This Is Not That: Government

The Twin Lies

One of the most dangerous lies in America today is Christian Nationalism—the idea that the United States is God’s last great hope, and the Church and government must lock arms to preserve His kingdom.

It’s a delusion for one simple reason: Jesus never needed or invoked governments to carry His reign forward. His kingdom is not of this world, and it will outlast every flag and constitution ever written.

But the equal and opposite lie is just as dangerous: that America was never shaped by biblical principles at all. That freedom is just a secular project, stitched together by enlightened reason.

History tells a different story. America began with 13 colonies, each with constitutions requiring a declaration of faith in Jesus Christ. The Declaration of Independence mentions God four times and ends in a prayer for His providence. The earliest imagination of a nation built on liberty and justice wasn’t divorced from faith—it was fueled by it.

So what’s the truth?

America is not the kingdom of God, and never was. But it was built on the Biblical truth that people are free—not because the government says so, but because Jesus already did. And therefore government exists, at its best, not to manufacture that freedom but to protect the liberty that makes it livable.

And that changes how we see the Church.

Liberty Isn’t Freedom

This is where definitions matter. Liberty and freedom aren’t the same thing.

Liberty is the right to live how you want within the boundaries of law—to believe, speak, and pursue what matters to you without government interference. It’s good. Really good.

In fact, it’s rare in human history. Billions of people would give anything for the liberty we often take for granted. A government of the people, by the people, exists to make sure everyone’s liberty is upheld. That’s what America’s founding documents were built to protect.

But liberty, as valuable as it is, is not the same thing as freedom. Liberty gives you the right to choose your master—but not the power to live free from one. You can have liberty and still be enslaved to fear, shame, image, proving, and performance.

And the proof is everywhere. With liberty to pursue almost anything, we’ve built incredible wealth, technology, and opportunity—and yet addictions are climbing, anxiety is skyrocketing, suicides are rising, and even in the freest nation on earth, people feel trapped. 

That’s why Paul could write to the Galatians under Roman rule—and still insist that “for freedom, Christ set you free” (Gal. 5:1).

What’s wild is—he’s writing to people who didn’t have liberty. The Galatians were under Roman occupation. Their speech, religion, and rights were restricted. They couldn’t vote, protest, or “live their truth.”

And yet Paul insists: you’re free. Not because Caesar said so, but because Jesus did.

But here’s the tragedy: even in the absence of liberty, they were living like slaves. Not because of Rome, but because of religion. They bought into the lie that their status with God was based on their performance—Jesus plus effort.

So Paul doesn’t applaud their zeal. He pleads with them to wake up, asking: “Who has bewitched you?” (Gal. 3:1).

Now contrast that with the American landscape.

We live in a country overflowing with liberty—freedom of speech, religion, assembly, opportunity. And yet how many people, with all this liberty, are still not free? How many still believe their worth is tied to their hustle, their reputation, their virtue, or their politics?

That’s why Paul’s letter still hits. Because the same con is still running—it’s just wrapped in different language. The Galatians had no liberty but could be free. We have endless liberty, but often remain enslaved.

Justice Isn’t Control

Justice matters. The prophets shouted it, and Jesus embodied it. But somewhere along the way, we confused justice with control—believing it could be manufactured through forced virtue and state-mandated compassion.

On the surface, it feels holy. It looks compassionate. But it’s not real. 

Because here’s the truth: forced virtue isn’t virtue. Coerced compassion isn’t compassion. State-mandated generosity isn’t justice—it’s the narcotic of nice. It numbs our conscience with the illusion of caring while robbing people of the freedom to actually love.

Think about it: that’s exactly what slave-owning plantation owners did. They robbed people of time, labor, and dignity to prop up their vision of a better life—ironically, one that upheld their position and power. In the name of prominence, they justified theft. And it’s exactly what government officials do when they demand virtue at gunpoint through redistribution of wealth under the guise of taxes. The end never justifies the means.

Justice that flows from force is counterfeit. That’s why forced programs don’t deliver real equality. Imagine needing heart surgery and getting the second-best surgeon because the hospital had quotas to fill. Or boarding a plane flown by the second-best pilot because the airline valued appearances over ability. That doesn’t help anyone—it puts everyone at risk.

In contrast, justice that flows from freedom is real. When people are free to hire, partner, and collaborate based on skill and character—not quotas or coercion—you get stronger teams, better solutions, and real dignity for everyone involved.

And that’s exactly why the Church has always been at its best when it didn’t wait for the state to act. Free people, secure in who Jesus already is for us, created hospitals, schools, orphanages, and shelters—not because they were told to, but because they wanted to. Grace frees people to risk, to serve, to give their lives away.

The same thing happens today when free people take the initiative: nonprofits stepping in to care for foster kids, addiction recovery groups walking with families, food banks meeting hunger needs, and communities building housing co-ops for those priced out. None of these exist because the government forced them into being. They exist because free people saw a need, trusted God, chose to create, and gladly give.

In short: real justice is never coerced. It’s chosen. It’s not narcotic. It’s nuclear. And that’s what the founding documents of America made possible: the liberty for people to get creative, form services, and invite others to give freely where they’re needed most.

America Isn’t a Democracy

And then there’s the third word in our pledge: for all.

In a culture starved of civics education, we’ve raised generations to confuse majority rule with liberty and justice. That’s why every issue gets spun as: “Democracy is under threat.”

But the United States is not a democracy. The founders, knowing the frail nature of humanity, saw democracy as mob rule—two wolves and a sheep voting on what’s for dinner.

It’s good for the wolves. Bad for the sheep.

James Madison, in Federalist #10, warned that democracies naturally form factions that trample the rights of others. John Adams wrote, “Remember, democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts, and murders itself.”

So they didn’t build a democracy. Instead, they constructed a constitutional representative republic—a system where the highest law is not a king or a party or even public opinion, but the Constitution.

Why? Because a republic limits power, protects the minority, and insists that liberty for all is preserved even when it’s unpopular.

And thank God.

It wasn’t democracy that ended slavery. Across history, every ethnicity practiced it, and in America many defended it. It was a constitutional correction to the contradiction that all are created equal, yet millions were treated as property.

It wasn’t democracy that gave women the right to vote. Many opposed it. It was a constitutional correction to the contradiction that all are created equal, yet half the population was silenced.

It wasn’t democracy that delivered the Civil Rights Act in the 1960s. Vast parts of the country still supported segregation. It was a constitutional correction to the contradiction that all are created equal, yet millions were denied equal protection under the law.

These changes came not because the majority shouted louder, but because the law was right. That’s the beauty of a constitutional representative republic at work in the frailty of humanity.

So Where Does This Leave Us?

Christian Nationalism is a lie because God doesn’t need America to prop up His kingdom. Secular cynicism is a lie because America really was built on biblical principles—that people are already equal and free because of who Jesus is.

A government, made up of everyday citizens, doesn’t create freedom. It protects liberty so people can live the freedom they already have.

And that changes everything for the Church. 

Because if freedom is already ours in Christ, then the Church doesn’t need to chase power or control. We don’t need to lobby politicians, enforce morality, or legislate virtue.

Instead, we get to live as free people in the everyday flow of life—neighbors who give what they’ve already received, friends who carry one another, communities that create what love makes possible.

That’s the picture Jesus painted. Not a partnership between Church expressions and politicians, but a movement of friends who discover together what’s already true:

We are free.
And free people don’t need to force anything.
They build, they give, they love.