Whilst Douglas Wilson has expressed support for the idea of Christian Nationalism, he has also indicated a preference for the idea of “mere Christendom.” By this he means:
a network of nations bound together by a formal, public, civic acknowledgment of the Lordship of Jesus Christ, and the fundamental truth of the Apostles’ Creed. I mean a public and formal recognition of the authority of Jesus Christ that repudiates the principles of secularism, and that avoids both hard sectarianism and easy latitudinarianism both. Easier said than done, but there it is. That is what we have to do, and we have to do it because secularism has run its course and does not have the wherewithal to resist the demands of radical Islam. Or a radical anything else, for that matter.[1]
This definition is helpful because it shows that the idea is not in competition with the concept of Christian Nationalism. Indeed, at this point we might be able to see why his position may at first glance sound different to Stephen Wolfe’s “In Defence of Christian Nationalism” whilst at the same time, Wilson says he would be happy if it was the Wolfe variant that took hold. Wilson and Wolfe are operating at different levels and coming from different disciplines. Wolfe’s approach might arguably be seen as a potential subset of Wilson’s, a model for one of those “nations bound together”, specifically the US.
Wilson goes on to say that:
“It is possible to argue for this without supporting an “established church,” which—in the form of tax revenues—I do not support. But in order for this to happen at all, the Church must be established, in the sense that the magistrate has the responsibility to recognize her, to convene synods and councils to seek her counsel, and to listen to her. The magistrate himself has the responsibility, as a public figure, in the discharge of his office, to believe in Jesus, Lord of Heaven and earth.[2]
This suggests that he holds to what looks closer to the Erastian position of Zwingli with the church being established under the direction of the magistrates or government. This would differ from an ecclesiocratic position where the state derives its authority from the church.[3] It also looks different to what we have seen defined as a “theocratic” position in Calvin’s approach where church and state separately derive authority directly from and under Christ’s Lordship. I say “Erastian”, not merely because Wilson talks about recognising the church, this could simply refer to an acknowledgement of her existence but because he goes on to give the magistrate responsibility for calling synods and councils.
We are also left with big questions about the nature of the church that the magistrates recognise. Are they expected to recognise all church denominations, so long as they conform to the Apostle’s Creed, or does the state chooses which church it specifically recognises. If so, under what criteria? Wilson does go on to say that:
Mere Christendom needs to be thin when it comes to the differences between Lutherans and Methodists, Presbyterians and Baptists, and so on. But it needs to manage to do this without thinning out the contents of the Apostles’ Creed. It needs to be thick there.[4]
This may indicate a leaning towards the former rather than the latter. However, Wilson does not explicitly spell it out. It is possible to have a “thin” approach to Presbyterian/Baptist distinctions when it comes to offering a level of tolerance but not to formally recognise a church. Further, whilst Wilson suggests that under his criteria, unitarianism would be rejected, he omits to discuss the ways in which other denominations may have hugely problematic and heterodox positions on the inspiration of Scripture, the historicity of the incarnation and nature of the atonement whilst affirming the Apostle’s Creed on paper. Are churches allowed to “self-affirm” or do the authorities have a responsibility to vet and assess?
Wilson acknowledges that a Christian nation cannot be established top down and externally only.
“A formal recognition of the Lordship of Jesus is necessary but not sufficient. More is required than paper commitments. All true constitutions arise from the people, and genuine allegiance to Christ is not going to happen unless there is a reformation and revival. In order for any of this to work, we must have countless preachers of the gospel, faithfully declaring the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ. The role of the government here is to stay out of the way, allowing such preachers free access to the people, and thereby encouraging them to have at it. If you don’t give a heck about the man with the Bible in his hand, as the Staple Singers taught us, just “get out the way and let the gentleman do his thing.” There is a straight line blessing that runs from free grace to free men, and from free men to free markets.”[5]
He goes on to say that:
“Culture wars should be fought in the culture, not in the courts. One of the central reasons for having a constitutionally limited government is so that one cultural faction does not get to cheat, using the force of law to skew the outcomes in their favor. Since law is coercive by definition, the areas in which coercion is allowed should be radically limited. The law should protect life, liberty, and property. After that, the alternative visions for truth, goodness, and beauty may freely compete. Using their own money, voluntarily donated, the secularists and atheists may build their own schools, write poems and novels, produce plays and movies, build cathedrals, compose concertos, and so on.[6]
This rather misses the point that culture war battles have been fought in the courts because it has been the courts that have been determining whether or not the state have overstepped their powers, what individual rights people will have and if a crime has been committed. This will remain the same even in Wilson’s Christian nation with regards to abortion, same-sex relationships, adultery, divorce and alcohol consumption.
Wilson writes:
“One of the more notable features of the life of our Lord, as recorded in Scripture, is the fact that references to the outside world are overwhelmingly political. When Jesus was born, Augustus was Caesar (Luke 2:1) and Quirinius was governor of Syria (Luke 2:2). Herod the Great was ruler in Judea (Luke 1:5) and wielded his power to the grief of many mothers in Bethlehem. Tiberius was Caesar when John the Baptist began his ministry (Luke 3:1–2), and Luke includes a number of interesting names when he dates the arrival of the forerunner of the Messiah. Tiberius was still emperor when Jesus died, and this political orientation is sealed by the fact that Pontius Pilate was included in the Apostles’ Creed. The New Testament is silent when it comes to the other outside celebrities. We are told very little about their poets, their actors, their singers. We know little of their architects from the pages of the New Testament, even though they had magnificent architects. No, Scripture focuses on the political rulers, and this is because it is where the fundamental challenge was mounted.[7]
This is a strange argument to make. It may be true that politics is significant in a way that celebrity culture is not, or indeed any other examples of culture. We are not told much about philosophers, doctors or theologians either. We are told about some specific emperors or governors either because of their active involvement in the story or to help us locate where in time the narrative is happening.
[1] Wilson, Douglas. Mere Christendom (p. 75). Canon Press. Kindle Edition.
[2] Wilson, Douglas. Mere Christendom (p. 75). Canon Press. Kindle Edition.
[3] This would have been the nature of Christendom 1.0 where political rulers derived their authority from the Pope.
[4] Wilson, Douglas. Mere Christendom (p. 77). Canon Press. Kindle Edition.
[5] Wilson, Douglas. Mere Christendom (pp. 79-80). Canon Press. Kindle Edition.
[6] Wilson, Douglas. Mere Christendom (p. 80). Canon Press. Kindle Edition.
[7] Wilson, Douglas. Mere Christendom (p. 83). Canon Press. Kindle Edition.
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