Perhaps you’ve heard the tragic tale of Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody. The oft-circulated folk parable goes like this:
There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it. Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it. Somebody got angry about that, because it was Everybody’s job. Everybody thought Anybody could do it, but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn’t do it. It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have.
The American Church finds itself in such a situation today as we careen towards Election Day 2024. Recent cycles remind us just how hairsplittingly thin our electoral margins can be in federal races, with several thousand votes in key bell-weather settings capable of directing the course of entire races. Yet it’s in this context that an estimated 41 million Evangelicals (roughly half of the US Evangelical population) are planning not to vote in what by any account will be recorded as one of the most memorable, consequential, and unprecedented presidential contests in our republic’s relatively short history.
All this raises a fundamental question: what is to be the Christian’s posture towards civil government? To borrow from Richard Niebuhr’s framework regarding culture—is the Christian stance in opposition to government and politics? Do the Christian and the state stand inherently at odds in a paradoxical dualism? Does Christianity transform politics through the influence of the gospel? Is the Christian located above government, battling culture and asserting Christ’s dominance? Or is the Christian, perhaps, to be absorbed completely into the political, assimilating into it such that the kingdom of God finds its expression through policy and social progress? These questions reveal not only our political theology but also triangulate our anthropology (doctrine of man), soteriology (doctrine of salvation), and our eschatology (doctrine of last things).
Romans 13:1-7 is the locus classicus of New Testament teaching concerning the state. In it, the Apostle Paul exhorts Christians living in the heart of the empire to submit themselves humbly even to pagan civic rule. This simple instruction, easy for modern readers accustomed to general civil peace and the rule of law to take for granted, was crucial for the early church. After all, Christ had been raised and seated on heaven’s throne with all cosmic authority (Matthew 28:18; Ephesians 1:20-21); one could logically conclude from this that the believer, unified to Christ, is no longer subject to any unbelieving human hiearchy. Yet Scripture teaches expressly the opposite. We are to be subject to rulers (Romans 13:1; cf. Titus 3:1, 1 Peter 2:13), recognizing that their position of authority is sovereignly brought about by God (Romans 13:2; cf. John 19:11). Rather than overthrow the political order, the new covenant legitimates it and dignifies it. As King David pronounced, “When one rules justly over men, ruling in the fear of God, he dawns on them like the morning light” (2 Samuel 23:3b-4a).
Yet as Paul lays out his case, he does so making certain assumptions that bear great significance for our contemporary moment. The civil magistrate is a “servant” or “deacon” (Greek diakonos) of God (Romans 13:4). His duty is to punish evil conduct and to approbate what is good (v. 3), doing so for the good of those ruled, including Christians (v. 4). Moreover, he is a “minister” of God (or “servant”—Greek leitourgos; same root word as liturgy, connoting holy service) to this end. Contrary to a cynical analysis of politics, the civil magistrate is for Paul far more than a vestige of the fall or curse of life east of Eden. Simply put, governing authorities are those for whom Christians must pray, intercede, and give thanks so that the church of Jesus Christ can live peacefully, quietly, and in a godly and dignified manner (1 Timothy 2:1-2).
The first century historical context serves only to further underscore the apostle’s point. Paul lived and wrote under Daniel’s grotesque fourth beast (Daniel 7:7)—an empire whose animating principle ranged from neutral to outright evil, culminating in the demonic despotism of Nero. Yet under these dire circumstances, Paul was unafraid to make use of his rights as a Roman citizen (Acts 25:11) and even exhorted the Philippians, citizens of Rome by virtue of their colonial status, to walk worthy as citizens (Philippians 1:27).¹ Evidently Paul was not tainted by such concourse with a fallen, broken civil system; rather than being defiled by it, Paul seemingly sought to transmit his priestly holiness, as it were, to the common realm of the political.
Paul’s approach to government bears significance as a model for all believers. It is a great irony that many contemporary Evangelicals stand more aloof from the political than did the apostle, despite our system in the United States being markedly more just than that of Rome (albeit flawed), thanks to a preponderance of Christian influence. Yet it is difficult to imagine Paul seemingly as distant and uninvolved in public affairs as much of the modern church would prefer to be. Whereas Paul’s gospel ministry had direct bearing upon whole cities, even to the point of economic disruption (Acts 19:21-41), our great aim is often simply to be left alone.
Some Christians, it must be noted, object to political participation on grounds of conscience. Such individuals are fond of Charles Spugeon’s quip: “Of two evils, choose neither.” Looking at lineups of candidates who all, in varying degrees, represent corruptions of or downright opposition to a biblical worldview, it is these Christians who do not feel as though they can lend their vote to even those politicians who may appear “better” in some respects. The Christian atittude towards legitimate questions of conscience should be one of patience and love. Whatever a follower of Christ cannot do in faith—that is, with a clean conscience, free of doubt—is sin for that individual (Romans 14:23). Thus, if a Christian brother or sister’s conscience is wounded by association with a particular candidate or political institution, we should avoid pressuring him or her in such a way as to provoke them to transgression.
It is also true, in contrast, that many who refrain from political participation today do so not because of a sensitive conscience but a desensitized one. Rather than seeking (perhaps too scrupulously) to remain holy and unstained by the world, such persons have grown numb to multitudinous evils pervasive in society. In these cases, spiritual-sounding aphorisms (“This world isn’t home”) can serve as thin guises for sinful apathy.
Far from prescribing pious indifference, Scripture calls us to faithful stewardship. Jesus’ Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14-30) is a salient reminder that to whom much is given, much is required in return. We delude ourselves by presuming upon the mercy of God if we think he only expects a return upon his spiritual investment in our lives and not also upon his gracious investment in us in terms of the liberties we enjoy as American citizens. Our Lord expects us to take his blessings, including civic ones, and cultivate them for the eternal and temporal good of our neighbor. One can certainly overstate the power of a single ballot in an enormous federal election, especially given today’s contentious circumstances, but one should not understate the privilege it is to exercise one’s political influence, however small.
In 2024, no small number of spiritually significant issues are in play in federal, state, and local elections: state sanctioned and funded child sacrifice, chemical and physical mutilation of minors, our immigration crisis, and racialist ideologies in public education are all on the docket. While avoiding apocalyptic rhetoric or fear-stoking, we must also be honest and recognize that never before in American history has such a unique nexus of economic, social, and moral crises converged upon us all at once. Whichever direction 2024’s political races go, it is unlikely that history will look back kindly upon an American Church that resigned its prophetic position on the field to watch the cultural conflict play out from the sidelines. In keeping with Scripture, Christians have a holy obligation to steward their civic privileges, not in such a way as to give cover to ungodly politicians, but so as to leverage their influence for the good of others. Let us, then, in keeping with Paul’s call to the Philippians, behave as worthy Christian citizens. As the statesmen Edmund Burke remarked, “Nobody makes a greater mistake than he who does nothing because he could do only a little.”
