ response to the question of whether to pay taxes to the Roman emperor’s regime.

Like many other Scriptures, those words have been grossly misused. They’re quoted to justify churches engaging directly in political activism (often paired with a misreading of Abraham Kuyper’s famous declaration that there is not one square inch of the universe that Jesus does not claim as “Mine”). They are also quoted to make the case for a separation of Christian conscience from public justice (often with a similarly downgraded version of Martin Luther’s idea of two kingdoms).

First, Jesus upended an artificial controversy to provoke a genuine crisis in his hearers. The question about taxes was posed by two very disparate groups—the Pharisees and the Herodians—but neither side was truly grappling with a theological dilemma. They were executing a strategy. They were humiliated by Jesus’ parables against them and so plotted “to trap him in his talk” (v. 13). This was a proxy war.

Jesus saw through the artificial controversy and the manipulative flattery with which it was framed: “Teacher, we know that you are true and do not care about anyone’s opinion. For you are not swayed by appearances, but truly teach the way of God” (v. 14). It was not out of naive ignorance but “knowing their hypocrisy” (v. 15) that Jesus answered.

Claude Alexander: Pastors and Public Servants: Lead Your Neighbor As Yourself

This essay is a new contribution to a weekly series by Christianity Today.

As a pastor, I’ve found one of the main difficulties in leading faithfully and living as good neighbors is that we can’t always choose our neighbors or the context and circumstances in which we lead and live.

And in a time of tense divisiveness, global conflicts, natural disasters, and other complex crises, this sense of helplessness is nearly universal.

We have all experienced the reality of a world beyond our control—not least during the COVID-19 pandemic, when life changed for all of us. Many of us were shuttering in place and scrambling to find masks, sanitizers, and so forth, grappling with a staggering amount of uncertainty about what we could and could not do. For me personally, the pandemic was a crucible for my leadership, and one I find instructive for ministry to this day.

As a multigenerational, multisite African American congregation in Charlotte, North Carolina—one of the earliest cities to issue stay-in-place mandates—we faced multiple challenges and points of tension during the initial years of the pandemic. Our staff wrestled with the same questions many Christians did as we sought to balance our individual and congregational freedom with community responsibility.

How do we honor the value of embodied, collective public worship while simultaneously protecting our congregation, especially those most vulnerable with comorbidities? How do I negotiate concerns about the budget and potential loss of income considering my responsibility to protect the livelihood of my staff and their families? How does a congregation of our size and influence set a good example in how we operate during a public health emergency, including in our rhetoric?

Above all, I believe the pandemic—as any major crisis facing our community can—created a unique opportunity for us to demonstrate our confidence in God when every aspect of life as we know it seems threatened and compromised. And as I’ve reflected on this truth since then, I’ve gleaned insights from the life and ministry of Ezekiel about what it means to lead faithfully and live as good neighbors in a world beyond our control.

Justin Giboney: You are the Light of the Public Square

This essay is a new contribution to a weekly series by Christianity Today.

The Christian public witness has raised a voice of emancipation in American history. Our faith has provided the civic muscle to build schools for the poor and hospitals for the sick. Christians have visited the lonely and comforted the dying. The church has confronted sex trade pimps and run off neighborhood dope peddlers. It’s no exaggeration to say that no other institution in America has a comparable record of service. At our best, Christians have illuminated the way toward justice and moral order in US society.

Conversely, at our worst, American Christians have misused the church’s social and political capital. We’ve demeaned the outcast and condoned the worst elements of secular society for the sake of our own power or validation. Too often, our hymns and public action have been in conflict. We’ve lent moral authority to amoral leaders and allowed ourselves to become the prop of devious political interests.

When wielded with selflessness and sobriety, the Christian public witness can be the conscience and Good Samaritan of this nation. When driven by pride, conformity, or domination, it can trample the best American ideals and even tread over the principles of our own divine exemplar, Jesus Christ.

Our public engagement has been a powerful—and regrettably mercurial—force in the American experiment. And in this polarized moment, we must decide which side of this dual legacy we’ll continue. Will we reflect the tenacity and grace of Fannie Lou Hamer and Dorothy Day? Or will we embrace the hubris of the Christian nationalist and the opportunism of the jackleg preacher?

