This Is Not That: Government
What does a look at government have to do with the conversation of Church? Well, in our current society, more than you might think. When the lines blur, the very freedom both were meant to protect gets distorted.
Confuse the two, and you end up with neither: a government acting like a church, and a church acting like a government—both missing the point.
That’s the muddle this piece hopes to name, so we can finally step out of it.
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 government—and never invoked it—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 wasn’t started by Christians, or 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 create freedom but to safeguard the space where freedom can be lived.
To see what I mean, let’s hone in on one line: “Liberty and justice for all.”
Liberty Isn’t Freedom
This is where definitions matter. Liberty and freedom aren’t the same thing. And when you confuse the two, it becomes its own kind of hell.
Liberty is the right to live as you choose within the boundaries of law—to believe, speak, and pursue what matters to you without government interference. It’s good. Which is why the Constitution exists to protect it.
But freedom is something different. It’s not independence, but dependence on who Jesus already is for us (1 Cor. 1:30). It’s upside-down. It’s not the power to become something. It’s the rest of already being someone.
That’s why 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. And the proof is everywhere.
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 performance—Jesus plus effort.
So Paul doesn’t applaud their zeal. He rebukes them with a question: “Who has bewitched you?” (Gal. 3:1).
Now contrast that with the American landscape and you see 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 liberty protected by law, but many still remain enslaved.
Justice Isn’t Control
Justice matters. The prophets shouted it, and Jesus embodied it. But somewhere along the way, we swapped justice—fair treatment under the law—for control—the forced pursuit of equal outcomes instead of equal opportunity.
On the surface, it feels holy. It looks compassionate. But it isn’t 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.
History proves it. Plantation owners 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 the same thing happens when government officials demand virtue at gunpoint through taxes—especially for promises that have no basis in the Constitution or the Scriptures.
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 and robs dignity from those still working to earn the roles they desire.
By contrast, the Church has always been at its best when it didn’t wait for the state to act. Free people, secure in Jesus, 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.
And the same thing is still happening today when free people take initiative: nonprofits stepping in to provide healthcare to those in need, scholarships for education, job fairs, addiction recovery groups, 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 gave gladly.
In short: real compassion 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 now have generations confusing majority rule with liberty and justice. That’s why every issue that rakes against a popular demand 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 the ability for 51% to enslave 49% of society. It’s 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.
Because 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 human nature.
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.