Title: The Kingdom, The Power, and the Glory: Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism
Author: Tim Alberta
Publisher: Harper Paperbacks
ISBN: 9780063226890
The first time I was able to vote, Bill Clinton was running. At the time, I was in college and a fully committed, evangelical Christian. To my chagrin all these years later, I was one of “those” that believed you had to be conservative if you were a “real” Christian. (Oh how the mighty have fallen…). At the time, I thought it was morally and spiritually clear who we should vote for and it certainly wasn’t Bill Clinton. My fellow Christians found his personal morals and ethics appalling, and considered voting for him to be a repudiation of the values we held as a collective community.
Fast forward a few years from Clinton’s election, and I found myself on the brink of an unthinkable decision: leaving the evangelical church. This necessary decision came after I realized that the culture of the American church could not—or refused—to accommodate somebody like me, who questioned women’s place in the church, who questioned its attitude towards LGBTQ, who wasn’t sure it should place so much emphasis on right-leaning politics, and who firmly believed that I shouldn’t “submit” my judgment, morals, ethics, intellect and reason to a (at the time theoretical) husband just because he happened to be a man.
Yet despite my questions, I had ensconced myself within Christianity’s walls, afraid to interact with people who thought differently than me, and as I moved out into the world, I saw that we had created an image of non-Christians that didn’t fit reality. Leaving was incredibly painful and it ripped apart the many relationships that I had found sustaining for all of my childhood and early adulthood. But I couldn’t stay. Not when my valid questions caused leaders in Youth With a Mission, the ministry I was part of, to spread rumors that I was a lesbian and demonically possessed. (I am still mystified by their behavior, but am so glad that it expelled me from what I now recognize as a toxic culture.)
I’ve been gone from that world a long time (over 25 years) and retain very few links to it. I’ve been liberal and/or left-leaning moderate for over a quarter of a century, and I no longer consider myself a “Christian.” I fit better into the “exvangelical” mold. And though I am still moved by many of the best Christian principles and understandings of the world (the concept of grace, the idea of turning the other cheek, the idea that it is in our weakness that God gives us spiritual power), I’m raising my son without those cultural or theological underpinnings. Yet the church exists tangentially near me through the few relationships that withstood my defection and because of my family. I was part of that world at one time, and was once extremely committed to it, to the point of being a missionary. I still have enormous respect for the many Christians I know--evangelical, progressive mainline, and Catholic--who live out the message of love and acceptance, the self-sacrificial giving of their time and money, to help others. So the question of how evangelical Christians could vote enthusiastically for somebody like Donald Trump, after thoroughly rejecting Bill Clinton for much less egregious “sins,” has niggled at me since the 2016 election. It feels like a complete about-turn, a rejection of the values and faith I was raised in.
As a result, I read The Kingdom, The Power, and the Glory: Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism by Tim Alberta (published in December 2023) with a great deal of interest.
Raised by a pastor, a devoted Christian, Alberta found himself increasingly alienated from his fellow church-goers because of his never-Trump stance. How, he wondered, could the people steeped in the words of Jesus, who commanded his followers to take care of the widows and orphans, to welcome the stranger, and to do unto others as you would have them do unto you, unambiguously and even enthusiastically endorse Donald Trump as president not once but three times? Donald Trump, Alberta opines, is the antithesis of Christian values and principles. How had he come to be seen as the hero of American Christianity?
Alberta explores this question from within the church itself. He charts the rise of Christian nationalism, the development of factions within the church that aspire to earthly power, and how so many Christians developed a value of winning at all costs, even if it meant abandoning the virtues and principles that otherwise are the bedrock of the religion. He explores these questions through the prism of intersecting stories:
The rise of Jerry Falwell Sr. (known for starting The Moral Majority) and Liberty University, and the fall of Jerry Falwell Jr. amidst a sex scandal. This story also takes us to the heart of kingmaking within Christian conservatism, as Liberty University is a place that bestows endorsements on future Republican leaders and is extremely successful in mobilizing widespread support for the candidates it chooses. Alberta charts not only the rise of the conservative, religious university but examines its treatment of professors who question the way it equates Christianity with Republicanism. He argues that Liberty has replaced the fundamental mission of the church—to be the loving presence of Jesus in the world, and to transform the world from a position of radical countercultural values of self-sacrificial love and service—with Christian nationalism.
