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by Pete Nicholas
When Jesus stood before Pilate, he was asked, “Are you the king of the Jews?” Jesus responded,
“My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting, that I might not be delivered over to the Jews. But my kingdom is not from the world.” (John 18:26)
Jesus did not say that he has no kingdom and isn’t a king. If he had said that, then to follow Christ would be to be apolitical and disengaged from politics. Instead, Jesus affirmed that he is a king, but that his kingdom is “not from the world”. Therefore, Jesus is not apolitical, he is counterpolitical. Because his kingdom is not of this world, his policies and practices will not neatly align with the world’s politics. What are the implications of this for how we vote?
Here are five voting principles to consider:
Particularly in a bipartisan political system like the US, and particularly on issues of justice (which dominate our current political discourse), neither party will encapsulate the biblical political perspective. God’s justice is bigger, richer, and fuller than any one party articulates.1. Therefore, you’ll always be compromising in some area when you vote. To fail to recognise this, or to paint one party as ‘the Christian party’ is to misunderstand the counterpolitical nature of Jesus’ kingdom.
In his book The City of God, Augustine of Hippo distinguishes between the heavenly city which is characterized by love of God and love of others, and the city of man is characterized by love of self and love of the world. He argues that our political allegiance should be an expression of our allegiance to the heavenly city.2
So, why do we vote? Social theory and voting data indicate that the vast majority of people vote for the candidate or political party who best represents our own interests. However, to live for the city of God, we should be motivated by what serves God’s interests and what promotes the ‘common good.’ Therefore, vote for what you prayerfully believe, with humility, best aligns with God’s interests and the interests of others.
Politics is always about making choices. How do you decide whether it is better to spend $1000 helping adults get jobs or providing education for children (for example)? Scripture gives hierarchies of values (consider, for example, the Ten Commandments and the six social commandments where human life (the fifth commandment) is more important than property rights (the seventh commandment). One way to decide how to vote is to think about the issues and the relative weighting that you should give to each one according to the hierarchy of God’s values. Notice that this does not lead to single issue political voting, but it does place a high emphasis on policies directly affecting human life, e.g. Abortion, euthanasia, displaced peoples, and poverty.
Character is complex to discern, but, particularly in a situation where The President of the United States (POTUS) carries a lot of power, it is important to think about alongside the policies that the parties/candidates campaign on. Character is more than just who seems ‘nice’ and is revealed by actions e.g. Is the person trustworthy? Do they govern with a concern for ethical and moral standards? How do they value and interact with others (not just voters, but the marginalized, stranger, and unborn etc.)?
Those who follow Christ and read Scripture should have moral clarity (because Scripture gives us that), but the ways to achieve various moral goals politically are complex. For example, every Christian should care about alleviating poverty. Still, the way to achieve that across a country as large as America, whilst not creating an unhelpful dependency on the state, and while empowering people who can seek work is complex. Christians may well have substantial agreement on the moral goals that are pleasing to God, but substantial disagreement about how best to achieve those goals. Similarly (and more negatively), we should differentiate between voting for someone even though they hold a moral position that Christianity is against and voting for someone because they hold that position. Lastly, it’s best to approach conversations and policies with humility, considering that you could be wrong.
To close, let me return to where we started with (perhaps) a sixth principle! Vote, and leave it at the ballot box. I have heard too many stories in recent years (either in the UK where I am from or here in the US) of families, friendships, and churches, divided by politics. Surely, this indicates that while politics is important, we are making it an idol. If Jesus really is the king (and he is!) then we need not buy into the catastrophizing that ‘if that candidate/party is voted in the world will end.’ The day after the election, Jesus will still be on the throne and his kingdom will still be advancing, regardless of who is in power. So vote. Vote prayerfully. Vote with humility, and leave it at the ballot box.
1 For further resources, listen to Pete's sermon on Isaiah 42 here
2 To dig further into this principle, read the article below: Rome is not our Home.
This article was first published on The Gospel Coalition on April 19, 20254
by Pete Nicholas
In AD 410, barbarian Visigoths sacked the great city of Rome. By that point, Rome had been substantially Christianized, so many people, pagan and Christian alike, saw its fall as a shaking of Christianity’s foundations. If the “heavenly city” of Rome had been defeated, was God defeated? Were the barbarian gods stronger?
Similarly, American political history is intertwined with its Christian history. As America struggles to navigate its place in a world with rising and competing geopolitical powers—one where the church feels the attacks of secularism—many sense that “the barbarians are at the gates” of America and the church.
In response to the sack of Rome, Augustine wrote City of God. He surprised his readers when he argued, in contradiction to flawed view of Christianity and to pagan thinking, that Rome wasn’t the heavenly city and that no earthly city or political ideology ever completely aligns with heaven. Rome isn’t our true home. Instead, Augustine wrote,
Two loves have made the two cities. Love of self, even to the point of contempt for God, made the earthly city, and love of God, even to the point of contempt for self, made the heavenly city. The former, in a word, glories in itself, the latter in the Lord.
