Among many Christians today, there is an effort to avoid the dangerous excesses of Christian nationalism without abandoning political involvement altogether.

They recognize that Christian nationalism can become problematic when taken to unhealthy extremes. They recognize that Christians should not trade discipleship for partisanship, make an “idol” out of politics, or place their ultimate hope in a political figure rather than Christ. Yet they hold to their conviction that political involvement can be good and important, provided that Christians remain spiritually grounded. There is, they argue, safe ground between being completely apolitical and becoming politically idolatrous. Their goal is to pursue political involvement in a way that is faithful to Christ.

I get the appeal. It sounds compelling. It sounds safe, wise, and balanced. Wanting a government that rules wisely, respects liberty, provides security, protects religious freedom, and punishes the wicked does not necessarily mean we have stopped seeking first the kingdom of God. Who doesn’t want wise rulers? Who doesn’t recognize the impact, positive or negative, that governing authorities can have on a society? So what could be wrong with pursuing political influence, as long as we take a wise and balanced approach?

But the New Testament approaches this issue differently. The Christian life is never framed primarily in terms of balance, but by faithfulness to the teachings and example of Jesus Christ.

As Christians, we have committed ourselves to discipleship. Our primary goal is to observe all that He has commanded us, even when faithfulness may appear radical or unbalanced to the world. When we talk about “balancing” political engagement with Christianity, we can unintentionally suggest that these are two separate spheres that need equal but different attention. But biblically speaking, that’s not quite right. The issue isn’t how much time or energy we give to politics versus prayer. The issue is whether or not our posture toward earthly authorities is shaped by the commands and example of Jesus.

Two Contrasting Types of Authority

In John’s gospel, he contrasts two different types of authority, each of which was at work in Christ’s crucifixion. On the one hand, John highlights the cross as the ultimate demonstration of Rome’s authority, that is, the authority derived from coercion.

So Pilate said to him, “You will not speak to me? Do you not know that I have the authority to release you and the authority to crucify you?”

Jesus answered him, “You would have no authority over me at all unless it had been given you from above. Therefore he who delivered me over to you has the greater sin.”

John 19:10-11

Pilate explicitly identifies the type of authority he possesses: the power to kill and to set free. Jesus doesn’t deny that Pilate has real authority. He recognizes that Pilate has the authority to kill, and that this was delivered to him from above. Shortly thereafter, Pilate exercised this very power.

So he delivered him over to them to be crucified. So they took Jesus, and he went out, bearing his own cross, to the place called The Place of the Skull, which in Aramaic is called Golgotha. There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on each side, and Jesus between them.

John 19:16-18

The cross is the ultimate demonstration of worldly authority. Death is the state’s final say. But on the other hand, John contrasts this with a different form of power – the kind of power we see in Jesus’s voluntary submission to the cross.

For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from my Father.

John 10:17-18

Jesus reframes his death, not as victimization under Rome’s authority, but as an act of authority in itself. It is the authority one has to choose to submit rather than fight back.

So at the cross, we see two contrasting forms of authority: the authority to take life, and the authority to lay one’s own life down. Ironically, the very moment when Rome’s authority was being demonstrated to its greatest degree is the moment that John describes as Jesus’ glorification.

And Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it also bears much fruit.”

John 12:23-24

In perhaps the greatest moment of irony, John highlights the sign above Jesus’ head as he was dying:

Pilate also wrote an inscription and put it on the cross. It read, “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.”

John 19:19

At the cross we see both forms of authority being exercised at the same time, and we see that these two kinds of power are fundamentally opposed to one another. One type of authority kills. The other chooses to die in order to overcome evil and destroy the power of death itself. The cross is both the ultimate display of Rome’s authority, and paradoxically, the very moment when God disarmed that kind of power that upholds the state’s authority (cf. Colossians 2:15).  

The implication of the gospel is not “Use Rome’s kind of power carefully, wisely, and for righteous ends.” The implication is “Recognize that faithful, loving, and obedient suffering is actually the ultimate expression of trust in the power of God, which is the only power capable of defeating the evils of the state.”

