Begin with the Word. Not with opinions or pulpits padded by patriotism. Not with the theology of empire dressed in Sunday best. We start where truth starts—with the living, breathing Word of God. Because before there were courtrooms and constitutions, there was covenant. And that covenant has never been about domination. It’s been about deliverance. Scripture doesn’t stutter on this: God’s kingdom is not built with ballots or bayonets. It’s not something you vote in or legislate through. It is holy ground, not government ground. And every time the people of God forget that, every time they try to marry the sacred to the state, the result is the same oppression dressed as obedience, violence baptized in God’s name, and a gospel so twisted it barely resembles the man who died for it.
Jesus Himself laid it down without room for debate. “My kingdom is not of this world,” He said. Not once did He call for a nation to represent Him. Not once did He urge His followers to conquer politically. When His disciples reached for swords, He told them to put them away. When pressed on allegiance, He said, “Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s.” That wasn’t a vague suggestion—it was a declaration of jurisdiction. Caesar could have the coins. God laid claim to the people.
Even in the wilderness, when the devil offered Jesus power over all the kingdoms of the world, He refused. He didn’t even hesitate. “Away from me, Satan.” Power was never His mission. Presence was. And yet the Church today craves what Christ rejected. Power, control, dominion. The devil offered Jesus empire, and Jesus said no. Now churches say yes and call it holy.
This idolatry is not new. Israel once demanded a king so they could be like the other nations. God warned them what would follow—oppression, taxation, war, slavery. They didn’t listen. They got their king, and everything God said would happen, did. Prophets wept in the streets while kings built palaces. The Word became a weapon in the hands of rulers, and worship became theater for the rich. Isaiah thundered, “Your hands are full of blood… learn to do right, seek justice.” Micah said it clean: God doesn’t want burnt offerings. He wants justice, mercy, humility. But the people wanted a crown more than a covenant.
Jesus saw it again in His day—the Pharisees wrapped around Roman politics, using religion to keep their status. He didn’t bother with soft words. He called them whitewashed tombs. He didn’t try to reform their system. He condemned it. And Revelation? It doesn’t exalt state religion. It exposes it. The beast in Revelation is political power demanding worship. And the harlot? That’s the faith that climbs into bed with it. The Church corrupted by empire is not the bride of Christ—it’s a beast rider. Scripture makes no room for confusion.
And still, men have taken the violence of empire and claimed it was God’s doing. They wrote conquest into scripture, edited genocide into the margins, and called it obedience. But the truth remains—God never needed murder to fulfill His will. He sent prophets, not politicians. He raised up deliverers, not dictators. He parted seas. He didn’t need swords. He takes no pleasure in death. He is not the God of genocide. He is the God who said, “Do not kill.” And every time blood has been spilled in His name, it was man reaching for power, not God sending down fire.
History proves the point. The Crusades were not acts of faith—they were acts of war. Soldiers marched under the cross and slaughtered Muslims, Jews, even fellow Christians. The Church didn’t call for peace. It offered indulgences. Heaven for bloodshed. Pope Urban II told them, “God wills it.” But God never willed the massacre of children. God never blessed the butchering of cities. That wasn’t the Gospel. That was empire.
The Inquisition wasn’t about truth. It was about terror. People were tortured until they confessed heresy. Women burned as witches. Jews driven out or forced to convert. The Church took the tools of empire—iron, flame, fear—and called them sacraments. But Jesus never forced belief. He never strapped people to a rack. He never threatened hell with metal and fire.
It wasn’t just Christianity. Islam became empire. The early community in Medina was a faith movement. But by the time of the caliphates, it was state control. Apostates killed. Blasphemers hanged. Religious law became national law. And in the modern world, nations like Iran and Saudi Arabia still claim divine rule. Meanwhile, extremist groups like ISIS murder in the name of God, quoting scripture as they kill children. This isn’t faith. It’s tyranny wrapped in robes.
