Thanks, God…We’ll Take It From Here

How conservative Christianity built a political movement designed to escape the most difficult demands of following Jesus

By LONNIE KING

I recently read a Washington Post article about Texas conservatives who are considering doing something once thought biologically impossible: voting for a Democrat.

Before you jump to your own conclusions, I’ll spoil the plot twist and tell you that the logic they’re using may surprise you. 

The source of this apparent political mutation is not Donald Trump, immigration raids, public-school funding, health care or even the various ethical adventures of Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton.

It is data centers.

Yep, data centers: those enormous facilities that consume staggering amounts of electricity and water, while producing noise, environmental concerns and growing anxiety among the people who discover that one may soon become their new neighbor.

One of those people is Twyla Lowry, a retired social worker and special education teacher from Temple. Lowry describes herself as a conservative Christian and lifelong Republican. She voted for Greg Abbott all three times he ran for governor. But she says she will not vote for him again.

Democratic candidate Gina Hinojosa supports a moratorium on new data-center projects. Abbott does not. For Lowry, that is apparently enough to break a lifetime of Republican voting habits.

Well, at least in that one race…

Lowry told the Post she still plans to vote for Republican Ken Paxton for the U.S. Senate rather than Democrat James Talarico.

That was the part that caught my attention.

She is willing to vote for a Democrat to stop data centers from making life in her community worse. But when given a choice between Paxton, whose ethical baggage requires its own luggage carousel, and Talarico, a Christian who makes the two Great Commandments central to his political message, she returns immediately to the Republican column.

Talarico has even run campaign ads featuring himself and his grandfather, a Baptist preacher, sitting in rocking chairs on a porch talking about loving God and loving your neighbor.

Apparently, that is nice and all, but…he is still a Democrat.

The mental gymnastics would be impressive if the consequences were not so serious.

Why Isn’t “Conservative” Enough?

The article left me wondering why people like Lowry cannot simply describe themselves as conservatives. “Conservative” communicates a political philosophy. It tells us something about how a person views government, taxes, regulation, cultural change and individual responsibility.

Why must “Christian” also be attached?

I think the answer is that “conservative” describes their politics, but “Christian” validates them.

Calling myself conservative says these are my political preferences. Calling myself a conservative Christian suggests those preferences possess an authority greater than my own. They are not merely positions I reached after weighing competing interests. They are biblical positions. Moral positions. Perhaps even God’s positions.

“Christian” supplies divine certification for the political agenda.

In much of Texas, the label also remains a cultural credential. It communicates that someone is respectable, trustworthy, patriotic, family-oriented and one of us. Very little theology needs to be discussed. No one asks for a detailed explanation of the Sermon on the Mount. The label does most of the work.

That may explain why a politician who speaks openly about Jesus and the Great Commandments can still be rejected as “too liberal,” while a politician with Paxton’s history remains acceptable.

Talarico challenges the equation many conservative Christians have absorbed over decades:

Christian = conservative = Republican.

If a sincere Christian can study Scripture and reach progressive political conclusions, then Christianity might not belong exclusively to the Republican Party. If loving one’s neighbor might lead someone to support public education, health care, immigrants or LGBTQ people, then perhaps the party platform and the biblical canon are not interchangeable after all.

That possibility creates discomfort. And if there is one thing American conservative Christianity has decided it should never have to endure, it is discomfort.

In This World You Will Have Trouble

Jesus told his followers, “In this world you will have trouble.”

Obviously, he wasn’t politically savvy and didn’t realize that’s not much of a campaign slogan.

He did not promise that following him would protect people from inconvenience, cultural change, economic uncertainty or neighbors whose lives they did not understand. He did not promise political control. He certainly did not promise that Christians would always remain the dominant cultural group.

He taught people how to live faithfully in an uncomfortable world.

Love your enemies. Welcome the stranger. Care for the vulnerable. Give without expecting anything in return. Surrender status. Carry a cross. Trust God even when circumstances do not turn out as you hoped.

The movement calling itself conservative Christianity increasingly offers a different message:

• Your trouble is evidence that you have not acquired enough power.
• If people say “Happy Holidays,” you need more power.
• If public schools acknowledge that gay and transgender people exist, you need more power.
• If immigrants arrive speaking unfamiliar languages, you need more power.
• If another religion builds a place of worship in your community, you need more power.
• If changing social standards mean your beliefs are no longer automatically treated as everyone else’s rules, you need more power.

Cultural discomfort becomes persecution. Loss of privilege becomes oppression. Political power becomes the remedy.

Jesus says trouble is unavoidable. Conservative Christianity increasingly treats trouble as evidence that Christians have failed to acquire enough power. That is not a minor disagreement over political strategy. It is a reversal of the faith’s moral direction.

Thanks, God. We’ll Take It from Here.

Jesus taught his followers how to endure trouble. We decided it would be more efficient to control the circumstances causing it.

Jesus told us to love our enemies. We built a political movement around defeating them.

Jesus told us to welcome strangers. We developed enforcement systems to remove them.