If the issues our nation faces today were small and superficial, believers could just play nice and mind our own business. But it’s far more complicated than that. Americans’ disagreements concern our fundamental values and the well-being of our neighbors. Debates about economics, the scope of parental rights, and life-or-death issues like health care and abortion can’t be shrugged off.

We share this democracy, and many of our positions impact other people and groups—America is truly a union. We should be respectful across political differences, but not every political perspective is as good as the next one. There are ideas and movements that deserve a very public and democratic death, which means political conflict is unavoidable and necessary. We can’t silently watch from the sidelines as Wall Street steals from the widow or social media sexually corrupts the orphan.

The question is not “Should Christians engage in public life?” but “How can Christians imitate Christ as we engage constructively in the conflicts of democracy?”

An Election Season Resolution: Lose the Adverbs

This is an excerpt from John Inazu’s substack, *Some Assembly Required. Read the full essay here.

 

I tell my law students to lose most of their adverbs. It’s generally good to avoid overextended emotion and overclaiming. The other side isn’t always wrong. Few people are absolutely mistaken. You don’t have to really care; just care.

As we inch closer toward what is sure to be a divisive and contested election, each of us might consider our own adverb inventory, especially on social media. You will seldom win an argument by making your point more forcefully, more angrily, and with less nuance. Fewer adverbs might also lower your blood pressure.

Politics at its best—or at least at its most functional—requires similar moderation. Politics depends on compromise.

No side has all the answers, extreme policy positions rarely win, elections are seldom about good versus evil. And every time we type away to the contrary—we’re right, they’re wrong; we’re good they’re evil; we’re smart; they’re stupid—we undermine the moderated discourse on which our civil peace depends.

None of this means the stakes don’t matter—of course they do. This coming presidential election—like every one that has preceded it—will have enormous consequences and its outcome will affect people’s lives and liberties in ways that matter. You should care. Be involved, make your arguments known, and vote.

But as you do, aim for nuance and moderation in your claims. The way we engage with each other—particularly in political discourse—shapes the fabric of our democracy. In an age of polarization, where every issue seems to divide us into opposing camps, it is more important than ever to remember that our words can either contribute to the unraveling of our social fabric, or they can help to restore it one conversation at a time.

Too often, pleas for “civil discourse” come from people in power trying to maintain the status quo by suppressing passion and emotion. You don’t have to play into that game. But it’s possible to express both passion and moderation at the same time.

Matthew Kaemingk: The Acceptance Stage of Lost Evangelical Influence

This essay is a new contribution to a weekly series by Christianity Today.

American Christianity is in cultural and political decline. In 1937, 70 percent of Americans reported that they belonged to a church. These numbers held relatively steady through much of the 20th century. But in the past 25 years, an estimated 40 million Americans have stopped attending church. As Ernest Hemingway said, bankruptcy comes gradually and then suddenly.

The American public square, previously white and Protestant, is quickly becoming a pluralistic bazaar of diverse cultures, religions, ideologies, and lifestyles. Once dominant and uncontested, Christianity is increasingly one moral vision among many.

How are evangelicals responding to the decline of Christianity’s cultural and political power?

Contrary to media caricatures, evangelicals are not a monolith. We’re responding to this decline in a wide variety of ways. The classical stages of grief can offer an insightful tool for understanding the ways evangelicals are processing their cultural and political decline (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance).

It is quite possible to meet an evangelical at any stage in this grieving process. But of course, this scheme does not fit everyone. Some evangelicals are not grieving at all. They actually celebrate Christianity’s loss of power. This group believes it would be fundamentally good and healthy for Christians to take a moratorium on political engagement, seeing it as beneficial for both America and the church.

While I sympathize with their sentiments, I must object. I believe that Christians are called by God to engage in political life. We must actively seek public justice and mercy. We must vigorously work for the flourishing for our neighbors. This requires us to be involved in politics and exert some level of political power and influence toward these ends. Privileged Christians who wish to politically disengage are abandoning the very neighbors they’re commanded to protect, serve, and love.

