On July 4th this year our nation turned 250 years old. How should the church in America think about this milestone?
Join me in a time-traveling journey to visit similar anniversaries.
Imagine visiting the year 223 to ask Origen of Alexandria or Tertullian of Carthage what they think about the 250th year of the Pax Romana. Nestled as they were in a season of peace, how might their perspectives be different than a quarter of a century later when Origen would find himself being tortured on the rack and the Pope and multiple bishops executed for not renouncing their faith?
Imagine visiting the year 1050 to ask Pope Leo IX and Michael I of Constantinople their perspectives on the 250th anniversary of Pope Leo III crowning Charlemagne as “Emperor of the Romans,” what many believe was the birth of the Holy Roman Empire. As both men fought for freedom from their respective Emperors whose protection of the church meant control over the church, what might they say to us about the deep entwining of church and state on that anniversary?
Imagine visiting the Commonwealth of Virginia in 1771, shortly before America was born, and being in the congregation when Baptist minister John Waller was assaulted during the middle of his sermon by an Anglican minister—who stopped his preaching by shoving the butt end of a whip into his mouth—dragged out by a mob, and whipped 20 times by the Sheriff. Imagine visiting Virginia Baptists in 1787 who were horrified that the proposed Constitution made no ban on religious persecution. Imagine being under the famed oak tree a year later when Baptist minister John Leland, who had the votes to win a seat at the Virginia convention to ratify the Constitution, told James Madison that he would withdraw from the race if Madison agreed to introduce a Bill of Rights that protected religious freedom.
After this whirlwind journey, let’s return to the present and ask what America even is in relationship to the church.
There is an image that comes to mind every time I ponder this question. Its perspective on our country is neither flattering nor demeaning. It is purely functional, embarrassingly so. But stick with me.
America at its best, as it regards the church, is a wooden platform on which an outdoor theater company can perform. It is a sturdy platform—4x4s sunk three feet into the ground, tongue-and-groove 2×6 planks, the works. It is well-designed, well-crafted, and well-preserved. But nobody comes to the outdoor amphitheater to see the platform. They come to see the play. That is not to diminish its significance. If the platform weren’t there, the actors would be twisting their ankles on dirt clods and keeping one eye out for snakes. The platform matters, but mostly for what can happen on it.
Patriotism runs amok when we celebrate the platform for its own sake rather than what it enables, when liberty becomes an end rather than a means. Patriotism becomes blinded idolatry when we choose not to acknowledge how brief freedom has been a reality for many in our land. We will not be celebrating 250 years of liberty this summer. When asked to deliver a speech on our nation’s 76th birthday, Frederick Douglass’ scathing “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?” gave voice to the enslaved persons barred from standing on the platform while others sang its praises. Black Americans, whose full liberties were not enshrined in law until 62 years ago, might argue that the freedom cake should have a lot fewer than 250 candles.
So what should the church celebrate this July 4th when our nation turns 250 years old?
We should be grateful for the good that America affords us, imperfect as it is. As I pastor believers from countries where persecution is intense, I am frequently reminded of the gift it is—not to be taken for granted—that our church members can gather on a Sunday morning or a Wednesday evening or in Home Groups without any threat of government surveillance or police intrusion. Blood has been spilled for this freedom and it would be the height of ignorance and arrogance to disparage the very platform we stand on and demean the sacrifice required to build it.
Parallel to this gratitude must run the church’s fierce commitment to focus on the play more than the platform. We exist to magnify God’s reputation. Our mission is not 250 years old but 2,000 years old, for it was the mission of Jesus: to proclaim and portray the kingdom of God. When platform repair supplants the display of God’s gracious rule we are to live out on that platform, the church inevitably compromises her witness. As appalled as we may be by President Trump posting an image of himself as Jesus or holding up a Bible outside a church after federal agents dispersed protesters with tear gas, these are gimmicks compared to Charlemagne forcing his Saxon enemies to choose between being baptized or executed. Political and militaristic power, on behalf of the church, inevitably service the king rather than the King.
So Happy Birthday, America. God shed His grace on thee. And, to quote a verse of the song we don’t sing, “God mend thine every flaw.” May the freedom you afford during whatever centuries you have remaining platform the ultimate story of freedom: freedom from sin and judgment through the Savior who laid down his liberties and bore our shame on the cross; freedom from the fear of death through Jesus’ resurrection on the third day; the entire cosmos’ freedom from bondage to decay that the King will enact when he returns to make all things new.
America, we pray for this day to quickly come when your services are no longer needed.
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