Jesus told us to carry a cross. We demanded religious exemptions.

Jesus taught service without earthly power. We decided the real problem was that we did not possess enough earthly power.

It is as if American Christians examined the methods Jesus prescribed and concluded they were not producing results quickly enough. Then they said, “Thanks, God. We’ll take it from here.”

“We will elect powerful people to protect us. We will write our preferences into law. We will control schools, libraries and classrooms so our children encounter fewer ideas that might disturb them.

“We will keep unfamiliar people at a comfortable distance. We will call opposition persecution and dominance religious liberty. We will make America Christian again, even if doing so requires behaving in ways that bear remarkably little resemblance to Christ.”

Then they called the result biblical.

Making Sure the Trouble Falls Somewhere Else

There is nothing inherently wrong with opposing a data center. These projects raise legitimate questions about electricity, water, noise, transparency and who benefits while local residents bear the costs.

Lowry may have excellent reasons to oppose Abbott on that issue. Voting across party lines because a candidate has failed your community is not hypocrisy. It is what voters are supposed to do.

What interests me is the apparent boundary of her political reconsideration.

When the consequences of Republican policy arrive near her home, party loyalty becomes negotiable. When the consequences fall on immigrants, uninsured families, public-school teachers or people targeted by culture-war legislation, the calculation apparently changes.

Her hardship justifies breaking ranks. Someone else’s hardship remains a political abstraction.

Perhaps that is one of the central distortions of conservative Christianity. It has not eliminated trouble. No political system can do that. It has attempted to decide who must live with it.

Jesus warned his followers that trouble would come. He did not add, “Therefore, elect the people most likely to ensure that the trouble falls on somebody else.”

The Great Commandment does not say to love your neighbor when your neighbor’s needs coincide with your property values, utility bill or political preferences.

“Love your neighbor as yourself” means my neighbor’s suffering should matter before it reaches my neighborhood.

This Does Not Make Every Democratic Policy Christian

To be clear, Talarico’s use of Christian language will not automatically make every policy he supports correct.

“Love your neighbor” is a moral commandment, not a legislative handbook. Christians can disagree honestly about taxation, regulation, abortion, immigration, health care and the proper role of government. A candidate does not earn immunity from scrutiny by placing two rocking chairs on a porch with a Baptist preacher.

That is political advertising too.

Talarico’s Christianity, character and policies should all be examined.

But Paxton should be examined by the same standard.

That is where the system often breaks down.

Talarico must pass theological, cultural, moral and political tests before many conservative Christians will even consider him. His understanding of Scripture will be dissected. His positions on abortion and LGBTQ rights will be treated as evidence that his profession of faith is fraudulent.

Paxton needs only to remain useful.

His personal conduct can be explained away. Allegations can be dismissed as partisan attacks, even when they originated with fellow Republicans. Character matters enormously until examining character might cost the movement political power.

Grace, apparently, is abundant for useful politicians and considerably harder to obtain for political opponents.

I am not suggesting that Christians are required to vote for Talarico. I am asking why a candidate who talks openly about loving God and loving his neighbor is so easily dismissed by people who insist their own politics are grounded in the Bible.

If identifying as Christian does not cause us to evaluate power, character, corruption, neighbors and self-interest differently, what information is the label supposed to provide?

Why Some of Us Are Running Away

I understand this world because I came from it.

I once accepted many of the assumptions now associated with conservative Christianity. I knew which party represented Christian values. I knew which issues mattered most. I knew which candidates Christians were expected to support.

Or at least I thought I knew.

What has pushed many of us away is not that Christianity asks too much. It is watching a political version of Christianity ask less and less of its own followers while demanding that everyone else bear more of the suffering.

We are told to overlook cruelty because the election is too important. We are told to excuse corruption because the alternative is worse. We are told that character matters, except when examining the character of our candidate. We are told to defend religious liberty while supporting restrictions on everyone else’s liberty.

We are told to trust God while building a political machine designed to ensure we never have to.

This may be the most anti-Christian development to happen to American Christianity in my lifetime. But, not because conservative Christians are uniquely sinful. Not because progressive Christians always get it right. And not because politics should have nothing to do with faith.

It is anti-Christian because it offers an escape route from Christianity’s most difficult demands while continuing to claim Christianity’s authority.

American conservative Christianity increasingly looks less like an effort to follow Jesus through an uncomfortable world and more like an effort to make the world comfortable enough that following Jesus is no longer necessary.

Jesus taught his followers how to endure trouble, love enemies, welcome strangers and surrender power. We responded by building a political movement intended to remove the trouble, defeat the enemies, expel the strangers and seize the power. Then, somehow, we called the result biblical.

Perhaps the greatest threat to Christianity in America is not that secular people have rejected it. Perhaps it is that Christians have created a political substitute that allows us to retain the name while reversing its moral direction.

Jesus told us trouble would come and showed us how to live faithfully within it. We decided trouble meant we needed more power.

Thanks, God…we’ll take it from here.