No, I believe it is entirely appropriate for evangelicals to grieve their loss of cultural and political power. That said, as any counselor will tell you, there are productive and unproductive forms of grief. The bereft are not permitted to remain in denial, anger, depression, or bargaining forever. Nor are they allowed to hurt others as they wail.

Here’s how we might interact with these stages. The first stage of grief is denial. While some evangelicals are still in denial over the decline of Christianity, their numbers are dwindling by the day. It is becoming harder and harder to ignore Christianity’s marginalization in the media, the academy, the marketplace, arts, and politics. For those still in denial, there is not much to say.

The second stage is anger. Evangelical rage makes for great TV; infantile evangelical leaders coming unhinged attract a lot of clicks. It is thus no surprise that the bulk of media attention has been trained on evangelical fits of outrage, victimhood, and lament over the emergence of a post-Christian America.

The third stage is bargaining. Quite a few articles and books have explored the disastrous ways in which evangelical leaders are increasingly willing to make a devil’s bargain for a few scraps of political power and access.

While much ink has been spilled on these forms of evangelical denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, the final stage has received precious little attention. What might look like for American evangelicals to step into a state of acceptance?

John Inazu: How To Find Common Ground When You Disagree About the Common Good

This essay is the first installment of a new weekly series by Christianity Today.

How do Christians live faithfully and as good neighbors in a world we don’t control?

In 2020, Tim Keller and I coedited a book titled Uncommon Ground. Our project convened a group of evangelical and evangelical-adjacent friends to reflect—as the subtitle said—on how Christians can live faithfully in a world of difference. Since then, however, I’ve rephrased the question for my own work. We should be faithful, yes, but also neighborly. And our world is not just host to real difference of belief; it’s also a world we don’t control.

I owe this subtle but important reframing to my friendship and work with Eboo Patel, the founder and president of Interfaith America. The most important interfaith organization in the country, Interfaith America does not advance a soupy multiculturalism that pretends that all roads lead to heaven or that our differences don’t matter. It takes religious particularity seriously, identifies conflicts and tensions created by that particularity, and works to find common ground across religious differences.

Interfaith engagement that doesn’t devolve into a soupy multiculturalism is difficult—and necessary in our diverse democracy.

I met Eboo nearly a decade ago. On that first meeting, we talked about the challenges of having young kids, busy travel schedules, and public writing commitments, as well as the importance of interfaith cooperation. Since then, we’ve spoken, taught, written, and built together.

As a Muslim, Eboo does not believe in the saving work of Jesus Christ—and that difference between us is no small thing. We have other differences too: Eboo tells more stories than I do. I drink alcohol, and he doesn’t. His language is usually more colorful than mine. We are friends in spite of our differences.

What does this kind of friendship have to do with Christian engagement in the world? Almost everything.

Russell Moore on ‘an altar call’ for Evangelical America

In an interview with NPR, Russell Moore reflects on his journey from being a prominent Southern Baptist leader to his current role as an outside critic, driven largely by his opposition to Donald Trump and the Southern Baptist Convention’s handling of various issues. Moore describes how his public criticism of Trump and the Convention’s response to sexual abuse led to his ostracism from the denomination. Despite the personal and professional challenges, Moore finds that his faith has strengthened, and he aims to address the crisis in American Christianity through his new book, Losing Our Religion: An Altar Call For Evangelical America. He emphasizes that the core problem is not just political but a broader issue of cultural and existential disconnection.

Moore argues that genuine reform in evangelicalism cannot be achieved through top-down efforts or political battles but must start at the grassroots level. He states, “When the teachings of Jesus himself are seen as subversive to us, then we’re in a crisis,” highlighting the extent to which fundamental Christian teachings have been overshadowed by cultural and political conflicts. Moore also reflects on his personal exile from evangelical circles, noting, “I am not someone who thinks of myself as a dissenter… but one of the things I’ve noticed is that since I’ve gone through that, I’ve talked to thousands of people who have experienced a very similar thing.” This perspective underscores his belief in the necessity of revisiting and realigning with the original, transformative vision of the church.

What Does Christian Civic Engagement Look Like?

