Too (Narrowly) Political, and Not Political Enough

Evangelicals are often accused of being “too political.” But this has never been my experience. Yes, I know some Christians are always up in up in arms over select political issues (read: abortion and gay marriage) or are overly anxious about losing influence in the pluralistic marketplace of ideas—and of things (read: creation science, prayer in public schools, and the censorship of “Christmas”). But from my perspective, at least in the evangelical free-church circles I have been raised in and theologically trained in, I’ve observed—and practiced—far less overt political engagement than the public perception of evangelicals would suggest.

In 2004, I spent a couple of months researching at a mainline Lutheran college. The intensity of political awareness and political engagement there threw up a striking contrast between the relative lack of such among my evangelical friends and colleagues back in Chicagoland. Granted, I was there during the pinnacle of a presidential election season, but I would not have seen the same political energy in my evangelical community back home during those months.

This is, of course, just one story and one perspective. But if it reflects some truth, why might this be the case?

Amos Yong and others have pointed out the need for a deeper political theology in evangelical communities. As Amos notes, political engagement in Pentecostalism has too often been relegated to implications for individuals who are following the Great Commission. In his view, politics has heretofore lacked connection to a strong ecclesiology. As I have suggested, this is no less true of non-Pentecostal evangelical Christians.

Probably closer to the heart of it, Yong rightly points out that evangelical political theology has lacked an adequate Christology and eschatology (and therefore an inability to speak to the entirety of the embodied, human situation in living contexts). An adequate eschatology derives from and builds upon an adequate creation theology; eschatology builds on the question, “why are we here?” and adds, “Where are we headed?” In other words, “What is the goal of creation? What does God desire for human community and for creation itself?” Any political engagement must probe our ultimate purpose and the shape and contours of our divinely-intended future.

Conservative evangelicals too often are escapist in our eschatology: this life is a blip on the radar screen; a temporary dwelling place, so inferior to our eternal home that it’s not much worth caring about or investing in. The bank of “heaven” is where we like to put our resources. Thankfully, the work of N.T. Wright and others has influenced evangelical thinking to the point that we are reconsidering this planet and even political life as something worth investing our time and resources toward. A continualist eschatology brings us closer to the mind of the biblical prophets, whose eschatological vision was viscerally physical (see Isaiah 11, for example). Like the Hebrew prophets, Jesus’ vision of salvation and of the Kingdom was embodied, concrete, and visceral. It involved food, freedom, and a healed creation.  

Eschatological escapism works well for those of us who have it pretty good. But as the economy continues to dawdle and as the middle class continues to shrink toward obsolescence and as the church loses more and more social influence, one positive result might be the realization that political engagement is worth our time—not only our hands-on practice but our collective and sustained, theological reflection.

In his post, Williams asks, “Before adopting an ideological position, every Christian must ask himself, what is God’s will for the government? What direction does biblical text provide for the major policy questions of the day?” I want to emphasize that the question of “God’s will” runs deep and wide, from creation theology all the way to eschatological fulfillment—and everything in between. But our theological imaginations will be most exercised if we start from the end, as much as from the beginning.

There are no quick and easy answers to the questions of political involvement. Once God’s will for creation is established as an important theological principle for political action, there is still the problem of determining what God’s will is, what God desires for creation and how best to get there. To make matters more complex, as a number of commentators have pointed out (e.g. Jeannine Brown), there is a deeply contextual–and therefore variable–element to political engagement. Further, so many political issues seem like aporia, philosophical and social puzzles with many sides and many valid arguments, but no clear solutions. It’s tempting to slide back into quietism. Let’s just worry about “church stuff.”

Along with ecclesiology and eschatology, there are of course other theological loci that require some thought in order to achieve a fully-orbed political theology of the kind that many evangelicals are now calling for: Anthropology (What constitutes the image of God and how does politics build on and cultivate the image of God in humanity?); Christology (who is the Christ and how does the incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection inform political commitments and judgments?); and Soteriology (what is salvation and how can our political actions help, hinder, or in other ways witness to the salvation that God brings in Christ as the Kingdom of God takes root in the world).

As any evangelical will affirm, only God can—and will—bring about the Kingdom. Social and political action by human agency and imagination cannot and will not usher it in. But there is no reason we should not begin to think a little harder about the ways in which our political involvements (or lack thereof) connect to the greater purposes of God for creation.