Caesar gets your taxes. Christ gets your heart.
When the sad news broke that Charlie Kirk was murdered, Christians across the spectrum reacted—not merely with grief, but with renewed debates about his influence. Some rushed to defend him, insisting that critics were smearing a faithful Christian. Others seized the moment to accuse him (and many like him) of pushing Christian nationalism. The air remains thick with accusation two months later.
So before we let emotion carry us away, let’s try to get clear about what Christian nationalism really is—and what it is not. Because in the rush to judge, we risk confusing kingdoms.
What Christian Nationalism Is Not
- It’s not simple patriotism.
Loving your country—praying for its rulers, engaging in its civic life—is not the same as turning the country into a church. - It’s not Christians being politically active.
When a believer votes, speaks out, serves in the military or runs for office, that doesn't make them a Christian nationalist. These are acts of discipleship, not dog whistles for government takeover. - It’s not caring about moral values.
Wanting to protect life, promote justice, defend the weak—those are convictions rooted in Scripture, not political seduction.
What Christian Nationalism Is
Christian nationalism blurs the line between God’s kingdom and the state. It’s the conviction that a particular nation is God’s chosen instrument (i.e. America, Israel, or any other place)—and that its laws, culture, and identity must be explicitly Christian. It’s the idea that the flag and the cross are inseparable, that to lose control of government is to lose the gospel, and that political dominance is part of spiritual victory.
When the church trades its witness for political muscle, it loses both.
That’s not the gospel. That’s confusion. And confusion in this case is costly—because when the church trades its witness for political muscle, it loses both.
Why It’s Dangerous
Every time the church has hitched itself to the wagon of political power, it hasn’t ended well. Ask Constantine. Ask the medieval popes. Ask the German church in the 1930s. Power is a seductive mistress, and she’ll eat your soul while she whispers promises of influence.
Jesus did not die so that a single political order might survive. He died so that every heart might bow. The gospel is not dependent on election outcomes or policy wins. It transcends them.
Christian nationalism, at its core, isn’t about too much love for country—it’s about too little love for Christ.
Luther’s Two Realms: A Better Framework
Martin Luther talked about two realms (or two kingdoms): the spiritual and the temporal. God rules both, but he does so differently.
In the spiritual realm, Christ reigns through the gospel: by forgiveness, mercy, and grace. Hearts are changed not by law or force but by the Spirit through his Word and Sacraments in the church.
In the temporal realm, God rules through law and order—through governments, courts, and leaders—to restrain evil and promote peace. It’s still his work, but it’s a different kind of rule.
Confusing these two realms is one of the oldest temptations in church history. When the church tries to wield the sword of the state, it stops being the church. And when the state starts preaching the gospel, it stops being the state.
Christians live in both realms at once, but they serve each differently. The danger is thinking that success in one means faithfulness in the other.
So yes, Christians should vote, serve, and shape their communities. But they do so as ambassadors, not conquerors. The goal isn’t to baptize a nation but to bear witness to a King whose kingdom is “not of this world.”
We live as dual citizens: of earth, yes—but first of heaven. Paul assures us our true citizenship is in heaven (Phil. 3:20); Peter reminds us to honor earthly authorities (1 Peter 2:13–17).
Therefore, we can salute the flag without bowing down to it. We can participate in politics without turning politics into religion. We can speak truth without confusing it with legislation. We can obey God rather than men—without needing to overthrow them.
A Final Word
The church does not exist to sanctify the ambitions of any nation, party, or ideology. It exists to proclaim the crucified and risen Christ, whose kingdom comes not by ballots or bayonets but by Word and Spirit.
The gospel is not a cultural project. It’s not a strategy for moral reform or national renewal. It is the announcement that Jesus Christ has already done everything necessary to reconcile sinners to God. The church’s task, therefore, is not to reclaim political influence but to bear faithful witness to that finished work. The ultimate aim of the church is to seek and speak truth, not to see power.
When Christians remember the distinction between the two realms, they can serve their neighbors well within the temporal kingdom while refusing to confuse it with the eternal one. We can honor the magistrate without mistaking him for the Messiah.
America—like every other nation—will one day fade into history should our Lord tarry. But the kingdom of Christ will endure forever. That is where our ultimate hope lies, and that is the only banner under which the church marches.
So by all means, engage. Be bold. Seek justice. Fight for what is right. But don’t forget: the flag is not your savior. Jesus is. Caesar gets your taxes. Christ gets your heart. And only one of them can give you life eternal.
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