

I grew up in a deeply conservative, white evangelical home. My family proudly wears the red hats. They’ve cut ties with me in part because I’ve chosen to speak the truth about what their religious politics have become. But here’s what they don’t understand: I didn’t leave a rich, robust spirituality. I left the empire they married it to.
In the Christian New Testament, a group of religious leaders – who had connected themselves with King Herod, a philandering, narcissistic leader, who pandered to the Jews for political power and happened to be known as a great developer of cities. Interesting, huh. The story was told of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, here’s what this group of religious leaders said about their situation:
If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and destroy both our holy place (our religion) and our nation (our ability to make our country great again by taking power.)
John 11:48 NRSVUE
These hypocritical men were MIGA – Make Israel Great Again – because they believed Israel was the country their god cared about most in the world, and they believed their race and religion being in charge of the government would restore their country to greatness.
Sound like any other racial/religious group of people we know?
This week I’ve been sitting with the question: Why am I not in the red hat cult? Why did I step away when so many people I loved went all in on Christian nationalism and, like the religious leaders of the first century, believe our religion needs to be in charge of “God’s favorite country” so it can be “great again?”
It’s not because I’m better or smarter or holier. It’s simply this: I’ve always wanted to love people more than I wanted to protect an institution. From an early age, something in me questioned the rules that said love had limits – that God’s grace didn’t apply equally, or that my empathy needed to be rationed according to party lines.
When I was in pastoral training during the Bush years, I started to notice how tightly our church’s theology was tied to Republican talking points. It felt less like Jesus and more like empire. Still, I tried to believe that was just a coincidence. But then came Obama. And with his presidency, I watched the racism in my faith communities crawl out from beneath its polite disguise. Mentors I respected were calling him a secret Muslim anti-Christ. I thought: “Really? This kind, thoughtful man is your villain?”
I remember seeing Black men weep on election night – grown men, crumpling under the weight of a history they thought would never allow a Black president. That night told me everything I needed to know about what was sacred, and what was empire.
And maybe that’s why I could hear hard stories about systemic racism without getting defensive. Maybe it’s because I’ve always loved history, and history tells us plainly: America has never been the innocent savior we tell ourselves it is.
I left the Red Hat cult because I couldn’t reconcile my love for people with their hunger for power. I left because I believe justice is holy. I left because empire is not my home.
An important question for all who profess to follow Christ, need to ask themselves the question – “if American is a Christian Nation what kind of Christians should be in charge and imposing their theological interpretations into civil law? Is it the Christians who believe you go to hell? Or the kind who believe everybody ultimately will get to heaven?
Should the kind of Christians be in charge who think you should have loud guitars, drums and smoke machines in your worship? Or the kind who believe instruments are sinful and forbidden?
The kind who worship on Sunday? Or the kind who worship on Saturday and believe Sunday worshippers are going to hell?
The kind who read the Book of Mormon or the Apocrypha as inspired? Or the kind who believe anyone who does is part of a dangerous cult?
Is it the kind who think abortion and banning gay marriage are God’s top concerns? Or the kind who believe the Bible’s 2000 commands to care for the poor, the foreigner, and the marginalized actually mean something?
The kind who think Baptists are going to hell? Or the Baptists who think everyone else is?
The kind who dunk adults underwater? Or sprinkle babies? Or say baptism doesn’t matter at all?
With Christianity divided into one Catholic tradition and over 30,000 Protestant denominations, how exactly are you going to decide which “godly laws” belong in the civil code to impose on the rest of the country?
How long before Christian goes to war against Christian – as has happened in every country in history where religious law ruled civil government?
Any chance you’ve thought about this? Or are you just certain you’re the “right kind” of Christian and won’t be oppressed right along with those you’re oppressing?
Maybe it’s time we stop trying to force Christianity into political dominance and instead ask: What does love require of us now? What stories are we telling about who we are becoming?
That compromising partnership with Herod ended in Jesus rightly predicting that their religious system would collapse:
“Not one stone of that temple will stand on another,” he said.
If we want something more beautiful, more just, more human – it won’t come from reclaiming a mythic Christian nation. It will come from choosing something new.
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