Augustine went on to observe that these two cities are “entangled together in this world, and intermixed until the last judgment affects their separation.” His insights are perceptive and urgent for us in America today, particularly if we’re to navigate politics and the coming election well as Christ’s followers. Here are six implications of Augustine’s political perspective that American Christians should reflect on.
There’s a difference between something being important and it being ultimately important. Just as the sack of Rome didn’t mean the end of God’s purposes nor the church’s fall, so a particular political party’s success isn’t ultimately important but only relatively important. Knowing this truth changes how anxious, triumphalist, or despondent we are about the outcome of each election cycle, campaign, or candidate.
Augustine’s insights are perceptive and urgent for us in America today, particularly if we’re to navigate politics and the coming election well as Christ’s followers.
When we make ultimate something of lesser importance, we’ll sin to protect that idol. We have to win the debate, we get disproportionately upset at those who disagree with us, and we’re tempted to gossip and lie about those who don’t share our allegiances.
Notice how much of “Christian” social media is characterized by such behavior. Recognizing that only God and his kingdom are ultimately important will foster more godly, Spirit-filled, healthy interactions.
Consider, too, what we talk about most. Politics is a vital area where Christian formation is expressed and God’s purposes are worked out. But whatever the political cycle, politics isn’t the most important area of our formation. Even when politics dominates the news cycle, it shouldn’t dominate church discourse.
God has delegated real power to those in authority (Rom. 13:1), so we should be engaged, thoughtful, and prayerful. We should vote. It’s important to host political discourse in church because this area of life affects our formation and progress toward the heavenly Jerusalem.
Recognizing the power that those in authority have under God, we should also be praying for them, and praying with and pastoring our congregations regarding the moral issues of the day raised by their policies. Since neither political party fully represents a biblical moral vision but does exhibit common grace, such prayers and pastoral responses need to be both prophetic and even-handed.
When our church discusses politics, I make it my ambition for my congregation not to know how I’d vote (that’s easier since now I’m an Englishman in New York). I do this not because politics is unimportant but because it makes me more effective at pastoring people toward the heavenly city. Paul’s dictum “I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:2, NIV) should give us pause and lead us to think carefully before we express in church our views about Rome.
Since these two cities are, as Augustine wrote, “entangled together in this world, and intermixed until the last judgment affects their separation,” all political parties will have some planks in their platforms and some methodological approaches aligned with the heavenly city and others misaligned with it. Pastoring during an election season will rightly involve pointing out those areas of alignment and misalignment.
But as we do so, we must seek to lead the people in our congregations toward voting as an expression of their allegiance to the heavenly city (love for God and neighbor) and their turning from the earthly city (love for self and the world). We mustn’t pastor them to live as though Rome were their home.
During Brexit in the U.K., it was common for folks on both sides in the church to say, “I don’t know how they can vote for that position.” The implication is that a real Christian would only vote the way the person making the statement was voting. Such statements do little to foster a constructive and healthy community.
Charity is an underemphasized Christian virtue today, and to be charitable requires eschewing suspicion, cynicism, and laziness. It means good conversation and prayerful reflection to inhabit another’s point of view.
If it’s true the heavenly city is a place of love for God and neighbor, then it’s tragically ironic when those who profess they’re living for that city lack love. Christ’s followers aren’t consequentialists; the ends don’t justify the means. Moreover, our fruit reveals our hearts (Matt. 7:16). So whatever our political allegiance in this sometimes loveless world, let’s be characterized by love.
Living out these six takeaways from Augustine isn’t straightforward. It’ll look odd to those around us, and it’ll be countercultural. But Augustine reminds us, “Citizens of that eternal city, during their pilgrimage here, might diligently and soberly contemplate these examples, and see what a love they owe to the supernal country on account of life eternal, if the terrestrial country was so much beloved by its citizens on account of human glory.”
If those living for the earthly city and a perishing glory are highly motivated, how much more should those living for the heavenly city be motivated to live distinctively?
This article was first published on The Gospel Coalition on July 11, 2024
By Pete Nicholas
Nietzsche wrote in his book The Anti-Christ, “What is good? All that heightens the feeling of power, the will to power, power itself in man.”
This is a poignant example of what Augustine termed “the city of man” and “love of self, even to the point of contempt for God,” which is in stark contrast to “love of God, even to the point of contempt for self, [which] made the heavenly city.” Indeed, Nietzsche knew he was presenting an opposing vision for humanity and society, hence the title of his book.
While Augustine’s vision for a society shaped by the city of heaven still influences both the left and right of America’s political spectrum, we have in significant ways become more and more children of Nietzsche. He has become our teacher.
Here are three dynamics of Nietzsche’s philosophy influencing our politics today and some suggestions for how those living for the heavenly city might respond to a political world so influenced by him.
Nietzsche taught a hermeneutic (a way of seeing the world) predicated on power: “My idea is that every specific body strives to become master of all space, and to extend its power (its will to power), and to thrust back everything that resists it.”
The political left increasingly sees the world this way. There’s a strong concern for equalizing power imbalances and promoting liberty by removing roadblocks to social groups who lack power. These goals may be admirable, but theories have arisen alongside them with moorings in Nietzsche’s and Marx’s philosophies that view people through intersections of power and advocate a reversal of social power dynamics.