Two Contrasting Kingdoms

In connection with the two kinds of power demonstrated at the cross, we also see two contrasting kingdoms.

Jesus answered, “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 of this world.”

John 18:36

Not only did Jesus claim that his kingdom is not of this world, but he pointed to an observable fact to substantiate that claim: his servants were not fighting.

Notice the logic here: If his kingdom were an earthly kingdom, it would use force. But since his servants do not fight, his kingdom is established and defended through a completely different method than earthly kingdoms. Paul later reinforces this point by contrasting the weaponry used by the two kingdoms.

For though we walk in the flesh, we do not wage war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh, but have divine power to destroy strongholds.

2 Corinthians 10:3-4

The kingdoms of this world operate through fleshly means, while the kingdom of God operates through non-fleshly means. The state rules the world through the power of the sword – a tool which Christians are expressly forbidden to use (cf. Matthew 26:52; Romans 12:17-21).

The Example of Jesus and the Apostles

This is why Jesus consistently rejected opportunities to wield political influence. When the crowds wanted to make him king, he withdrew rather than directing their passions toward better or more righteous political ends (John 6:15).

When Satan offered Jesus all the kingdoms of the world, Jesus rejected the temptation rather than taking that power and using it to accomplish righteous ends (Luke 4:5-7).

When Jesus faced the cross, he could have called upon twelve legions of angels and triumphed over the Romans with overwhelming coercive force. He could have beaten Caesar at his own game. But he refused, choosing instead to lay down his life (Matthew 26:52).

The apostles led the early church in the same way. They did not organize to influence the policies of Rome or seek positions of power within the Roman Empire. Rather, they preached Jesus as Lord, called men to repentance, and formed churches of those who lived under a different rule (Acts 17:6-7). Although their loyalty to Christ often placed them at odds with governing powers, they continually overcame these powers by doing good.

Faithfulness May Look Unbalanced

The cross reveals two contrasting, incompatible forms of power. Jesus explicitly contrasts the methods of his kingdom with those of earthly kingdoms. The state relies on the sword to maintain its power, while Christians are commanded to refuse those methods. We see this in the example of both Jesus and the apostles who refused every opportunity to use the power of the state, even when it was made available to them. Christians are “sojourners and exiles” (1 Peter 2:11), “strangers and exiles on the earth” (Hebrews 11:13), and are warned against entanglement in “civilian pursuits” (2 Timothy 2:4). Throughout the New Testament, the issue is never “How can Christians use the power of earthly governments wisely?” The issue is faithfulness to the way of Christ.

For that reason, we must ask: What kind of authority do we trust more? Are we operating according to the logic of the cross, or according to the logic of the state?

Quite often, the way of Christ does not look “balanced” at all. Loving your enemies, blessing those who persecute you, and refusing to retaliate are not exactly “balanced” positions. Jesus was not acting “moderately” when he gave up his life on the cross. Taking up your cross and following him is costly. The call to discipleship is radical. Christianity is extremism.

The problem with seeking balance is that it reframes the question from “Is this faithful to the way of Christ?” into “Is this excessive or unhealthy?” That shift places human wisdom and cultural norms as the standard rather than obedience to the Lord. The problem with Christian nationalism isn’t merely its unhealthy and extreme forms. It is that it places trust in a completely different set of tools.

Jesus never calls us to balance. He calls us to seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness. He calls us to pick up our cross and follow Him. He calls us to the cross. And for that reason, we must be willing to ask “Are we imitating Jesus? Are we willing to lose? Are we willing to lay down our power, our status, our influence, and even our life?”

Instead of asking “Have we found the right balance?” we must begin by asking “What does it look like to follow Jesus in this moment?” Because sometimes faithfulness doesn’t look balanced at all. If the cross tells us anything, it’s that what looks like losing to the world is often the very place where God is at work most powerfully.