The Challenge of Political Discipleship
On October 11th and 12th we’re holding our National Gathering in Birmingham on the theme of political discipleship. Find out more and get your tickets here.
Whatever our opinion on the outcome of the recent UK election, there is no doubt that the political task facing this country is great. The election campaign only exacerbated the deep divisions and distrust in our society, and the summer riots laid bare the shocking power of misinformation and the volatility of our social fabric. The new government face formidable challenges, with a stagnant economy and vast domestic issues, all in the context of a world order that is unravelling – with terrible conflicts, a climate emergency, Artificial Intelligence, a surge in the far-right in Europe, a terrifying US election and growing authoritarianism.
I’m not aware of a point in my lifetime where the task of political discipleship has ever been more urgent. Whether we recognise it or not, we are all being politically discipled. We are, all of us, participants in society (in the polis) – from local churches and neighbourhoods to nation states. It’s not a question of whether we engage in common life, but how. We are all being formed by what we do (practice), what we believe (story) and who we share our lives with (community). These shape us to love certain things, they shape the version of the good life that we are longing for, and the shape the people that we become. This is true for any area of our life, including our politics. [1]
My experience after a decade of working with Christian young adults is that we generally have a weak culture of political discipleship in our churches. That doesn’t mean that our young people are not being discipled politically. It just means that their politics is being shaped by the particular ideological mix that their upbringing, peer group and social media algorithms bombard them with, far more than by the person of Jesus and a deep embeddedness in the biblical story.
Without a healthy, deep culture of political discipleship, we’re at risk of stumbling, with very good intentions, down a number of dangerous routes.
1) The Quietist route
Much discipleship claims to be ‘apolitical’. You can understand why church leaders opt for this. Politics is a mucky business, it’s divisive, far better to focus on the ‘spiritual’ and ‘private’ matters of faith.
This sort of discipleship will often be what Michael Rhodes calls ‘Romans 13 only’ – meaning that the entirely of our political theology is formed around Paul’s instructions in Romans 13 to obey those in political authority – resulting in a lukewarm, submissive endorsement of the status quo and withdrawal from meaningful engagement in local and national politics.[2]
The problem with this is that Romans 13 is not the sum total of what the bible says about politics.[3] Avoiding partisan alignment is wise for churches, but aiming to be ‘apolitical’ seems to imply that the bible has nothing to say about politics, which is simply false. Quietism often betrays a functional Gnosticism, dividing between the spiritual (which is good) and the material (which is bad or at least less important). ‘Worldly’ concerns don’t really matter, the priority is saving souls. Therefore, we don’t really get involved in politics.
But this spiritual/material divide is more influenced by Plato than by the bible.[4] Quietism means that people are not getting politically discipled in church and so they are either disengaged, or worse, their political discipleship comes predominantly from outside of Christian tradition. A reaction against this Quietism, but without a deep formation in the politics of Jesus, often leads to the following two routes:
2) The Constantinian route
Where we assume that Christian political engagement is about getting ‘our people’ into power. Constantine was the emperor whose conversion led to Christianity becoming the official religion of the Roman Empire in the fourth century. It’s highlighted by many as a crucial turning point in church history, where the church went from being a persecuted and powerless minority, to a wealthy, powerful and persecuting majority.
‘Christendom’ – the millennia and a half following Constantine’s conversion where Christianity enjoyed vast political power in Western Europe – was not without merit. Much that we now take for granted in the West – from human rights to liberal democracy – is the cultural inheritance of Christendom.[5] But I want to focus here on the deep flaws of the Constantinian route – specifically, the assumption that the political aim of Christians is to get ‘our people’ into power. There are versions of this on the right (Christian nationalism) and on the left (social gospel – the assumption that if we can enact the right policies, we can bring about the kingdom without really needing Jesus).
The problem with the Constantinian framework is that it is so out of step with the politics of Jesus – it is about greed for power, not self-giving love. It forgets that the way that Jesus becomes king isn’t through coup or conquest, it’s through the cross.
3) The Lop-sided prophetic route
There is also the danger of a sort of pharisaic zeal in the realm of politics. Again, there are versions of this on the left and right, largely fuelled by culture wars in the US and social media addiction which drives a group polarization effect – echo chambers which encourage increasingly extreme views and increasing contempt for anyone who doesn’t hold those views.
I call this stance the lop-sided prophetic because it embraces many of the important political dimensions of the biblical prophets – criticism of the powers that be, breaking peace with the status quo, showing up to reality. But it is lop-sided because it lacks the energizing and re-imagining role of prophetic hope.[6] It tends to be far better at tearing down than at building up. It also tends to lack the humility to self-critique and it lacks the empathy to treat those we disagree with as human beings. Often it comes from a place of rage, fear or insecurity rather than love and compassion.
It’s what Michael Rhodes calls a ‘Revelation 13 only’ approach – where the assumption is that all political power is a dangerous idol to be rejected – resulting in a lot of heated critique but not a lot of willingness to actually get involved and build the sorts of compromises and coalitions necessary to actually make change in a broken world.
In sum, Christian young adults in the UK receive nothing close to the holistic and healthy political discipleship that would be needed in order to navigate the contested and complex world of politics effectively, and to sustain their ability to be vehicles of God’s justice to the world over the long-haul.
Most of us have never been invited to imagine what deep political discipleship could look like. As Shane Claiborne puts it, we’ve not made Christianity too hard, we’ve made it too easy. We’ve watered down teaching on the politics of Jesus to stand alone sermons that say little more than ‘voting is good’ and ‘pray for your leaders.’ And then we wonder why young people are looking elsewhere for their political formation – and ending up uncritically stumbling into extremes of Christian nationalism or becoming enraged prophets minus the grace and hope of Jesus.
In part two, we’ll offer some starting points for what a holistic, healthy and sustainable political discipleship might look like.
References
1. James KA Smith, Awaiting the King: Reforming Public Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2017)
2. Michael J. Rhodes, Just Discipleship: Biblical Justice in an Unjust World (Downers Grove: IVP, 2023), 227-274
3. Esau McCaulley, Reading While Black: African American Biblical Interpretation as an Exercise in Hope (Downers Grove: IVP, 2020), 49-69
4. Tom Wright, Surprised by Hope (London: SPCK, 2007)
5. Tom Holland, Dominion: The Making of the Western Mind (London: Abacus, 2019)
6. Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2001)