… I try to avoid the false sense that I can reach an “objective” perspective. I think it’s the fullness of our spiritual, emotional, physical, and social realities that makes us human, that shapes our perceptions, decisions and judgments. And rather than aspiring to being “detached” or objective (can we truly be objective?) I try to be mindful of my own values, experiences, and how they shape (or, in some instances, create weak spots in) my understanding, and then seek to demonstrate empathic curiosity.

Nikki Toyama-Szeto

In her blog post, Nikki Toyama-Szeto explores the intersection of faith and politics, framing voting as both a personal and communal act deeply rooted in Christian values. She views voting as an act of intercession, akin to a prayer expressing a desire for change in line with her faith. Toyama-Szeto emphasizes that while her faith informs her understanding of justice and values, including care for the marginalized and stewardship of creation, she acknowledges the limits of expecting a political system to fully embody these ideals. She advocates for balancing conviction with empathy, and for seeking diverse perspectives to deepen understanding and foster kindness.

Toyama-Szeto also warns against single-issue voting and urges Christians to engage with different viewpoints to enrich their approach to political participation. She quotes a pastor’s perspective, saying, “A vote is a prayer,” to highlight the spiritual dimension of voting and encourage thoughtful engagement with both faith and politics. This approach reflects her belief in integrating faith into all aspects of life, including political involvement, while remaining open to the complexities of differing viewpoints.

Her full blog post is available on Interfaith America’s site.

A Muslim Perspective on Faith in the Public Square

In this episode of Christians for Social Action’s “20 Minute Takes” podcast, Eboo Patel joins Nikki Toyama-Szeto for a conversation about what a pluralistic nation needs from Christians. They talk about the The Bear (Hulu) and the human condition, the role of faith in public life, and the role that Christians can play in a pluralistic nation.

You can listen to the full conversation here.

Faith helps me be a better person. Growing up around people who are from different religions, it just helped people be better.

Eboo Patel

Why We Shouldn’t Lose Faith in Organized Religion

But that’s the story of America. That is American pluralism at its best. That is civic cooperation. And I think that we should marvel at that every day.

Eboo Patel

What do an Anglican priest and Muslim bridge-builder have in common? You might be surprised by what you find. In this New York Times Interview, Tish Harrison Warren interviews Eboo Patel, founder and president of Interfaith America. Together they discuss the possibilities of religious pluralism and the role that Christians can play in American life.

You can read the full interview here.

Tish: At many interfaith gatherings I’ve been to, I see mainly religious progressives talking about progressive causes. Your organization reaches out to moderate and conservative religious people as well, including white evangelicals. How do you bridge those progressive/conservative divides that seem so deep now?

Eboo: It’s actually so much simpler in practice than it is in theory. I’ll give an example: In any hospital in America at any hour, there are people from very different religious identities — a Muslim surgeon with a Jewish anesthesiologist, with a Mormon nurse, with a Jehovah’s Witness social worker, with a Baptist who is sanitizing the room at a hospital started by a Catholic social order like the Dominicans or the Jesuits, that is run by an agnostic who grew up Buddhist. And every single one of them before they walk into a surgery is having their own kind of moment of prayer or reflection or connection with what they call God. That’s what we see as interfaith work.

People from diverse religious backgrounds — who may disagree on some fundamental things about abortion or where to draw the line in Jerusalem or doctrinal matters like the nature of Jesus — who are working together on other fundamental things. That is the genius of American society. We call that civic cooperation. It takes place everywhere all the time.

Think about refugee resettlement. Six of the nine refugee resettlement agencies in America were founded by faith communities. And virtually all of them spend most of their time resettling refugees from a different religion. So you have Jews who founded the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, HIAS, in the late 19th century to resettle Jews from Russia. Then, by around the 1970s, most of the Jews who want to be resettled somewhere, whether it’s the United States or Europe or Israel, have been resettled. So does HIAS close? No! They start resettling Cambodian Buddhists. And now they’re resettling Somali Muslims. I think that’s the most inspiring thing in the world. In America, people build institutions — hospitals, social service agencies, colleges, whatever — out of the inspiration of their own faith identity, but the institution serves people of all identities. That is not a common ethos in human history.

But that’s the story of America. That is American pluralism at its best. That is civic cooperation. And I think that we should marvel at that every day.