The ousting of Russell Moore, the former president of the Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission and current editor of Christianity Today, from the Southern Baptist Convention. Moore had pushed the SBC to examine its allegiance to right-wing politicians and encountered not just solid resistance but attempts to smear his reputation as a result. Alongside Moore, Alberta examines evangelicals’ treatment of Republican politician Adam Kinzinger (who served on the US House Select Committee to Investigate the January 6th Attack on the United States Capitol) and conservative journalist/lawyer David French, who had criticized Donald Trump in his column. Both Christians, these two men have become pariahs in the church and suffered threats of physical violence against themselves and their families.
The Southern Baptist Convention’s dishonest dealings over its sex abuse scandal, along with its treatment of Rachael Denhollender, who worked to hold the SBC accountable. Alberta argues that many Christian evangelicals are more concerned with appearances of righteousness than with accountability. Though some churches in the SBC have, since this time, created methods for supporting victims and a transparent way to evict sexual predators disguised as ministers, others have doubled down and refused to admit the problem.
Highly-visible pastors who made their careers supporting Republican politicians and have failed to account for the discrepancy between their faith and supposed biblical ideals with their support for questionable politicians like Donald Trump, contrasted with pastors who lost or almost lost their careers because congregants didn’t like it when they questioned their allegiance to Donald Trump.
Alberta concludes that Christian nationalism is a form of idolatry, as it replaces a worship of God and his heavenly kingdom with a desire for earthly political power.
Alberta tracks the history of the rise of Christian nationalism through the political machinations of many Christian leaders. I’m no expert, but I remember as a young Christian reading the popular book The Light and the Glory: 1492-1793 by Peter Marshall Jr. and David Manuel, published originally in the mid 1970s. It’s an excellent example of the ways Christian nationalism has long-since sneaked its way into Christian reinterpretation of American history and theology. It asked the question, “Did God have a plan for America?” and answers with a resounding, “Yes!” The publisher’s description of the book is sufficient to explain the way it specifically advances a Christian theology of nationalism:
Did Columbus believe that God called him west to undiscovered lands? Does American democracy owe its inception to the handful of Pilgrims that settled at Plymouth? If, indeed, there was a specific, divine call upon this nation, is it still valid today?The Light and the Glory answers these questions and many more for history buffs. As readers look at their nation's history from God's point of view, they will begin to have an idea of how much we owe to a very few—and how much is still at stake. Now revised and expanded for the first time in more than thirty years, The Light and the Glory is poised to show new readers just how special their country is.
This twisting of American history, with its many factual errors, was re-examined by Robert Tracy McKenzie, a professor of history at Wheaton College (a Christian university), who concludes that the interpretation of The Light and the Glory can easily push people into idolatry, worshiping America instead of God:
It is always dangerous to link our commitment to Christ too closely with one or more of our other group attachments….When the boundaries between these loyalties become blurred, we fall prey to what C. S. Lewis in The Screwtape Letters called “Christianity And.” By “Christianity And,” Lewis had in mind a state of confusion in which our ultimate identity in Christ becomes inseparable from other kinds of loyalties that can actually take preeminence in our hearts. When it comes to thinking about the past, I think that “Christianity And” is most often a concern when we grapple with what it means to be both a Christian and an American.
As far as Christian nationalist theology, I encountered the latter in Youth With a Mission. It’s been thirty years since I went on my Discipleship Training School (DTS) with YWAM, and I have since solidly moved on from any commitment to Christian ideals or theology other than an intellectual interest rooted in the experiences of my past, so I’m digging back into my memory for this and hopefully I’m not providing an errant understanding of what we were taught. As I remember it, we were trained to consider the idea that each nation had been given a “gift” from God, a specific virtue that that nation alone was given in order to bless the world as a manifestation of God’s grace. For example, a nation like America was bestowed with freedom and wealth; these twin “virtues,” if you will, could be used to further God’s kingdom (or conversely could be corrupted for mankind’s personal gain.) Thus, this idea posited by the leaders who explained this to us did indeed suggest the ways this could be problematic; but you can easily see the way this idea could also be used to promote the idea that America, in particular, was “special” and “singled out,” to bless the world. This idea seems foundational to the rise of Christian nationalism in American evangelicalism.
Whether for space issues or because it wasn’t a question that occupies him, Alberta doesn’t question some of the conflicts that I have found confusing within modern American Christiandom. (Yes, I use the term Christiandom deliberately). American evangelicals are terrified of socialism and communism. At least one close family member told me that she felt she “had” to vote for Trump in 2020 because Joe Biden was going to turn the country towards socialism and begin persecuting Christians. Setting aside the fact that there is no evidence in Biden’s long service to this country that would suggest he would do such a thing, not to mention his well-documented weekly church attendance, I know she wasn’t alone in her fear. A writing client of mine recently made similar claims about Kamala Harris, despite all evidence to the contrary. (She too has never advanced a socialist agenda during her tenure as vice-president, and she too attends church weekly.) I asked my client why, if socialism was a fear of his, he didn’t worry about Trump’s strong allegiance to Putin? It’s a mystery to me, and it would have been interesting to see Alberta take this on as part and parcel of American Christianity—their extreme fear of socialism (which is often conflated with communism in this world); how this plays into their victim/martyr complex; and why, given this fear, they would choose Trump of all people as their hero.
