"Come Out of Her, My People"

When Christianity and Christian Nationalism collide

(A seven-minute read.)

I just finished a series of sermons for my congregation in Freeport (Maine) that was entitled “Because God is love . . .” It was a long series (probably the longest I’ve ever done), and it looked at various facets of God’s love, proposing that anything that’s true of God is true of him because he is love (I need to give a nod to my friend, Ty, who often—including just recently—frames these ideas in a similar way).

Thus, I had titles like, “Because God is love, God creates,” or, “Because God is love, God sabbaths,” or, “Because God is love, God gets angry.”

You get the idea.

In one of the sermons I got a little cheeky, though. The title was, “Because God is love, God is not American.”

On the one hand, it’s a little provocative. On the other hand, it’s not really that provocative, since I suspect—or at least hope—that most Christians would affirm the idea that God is for all peoples, regardless of nationality or race.

And yet I did present the idea with a bit more controversial rhetoric.

After all, as I shared, my particular faith community—Seventh-day Adventism—has historically had a complicated relationship with and attitude toward the United States (and any “Christian” leanings it might claim or promote).

Simply put, since our very inception (and even before), Seventh-day Adventists have maintained that America will have a pivotal role to play in the “end times,” trying to compel people to abide by its religious values and even forcing everyone to worship on its terms.

Specifically, early Adventists believed that in the thirteenth chapter of Revelation, the New Testament’s last book, America was identified as the “land beast,” which looked like a lamb but spoke like a dragon.

After all, the word “lamb” is used 28 times in the book of Revelation, and it always refers to Jesus—except, seemingly, in this one place, where this beast looks like Jesus but speaks like the Devil (since the “dragon” is elsewhere identified in Revelation as Satan).

Thus, early Adventists concluded that this beast—which represents, as they understood it, a nation or kingdom—would have the appearance of Christianity but the practices of Satan. It would claim to promote the humble, self-sacrificing love of Jesus, while practicing the controlling, manipulative actions of the Devil.

And in their minds, this was clearly the corrupt, apostate, coercive form of Christianity that wielded unmitigated influence in America in the nineteenth century (with its creedalism, the enslavement of Black people, and religious legislation that sought to officially make America a “Christian nation”).

Adventist stalwart Uriah Smith thus reflected this ubiquitous Adventist interpretation when, in 1871, he presented eight arguments for why the United States fulfilled this prophecy. Summarizing his conclusions, he made it clear:

We have seen that of these eight specifications, just two things can be said: first, that they are all perfectly met in the history of the United States, thus far; and, secondly, that they are not met in the history of any other government on the face of the earth. Behind these eight lines of defense, therefore, the argument lies impregnably intrenched. . . .

And the American patriot, he who loves his country . . . needs an argument no less ponderous and immovable, and an array of evidence no less clear, to enable him to accept the painful conclusion that the remainder of the prophecy also applies to this government, hitherto the best the world has ever seen; for the prophet immediately turns to a part of the picture which is dark with injustice, and marred by oppression, deception, intolerance, and wrong.[*]

Adventists thus viewed it as one of their main apocalyptic duties, taking their cues from Revelation 18, to invite everyone to “Come out of her, my people.” They urged everyone to separate from any Christian nationalistic zeal, aligning instead with the principles of God’s non-coercive love and to practice a form of biblical Christianity that didn’t use control to enforce its decrees.

And this was the prevailing view of most Adventists throughout its first 150 years of existence.

Christian Nationalism, once again

As I’ve shared before, I’m a bit open-handed about how I relate to and interpret the book of Revelation.

While I largely affirm the historic Adventist position in broad strokes, believing it could all very likely go down the way we’ve predicted, and I am, as I explained last week, a premillennialist, I resist dogmatism on the matter (for what that’s worth) and have a deep allergy toward anything that traffics in conspiracy theory.

But there’s one thing I definitely remain committed to without equivocation: I am highly, highly suspicious of any political movements that seek to enforce any sort of religious (and especially “Christian”) agenda in America.

This whole topic seems especially relevant at this time for two reasons—one that could probably be of interest to a general audience, and one that may be of greater interest to my own faith community.

First, I am incredibly troubled by the proliferation of Christian Nationalist rhetoric in America over the last decade or so. I think the concern is always relevant, but it seems especially relevant of late.