And while the political right may see itself in opposition to such an approach, populism’s rise suggests otherwise. For Nietzsche, the embodiment of the will to power was the Übermensch (the Overman or Superman), who embodied the ideals we now see played out in populist leaders.
Populism portrays “the people” (the populus) as weakened by corrupt powers—“elites” at the top of society—and by those coming into the populus from outside. Complex social issues are typically reduced to this corrupting/weakening narrative, with the Übermensch the one person who “says it as it is,” offering to clean things up and restore the people’s strength. If this sounds familiar, that’s the point.
Even when it has some explanatory use, seeing things through lenses of power can’t chart a constructive way forward. Power reduces everything to a zero-sum game. We’d do well to reflect on the bloody regimes of the 20th century that, whether underpinned by Nietzsche or Marx, saw the world this way.
The gospel is a hermeneutic of love, not selfish power. The foundational reality in the universe is Christ, “who, though he was in the form of God [and equal in power], did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant” (Phil. 2:6). Christ laid down his life for the sake of others, loving us supremely through his sacrifice on the cross. Christians should reject a “win at all costs” and a “winners and losers” mentality. Loving others isn’t the same as affirming everything about them; instead, love is seeking their good, which may require gracious disagreement. However, when we see the world through a way of love, we can envision a future of mutual flourishing for all, not just for the winners.
One of the problems with power being the bottom line is that it distorts truth. Nietzsche wrote in his Notes, “Against that positivism which stops before phenomena, saying ‘there are only facts,’ I should say: no, it is precisely facts that do not exist, only interpretations.”
What was “true” for Nietzsche was the interpretation of the group in power. This gives rise to a hermeneutic of suspicion. If politicians talk about the “flourishing of society,” we don’t think they mean what they say; it’s just a rhetorical mask that manipulates people into believing those who want to increase their power.
And it’s not just politicians—we also become suspicious of one another. This erodes relationships and the very foundations of civil dialogue. We should be alarmed by the rise of fake news, the blurring of boundaries between reporting and commenting on the news, social media echo chambers, and the prevalence of both sides of the political spectrum adopting tactics once reserved for propaganda in totalitarian regimes.
The apostle John describes Jesus as “full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). His grace and truth are fully revealed at the cross, where the objective and stubborn “truth” about our sin and his amazing grace meet.
When we believe this, we can be charitable to others while pursuing truth. We can seek to see the best in them while not being naive: If sin and our propensity to deception are so serious that Jesus had to die, how can we be naive? But if Jesus died to extend his grace to us, how can we not be charitable? Charity will look like seeking to understand others and fostering good dialogue, not because people never have ulterior motives but because we’re secure enough in Christ not to default to cynicism.
Like the erosion of truth, a hermeneutic of power relativizes morality. Morals are seen as mere values those in power impose on others. Nietzsche wrote, “The distinctions of moral values have either originated in a ruling caste, pleasantly conscious of being different from the ruled—or among the ruled class, the slaves and dependents of all sorts.”
Nietzsche concluded from this view that Judeo-Christianity was a “slave morality” that was harmful because it weakened society. Similarly today within large parts of the political left, Judeo-Christian ethics like the rights of the unborn and those with disabilities (and increasingly the rights of the elderly), the fixed reality of biological sex, and Christian sexual norms aren’t just viewed as outdated but dangerous, inhibiting our march to “progress.”
However, the relativizing of ethics also grips large swaths of the right who are too prone to overlook the character failings of populist leaders and who adopt aggressive and xenophobic rhetoric when describing those in their political crosshairs. In the U.K. (my home context) in 2018, Boris Johnson described Muslim women wearing burkas and niqabs as looking like “bank robbers” and “letterboxes,” incurring the ire of liberals but strengthening his appeal to his populist base. Similar examples abound in the U.S. during the last two political cycles.
How can we respond? If we live for a heavenly city marked by a love of God and others, morality can never be merely a function of power; power must serve love and the flourishing of humanity. This doesn’t mean we can expect people to agree with Christian morals, but we should be confident that, far from being dangerous, the Christian ethic is the path to flourishing.
If we live for a heavenly city marked by a love of God and others, morality can never be merely a function of power.
At the same time, we need to be acutely aware of the terrible irony that it undermines our witness to gloss over (or even justify) the moral failings of politicians who advance, in some areas, a Judeo-Christian ethical position. Humility, gentleness, self-control, honesty, and charity are to be praised in leaders with whom we disagree. In the same way, pride, aggression, anger, deceit, and self-aggrandizement should be lamented and called out in leaders, even in those with policies we support.
We’d do well to heed Augustine’s warning and exhortation:
While some steadfastly continued in that which was the common good of all, namely, in God Himself, and in His eternity, truth, and love; others, being enamored rather of their own power, as if they could be their own good . . . became proud, deceived, envious. The cause, therefore, of the blessedness of the good is adherence to God.
Or as Micah puts it, “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” (Mic. 6:8, NIV).
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