At the heart of American evangelicalism is an odd belief that American Christians are somehow victims. That they are under attack. This victim complex can easily be proven untrue, and I don’t feel it’s worth the time to go into all the reasons why it’s clearly a false belief. Has membership in Christian churches declined? Yes. But American Christians enjoy more governmental benefits, and been acceded more rights, than churches in just about any other country. Yet seeing themselves not just as an underdog, but as martyrs, is potentially the bedrock of why American evangelicals have pursued their path to power.
I talked to my brother Matt and had him read this review. He brought up an interesting point I had not considered, which is the way that fear is a driving factor for how American evangelicals are behaving in today’s political scene. “Evangelicals are petrified of their God,” he said. “They aren’t living up to their bargain with God, and God has a trigger finger to have them steamrolled by the godless, because that’s what God does.” He’s pointing to the biblical stories when the Jewish people turned away from God and he then allowed them to be kidnapped by the Babylonians, where they lived in exile for fifty or sixty years. Or enslaved by the Egyptians. Or countless other examples in the Bible.
“This fear of God and what he might do to them is a secret undercurrent, not in the open—knowing that God can, and will, and has done unspeakable things to ‘his people,’” Matt pointed out. “So the fear of communism is not necessarily a fear of communism; they’re afraid they’ll be bent over and spanked by God because of some wrongdoing on their part.” This is part and parcel of the Christian belief that “who God loves, God disciplines.” (Hebrews 12:6.) “They live in constant cognitive dissonance because they believe their God is all loving, but part of that love is annihilation, torture, drowning babies in Noah’s flood—there is nothing that God won’t do to punish sin, to punish man’s wickedness, and punish his people turning away from him. They live in fear of losing all the good things they have. This is something that could happen even if they are righteous. Job (a biblical patriarch who has everything good in his life taken from him in an instant when God allows Satan to tempt him) is the example. God could decide to test you for reasons you can’t fathom. No wonder they’re petrified all the time. The consequences can be absolutely horrific in their worldview and theology. Ultimately, in the end, we’re seeing in real time a revulsion against their own theology. We can’t help them but it makes sense—they are completely fabricating whole theologies that have nothing to do with the Bible because they realize how horrible hell is. There is no justification for eternal punishment of finite sins. They’re trying to move away from the horror of their own gospel.”
This is an undercurrent in today’s evangelical culture and Alberta doesn’t touch on it, except to point to the many Christian leaders who quote this Bible verse: “If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land” (2nd Chronicles 7:14.) The unstated threat in this verse, the undercurrent Matt points out, is the corollary to the promise: if you humble yourselves and repent, God will heal the land, but if you fail to do so, punishment (sometimes drastic punishment) will ensure. “You’re never sure what God is going to ask of you,” Matt said. “It was a huge fear for me when I was part of the evangelical world. And that is a totally legitimate part of the Bible. God COULD ask you to do something you really really didn’t want to do.”
The Kingdom, The Power, and the Glory: Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism will resonate most with those who are themselves devoted Christians or who, like me, were at some point steeped in the evangelical culture and belief system but no longer have loyalty to it. Some Christians I know have read it with fascination and conviction. Some can’t seem to stomach it—it could mean facing their own complicity. But it is a must-read for anybody who wonders how and why evangelical Christians aligned themselves with the Republican party and, specifically, Donald Trump.
As a side note: I read the Kindle version right after the book came out, and recently listened to the audiobook. I preferred reading it to listening to it. Tim Alberta is the audio narrator, and the cadence he used to stress certain passages, or the incredulity he expressed through his tone of voice when quoting certain people, lent the audio book a certain aura of bias that was utterly lacking in the print version. As I listened to the audio, I was conscious that a loved one, who is a devoted Christian and a Republican who voted for Trump at least once (possibly twice), was reading the print version—so I was particularly sensitive to the potential voice nuances and diction that seemed to undermine the book’s clear aim to impartially, empathetically, and compassionately expose a deep problem within one of America’s most influential subcultures. I am therefore recommending the print version.
Related reading, for further information on the rise of Christian nationalism: The Army of God Comes out of the Shadows
Reviewed by Jessica Powers
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