Read Stephanie McCrummen’s recent piece, “The Army of God Comes Out of the Shadows,” published in The Atlantic. Read fellow Adventist historian Douglas Morgan’s article, “The Seven Mountains Mandate: Christian Dominonism’s Playbook.”

They’re certainly not the only ones sounding the alarm, but they note how more and more American Christians—41 percent at this point, which is up from 30 percent two years ago—affirm the idea that “God wants Christians to stand atop the ‘7 mountains of society,’ including the government, education, media, and others.”

Watch as the many Christian influencers who helped get Donald Trump re-elected sang “How Great Thou Art” in the lobby of the convention center where Trump had just delivered his victory speech (some Christians may have been moved by the scene; I was deeply disturbed by it, leaving me with chills).

Listen as the current speaker of the House, Mike Johnson, claimed that “over the last 60 or 70 years our generation has been convinced that there is a separation of church and state . . . most people think that is part of the Constitution, but it’s not.”

Pay attention to Donald Trump when he declared in his inaugural address that he was “saved by God to make America great again,” which was immediately affirmed by Franklin Graham, the son of Billy, in his inauguration prayer, when he declared that “the last four years were very dark, but look what God has done! He saved [President Trump] and raised him up with His mighty hand.”

Take note of how the White House enacted an “Executive Order” which outlaws “anti-Christian bias,” and set up a “task force” to investigate and eradicate this alleged “anti-Christian bias” in America.

The examples I could cite are legion. But I trust you get the point.

Granted, I don’t want to sound alarmist at all—nor do I want to feed into any sort of end-times hysteria, declaring that it’s a sure sign that the “end is near.”

But however one interprets the Bible’s apocalyptic books, it seems fairly clear to me that they are, at the very least, warning of the dangers of an amalgamation of religious forces and civil government whenever and wherever they exist—inviting us to be alert to how some might use Christianity as a way to enforce a political agenda.

Second, perhaps what’s even more troubling to me is how many of my fellow Adventists—the very same ones who’ve been the most vocal about the “end times”—have not only been silent about these developments, but have even started embracing and promoting this sort of Christian Nationalistic rhetoric (and shrugging their shoulders at the seeming assault on the Constitution).

To be frank, it’s staggering.

I grew up listening to many of these people, hearing them repeatedly sound the alarm about the dangers of church and state joining forces, and now quite a few of them are seemingly going all-in on Christian Nationalism, even inviting some of the most zealous Christian Nationalists to speak at their events.

To be clear: I don’t believe that simply because a person voted for or supports Donald Trump, or because they have significant concerns about the progressive left and want to see America return to some of its traditional values, that it automatically makes them a Christian Nationalist.

Please don’t misunderstand me.

But, at the very least, I would just admonish my fellow Adventists to remain vigilant when it comes to the various movements that are afoot.

And to recommit to speaking with a prophetic voice—once again urging ourselves and others to “Come out of her, my people.”

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[*] Uriah Smith cited the enslavement of Black people as one evidence that America fulfilled this prophecy, but then addressed this rhetorical question—which I find to be quite intriguing and prescient: “But why refer to slavery, it may be asked, when it has already become a thing of the past? Slavery, to be sure, as a political measure, has been abolished. For the time being, the ballots and bayonets of its opponents have outnumbered those of its partisans. But has this changed the disposition by which it has heretofore been fostered? Has it converted the South? Have they been brought to look upon it as an evil which should be given up on account of its own intrinsic wrong? We would that we could answer these questions in the affirmative. But there are acts too patent to be denied, which show that the virus of this great iniquity rankles in the body politic; that the system of slavery has been given up by the people of the South simply as a matter of necessity; that if they had the power they would re-instate it again though they should rend and ruin the Republic in their attempt; and hundreds of thousands in the North would sympathize with them in the movement, and second them in their efforts. The disease is driven in from the surface, but is not cured. It may be a source of serious trouble hereafter.”

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Shawn is a pastor and church planter in Portland, Maine, whose life, ministry, and writing focus on incarnational and embodied expressions of faith. The author of four books and a columnist for Adventist Review, he is also a DPhil (PhD) candidate at the University of Oxford, focusing on nineteenth-century American Christianity. You can follow him on Instagram, and listen to his podcast Mission Lab.