In India, Hindu nationalism is rising—lynchings, riots, laws designed to erase Muslims and Christians. In Myanmar and Sri Lanka, Buddhist monks, once symbols of peace, now incite genocide. In Israel, religious Zionism fuels apartheid, demolishes homes, and bulldozes peace in the name of Abraham’s promise. In Russia, Putin’s tanks are baptized by Orthodox priests. War crimes done under the sign of the cross.
And in America, we have our own golden calf. Christian nationalism isn’t coming. It’s here. Politicians quote the Bible while stripping rights. Preachers bless legislation that punishes the poor, the queer, the immigrant. Courts stacked with judges more loyal to scripture than to law. School boards pushing forced prayer while banning books. Senators quoting Leviticus while ignoring the Gospel. All of it claimed as revival. All of it soaked in nationalism, not holiness.
Let’s talk about the slogans. “In God We Trust” was never divine. It was born in the Civil War and made official during the Cold War. “Under God” was added to the Pledge in 1954—not by apostles, but by politicians afraid of communism. These weren’t acts of worship. They were propaganda. A way to mark enemies and control minds. And religion in schools? That wasn’t in the Founders’ blueprint. The First Amendment wasn’t about putting the Bible in every classroom. It was about keeping government out of pulpits and pulpits out of government. America was never meant to be a Christian nation. It was built to escape one.
Today’s Church forgets that. It wants state funding without accountability. It wants to run schools, hospitals, and charities but refuses to follow public rules. It wants Caesar’s gold but not Caesar’s law. It demands privilege and calls it persecution when challenged. It isn’t walking with Jesus. It’s trying to replace Him.
Let’s say it plain: When the Church ties itself to the state, it does not become more holy. It becomes more corrupt. Once religion grabs the sword, it forgets the cross. Once faith becomes law, it loses its mercy. Every time religion becomes the state, people die. The pattern is as old as time. And still, we repeat it.
Jesus never sought the throne. He didn’t march on Rome. He walked to Calvary. The devil offered Him power. He said no. The Church says yes. And it dares to call it godly.
But you cannot serve Christ and Caesar. You cannot love your neighbor and legislate their pain. You cannot take up the cross and wield the gavel of empire. The Gospel does not need government. It needs truth. And truth has always spoken from the margins, not the palace.
So here we are. The lines are drawn. Not between left and right, red and blue—but between empire and kingdom. Between control and compassion. Between religion that forces and faith that frees.
🌿
The gospel of Jesus Christ is not national. It is not partisan. It is not built with ballots, borders, or bayonets. It was never meant to sit on a throne of man’s making. Jesus said it Himself: “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36). That wasn't metaphor. That was line in the sand.
When religion grasps for power, it loses its holiness. When faith becomes law, it stops being faith—it becomes empire. And from Genesis to Revelation, God has warned us what that looks like. “They have not rejected you,” He told Samuel, “they have rejected Me as their king” (1 Samuel 8:7). They wanted a throne. God offered a covenant. They wanted a king. God gave them prophets.
But the people still chose crowns over justice, armies over mercy, spectacle over sacrifice. And every time the Church has followed that same path, the result has been blood. The Crusades didn’t spread the gospel—they butchered it. The Inquisition didn’t defend truth—it tortured it. Colonialism didn’t bring light—it baptized genocide in holy language. History is thick with the wreckage of faith welded to empire, and still we repeat it.
Jesus refused the offer of political control. “All these kingdoms I will give you,” the devil said in the wilderness (Matthew 4:8–10), and Christ did not flinch. He chose the cross, not the throne. When His disciples reached for the sword, He said, “Put it back” (Matthew 26:52). When asked about allegiance, He said, “Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s—and to God what is God’s” (Luke 20:25). Power was not His goal. Presence was. Truth was. Redemption was.
And yet today, Christian nationalism calls the devil’s offer holy. It wraps flags around pulpits. It turns Leviticus into legislation. It blesses courts that deny asylum, books that erase history, and laws that shame the vulnerable. It speaks the name of Jesus while trampling the people He died to save.
