When the Kingdom of God Collides with the Kingdom of Flags

By Pastor David Whitmore | Circus of Power | May 14, 2026

In the quiet hours before dawn, as I prepare my sermon for the flock at Grace Community Church, I often turn to the words of Jesus in the Gospel of John: "My kingdom is not of this world." It's a simple declaration, yet it cuts to the heart of what troubles me about the currents swirling in our nation's soul today. What happens when believers, in their zeal for influence, begin to confuse the eternal realm of faith with the temporal battles of politics? We risk not just losing our witness, but forfeiting the very humility that defines the Christian life.

This question feels especially urgent in light of a recent Pew Research Center survey, which reports growing public awareness—and widespread unease—about Christian nationalism among Americans. Surveys indicate that awareness of the term "Christian nationalism" has grown significantly in recent years. Yet the findings are sobering: Majorities of respondents view Christian nationalism negatively and oppose churches endorsing political candidates. A minority of Americans say the United States should declare Christianity as its official religion, with support higher among Republicans than Democrats. These aren't abstract numbers; they reflect a nation grappling with whether faith should be a private compass or a public cudgel.

As a pastor who's spent decades shepherding souls in rural Tennessee, I've watched this tension unfold in my own congregation. Many of my members are good, God-fearing folks who vote Republican down-ballot because they cherish traditional values like the sanctity of life and religious liberty. They didn't set out to wave flags in the sanctuary, but the pull of cultural wars has made it feel inevitable. And now, with various voices in and around the Trump administration calling for a "rethink" of the separation of church and state—reports that have been discussed in national media—this awareness isn't just rising; it's demanding a reckoning.

Let me be clear: I am no stranger to patriotism. My grandfather, a WWII veteran from these very hills, taught me to love this country with a fierce gratitude. He fought not for glory, but because he believed in a world where the weak could stand tall. He'd hum "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" while tending his garden, blending faith and freedom in a way that felt natural, not forced. But grandfather's patriotism was rooted in humility—a recognition that America's greatness lies in its aspiration to justice for all, not in crowning one faith above others. Christian nationalism, by contrast, often inverts this. It seeks to fuse the cross with the eagle, declaring that true Americanness demands adherence to a particular brand of Christianity. The Pew survey underscores how this vision is alienating even those who share its moral foundations.

Consider the data more closely. Surveys find that while some Americans say religion is gaining influence in public life, most still insist that churches stay out of politics. This isn't anti-faith sentiment; it's a cry for authenticity. Vox captured it well in their analysis: "Americans don't really want 'Christian nationalism.'" They want the gospel's radical call to love neighbor as self, not a platform for policy wins. And here's where some of the policy proposals being floated raise red flags. Tasked with bolstering protections for believers, the commission has veered into territory that could erode the very liberties it aims to defend. Recommendations floating in policy circles suggest easing restrictions on religious displays in public spaces or allowing faith-based criteria in government hiring—moves that sound innocuous but could pave the way for a de facto establishment of religion. Commentators have noted that this rethinking of church-state separation echoes the very Christian nationalist ideals the survey shows most Americans rejecting.

From my vantage point in the pews, this isn't just a policy debate; it's a character crisis for the church. I've counseled families torn by these divides, where dinner tables turn into battlegrounds over whether supporting a leader means overlooking moral lapses. Evangelicalism, once a beacon of personal transformation, has too often become a political machine. Christianity Today, in a recent piece, acknowledged that Christian nationalism is "on the minds of more U.S. adults," with some defenders framing it as mere "regular patriotism." But let's call it what it is: a form of idolatry that elevates national identity above the universal call of Christ. The Bible warns against this in Proverbs 16:18: "Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall." When we blend faith with nationalism, we risk building towers of Babel—impressive structures that reach for heaven but collapse under their own weight.

This malaise isn't confined to one side of the aisle, though the survey's partisan tilt is telling. Among Republicans, support for declaring Christianity the national religion is higher, feeding into narratives that portray America as a "Christian nation" under siege. Yet even here, the numbers reveal fracture: Only a quarter of conservatives embrace it outright. I see this in my church, where lifelong Republicans whisper doubts about leaders who invoke God to justify power grabs. These initiatives and proposals amplify these concerns. If its recommendations succeed in blurring church-state lines, we could see not greater freedom, but greater division—lawsuits over prayer in schools morphing into mandates that alienate non-Christians, including fellow believers from other traditions. Religious liberty, after all, thrives on the First Amendment's careful balance, not on favoritism.

And let's not forget the global context, which sharpens the irony. While we're debating whether to enshrine Christianity at home, reports from outlets like World News Group highlight escalating persecution of Christians abroad—from Nigeria's villages burned by extremists to China's underground churches silenced by the state. In such places, true faith endures without political backing. Why, then, do we in America clamor for the government's endorsement? It smacks of the prosperity gospel I’ve long critiqued—a belief that God's favor manifests in earthly dominance rather than spiritual resilience.

My heart aches for what this means for our witness. The Pew findings show awareness rising, but so is rejection. Younger Americans, in particular, are turning away, seeing hypocrisy in a faith that aligns too closely with one party's agenda. I've buried friends who lived quietly faithful lives, their legacies marked by quiet service, not loud rallies. They embodied Micah 6:8: "To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." Christian nationalism, with its triumphant rhetoric, often drowns out that humility.

Yet amid this sorrow, there's a glimmer of hope—a call to revival that doesn't rely on commissions or surveys, but on returning to the foot of the cross. Imagine churches reclaiming their role as sanctuaries of conscience, not campaign headquarters. Pastors preaching the full counsel of Scripture, urging believers to vote their values without deifying any leader. And leaders, perhaps even those in the Religious Liberty Commission, heeding the survey's wake-up call to protect liberty for all faiths, not just one.

This isn't about abandoning conservatism; it's about redeeming it. As we navigate these turbulent times— with summits in Beijing and resolutions in Congress pulling us toward power plays—let us remember Mark 8:36: "What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?" America needs believers who pursue justice with mercy, who love country without worshiping it. In Tennessee's rolling hills, I've seen such lives change communities. May that be our story anew.

In the end, the kingdom Jesus proclaimed advances not by force or fusion with flags, but by hearts surrendered to a higher King. If the Pew survey teaches us anything, it's that our nation is listening. Let the church respond not with defensiveness, but with the gentle strength of truth.

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Pastor David Whitmore leads Grace Community Church in Tennessee and writes on faith, character, and the moral dimensions of public life.

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