God is bigger than politics. Take Jesus back from Christian nationalism | Opinion

I grew up in church.

Not just Sunday mornings. Church was our schedule, our social circle, our moral compass. My mother made sure I understood the differences between Baptist, Presbyterian and evangelical traditions, and where our family stood within each of them. Faith wasn’t casual in our home. It was serious, studied and constant.

I attended my first pro-life rally before I understood how babies were made. I could barely hold the sign. I was told I was a Soldier for Christ. That I was in an army. That it was my job to save people. And if I didn’t, I would go to hell.

For years, I believed that was faith. But somewhere along the way, the tone shifted. Or maybe I was finally old enough to hear it clearly. The language of love gave way to the language of anger. Control replaced compassion. Political loyalty began to matter more than Christ’s teachings. Leaders who preached humility and service often modeled power and fear.

Many of us noticed. And many of us left.

Some left quietly. Others left shattered. Twenty years later, some are still working through the trauma. They’re writing books and making documentaries about the harm they experienced in spaces that claimed to speak for God.

We didn’t leave because we stopped believing in Christ’s teachings. We left because we couldn’t reconcile those teachings with what we were being asked to defend.

Now, something is happening again. Across the country, and here in Missouri, a rising wave of Christian nationalism is trying to fuse God to a specific political identity. It argues that America must be officially Christian, that faith should shape our laws, our schools and even our Constitution. Even so much with Sen. Josh Hawley stating: “Some will say that I’m advocating Christian nationalism. So I do. My question is: Is there any other kind worth having?”

Christian nationalism confuses the cross with the flag. It trades discipleship for dominance. It suggests that faith is strongest when it controls policy, classrooms and courts. But the early church grew without political control. It grew because of love, sacrifice and radical care for the poor and the outcast.

Scripture does not say, “Blessed are the lawmakers.” It says, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” It does not say, “Go and take the nation.” It says, “Go and make disciples.”

God is not a mascot for a party.

God does not fit inside a ballot box. He does not shrink to the size of a platform plank. He is bigger than the United States. Bigger than any nation. Bigger than our culture wars.

When we try to legislate God into classrooms or carve him into the Constitution, we reduce him. We turn the infinite into a campaign slogan.

Jesus’ message was not complicated. Love your neighbor. Care for the poor. Welcome the stranger. Forgive 70 times seven. There was no asterisk after “Love your neighbor.” No footnote about immigration status, sexual orientation or party affiliation.

Full stop. Love.

Christian nationalism risks hollowing out that message. When faith becomes a tool for power, it stops looking like Christ and starts looking like the very systems he warned about.

Ironically, this moment may also be calling millennials and others who walked away back to the table. Not to reclaim power. Not to win a culture war. But to protect the integrity of the teachings we were raised on.

We know the verses. We know the doctrine. We were trained well. Some of us were trained too well. And we also know what it feels like when those teachings are used to shame, exclude or control.

If the church is to survive with credibility, it must return to what made it compelling in the first place: radical love, radical humility, radical service. Not dominance. Not nationalism. Not fear.

God does not need the government to defend him. What he asks of believers is much harder. Love your neighbors. All of them. Especially the ones who are different from you.

If we focused less on controlling the nation and more on caring for our communities, we might finally show Kansas City what Christ actually taught.

That would be a revival worth coming home to.

Jessica Deterding is a family-focused Kansas City native with roots in the community spanning three generations. She works as a manager at a local hotel and is also the owner of her own small business.