But the Word is clear. “Woe to you, whitewashed tombs,” Jesus said to the religious elite who merged God with government, “on the outside you look righteous, but inside you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness” (Matthew 23:27–28). Isaiah cried, “Your hands are full of blood… learn to do right, seek justice, defend the oppressed” (Isaiah 1:15–17). Micah said, “What does the Lord require of you? To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). Revelation shows us the beast—empire demanding worship—and the harlot—a corrupted church climbing into bed with it (Revelation 13). That is not holiness. That is blasphemy dressed in religious robes.
You cannot serve Christ and Caesar. You cannot carry a cross and wield the gavel of empire. You cannot love your neighbor while legislating their pain. The gospel was never meant to rule nations—it was meant to rescue them. It was meant to be a witness from the margins, not a mandate from the throne.
So let the slogans fall. “In God We Trust” was never the gospel—it was Cold War propaganda. “Under God” was not divine revelation—it was political strategy. These were not confessions of faith. They were signs of fear. The Founders knew better than many preachers today. Jefferson said, “Christianity neither is, nor ever was, a part of the common law.” Madison warned, “Religion and government will both exist in greater purity, the less they are mixed together.” They were not apostles, but even they knew what the Church seems to have forgotten: Jesus doesn’t share power. He walks through fire, not the halls of empire.
And yet, even still, Christ stands. Unbought. Unbroken. Unchained from the violence done in His name. He is not the God of nationalism. He is the Lamb slain before the foundations of the world. He still reigns—but not from man’s throne. From heaven. From love. From the cross.
So the line is drawn. Not between Democrat and Republican, liberal and conservative. But between empire and kingdom. Between the religion that forces and the faith that frees. Between the church that kneels to Caesar and the Church that kneels to Christ.
The gospel does not need government. It needs truth. And truth still speaks from the margins—not the palace.
🌿
Lord God, we come to You not with answers but with grief, not with pride but with repentance. You alone are holy. You alone are just. Our nation has confused Your name with its ambition, dressed its politics in Your Word, and claimed power in the name of righteousness while crushing the vulnerable. We confess the silence of the Church when it should have spoken, the compromise of pulpits that traded the cross for clout, and the way we have mistaken influence for faithfulness. Forgive us.
We lift before You those who hold authority in this land—judges, lawmakers, governors, presidents. You see beyond their titles. You know their hearts. Where they have hardened themselves, soften them. Where they have confused zeal for truth, bring them clarity. Let their policies reflect compassion, not control. Let their decisions serve the least, not the loudest. Let their power bow to Your justice.
We pray for the faith leaders who have been caught in the lie that power is proof of Your blessing. Break that lie. Correct them, not to destroy, but to restore. And if they will not repent, then remove their platforms and protect the flock. You are the Shepherd. Let no one lead in Your name without walking in Your Spirit.
We ask healing for the wounded—for the faithful pushed to the margins by religion twisted into empire. Let them see You clearly. Let them know what was done in Your name was not of You. Restore them with gentleness. Bind what religion broke.
Even for those convinced they were right while they did wrong. If there is still breath, then there is still time. Awaken them. Let their repentance be real—not show, but surrender. Let the Church remember the cross is not a weapon. It is a mercy seat.
And for the global body of Christ, bruised and scattered, we ask revival—not of nationalism, but of the Spirit. Let the Church no longer seek Caesar’s gold or Caesar’s sword. Let it no longer confuse government with gospel. Let it be the place where captives are set free, not where laws are passed to bind them further. Let it return to Christ.
We pray for those who are barely holding on—those who still love You but are afraid of what’s been done in Your name. Remind them that You have never joined the empire. You have always stood outside its gates, crucified with the outcast, risen with the forgotten. You are not the weapon. You are the Healer.
So come, Lord Jesus. Heal what pride has broken. Judge with mercy. Speak with fire. And bring this nation, this Church, this world back to Your heart—not through power, but through truth. Not through dominance, but through grace. Not through control, but by the wind of Your Spirit.
We ask this not because we are righteous. We are not. We ask it because You are still holy, still patient, still God.
-Tym Da Enill-
Amen.
You're right I looked up procedures for Roman crucifixion and yes, the soldiers would have removed him once they determined he was dead so as to make room for the next crucifixion. ✝️ Source: The history and pathology of crucifixion - PubMed
