Discerning the Spirits

Michael Adam Beck and Isaiah Park

Part III—MAGA, Christian Nationalism, and Political Religion

This article is part of the series “Discerning the Spirits.” Below are the links to the series introduction, Part 1, and Part 2.

Introduction, https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/articles/introduction-to-the-series-discerning-the-spirits

Part 1, https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/articles/discerning-the-spirits

Part 2, https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/articles/discerning-the-spirits-part-2-full

Overview of “Discerning the Spirits” Series

Discerning the Spirits is an ongoing series designed to help pastors, planters, lay leaders, and congregations think theologically, biblically, and pastorally about the forces shaping Christian identity today. We offer this resource to help the church discern what is of Christ and what is not, so that disciples of Jesus may remain rooted in truth, formed in love, and faithful in public witness.

MAGA, Christian Nationalism, and Political Religion

Once the burritos hit the table, the hot bar at Tijuana Flats was raided, and the sacred fellowship around sacramental Tex-Mex was fully underway, we settled into spiritual conversation.

One of the newer members of the group spoke: “I grew up in a church where we learned not to talk about politics in church. I’ve never really thought about the social and political world of Jesus. I realize now my faith up until this point has kind of been a fairy tale. It wasn’t real. So it had no real political implications for my life.”

She and her two teenagers had recently begun attending St. Mark’s United Methodist Church in Ocala, Florida. All three shared the same reaction: “We’ve never really been part of a church like this.”

That assessment is not unusual. St. Mark's serves as the hub of a growing network of Fresh Expressions of Church, gatherings that meet in tattoo parlors, dog parks, inpatient rehabilitation centers, assisted living facilities, and yes, burrito joints.

Often, the conversations in these communities go even deeper than the sermons preached across the ecosystem. Last fall, the preaching team gathered for its annual sermon planning retreat. Jill and Michael, along with five lay preachers, reviewed the basics of preaching before sharing ideas for the upcoming series. Everyone votes democratically on the themes, and it is not always the pastors’ ideas that win.

The series they are currently journeying through, called “Resist: Faithful Defiance When Rulers Demand What God Forbids,” is based on the United Methodist baptismal vows and focuses particularly on the call to “resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.” It has become a timely exploration that collides directly with current events in the United States.

Idols, Empires, and the Politics of Worship

The series wrestles with the tension between the New Testament’s calls to submit to governing authorities and the equally persistent biblical witness of faithful resistance. We explored the irony that the same Peter who wrote, “Submit yourselves for the Lord’s sake to every human authority…” (1 Peter 2:13) also stood before those same authorities and declared, “We must obey God rather than human beings” (Acts 5:29). The same Paul who instructed believers to “be subject to the authorities” (Romans 13:1) was executed by those authorities for proclaiming another kingdom. Church tradition tells us that both Peter and Paul died as political subversives under Roman rule.

From there. we moved backward through the biblical story, tracing a long tradition of faithful defiance. We encountered the Hebrew midwives, Puah and Shiphrah, who refused Pharaoh’s genocidal order to murder Hebrew infants, an attempt at population control driven by fear that the dominant group was losing power. Because these women, whose vocation was to be life-givers, refused to become death-dealers, Moses survived. And because Moses survived, there was liberation, covenant, prophets, and eventually Jesus himself.

We looked at Jesus refusing to cease his ministry despite threats from Herod Antipas, whom he called a “fox,” before marching toward Jerusalem and overturning tables in a Temple tantrum that disrupted a corrupt religious-economic system intertwined with imperial power. We reflected on how political and religious authorities became “frenemies” in order to execute Jesus (Luke 23:12) and on how the apostles continued proclaiming the gospel despite orders to remain silent.

And, of course, we made a stop in Babylon.

There we encountered Nebuchadnezzar, the megalomaniac king who filled his empire with monuments to his own greatness, from the hanging gardens to the Ishtar Gate, which he inscribed as a testament to how he was, in effect, “Making Babylon Great Again”:

Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon, the pious prince appointed by the will of Marduk, am I … the untiring governor… who always has at heart the care of the cult … and is constantly concerned with the well-being of Babylon … the wise, the humble, the caretaker … the first born son of Nabopolassar, the King of Babylon, am I … the gates were in disrepair, but I restored them… I adorned them with luxurious splendor so that mankind might gaze on them in wonder.

But even that was not enough. He erected a towering golden image and commanded all people throughout the empire to bow before it when the trumpets sounded. We reflected on Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, who chose the fiery furnace over idolatry, violations of the first two commandments of their covenant with YHWH.

Then, one week after discussing that story together, a golden statue of Donald Trump was unveiled in Florida, accompanied by religious representatives leading prayers and ceremonies of “blessing” around it, carefully clarifying, “It’s not a golden calf.”

Political Religion

In our last article, we explored why MAGA (“Make America Great Again”) loyalty bends but rarely breaks. Here, however, we want to examine something even deeper: How MAGA and Christian nationalism intersect to form a powerful discipleship ecosystem, one that increasingly trains people toward forms of fear, domination, grievance, and idolatry that people of faith have resisted for thousands of years.

Previously, we argued that MAGA functions as more than a conventional political movement. Sociologically, it exhibits many of the dynamics of a sectarian moral formation: strong in-group identity, loyalty maintenance, rejection of external correction, and a charismatic center organized around Donald Trump. We also explored why allegiance within the movement remains remarkably durable even in the face of contradiction, scandal, or evidence. The issue, we argued, is not merely misinformation but formation. MAGA operates within a powerful ecosystem that shapes identity, belonging, moral perception, and social reality.

But another question inevitably emerges: “What happens when a political movement like this becomes fused with religious language and sacred meaning?”

This is where the conversation becomes even more urgent for pastors, planters, and lay leaders, because the deepest concern is not simply political extremism. It is the spiritual and theological legitimation of political extremism through Christianity itself.

Increasingly, scholars of religion and political sociology argue that MAGA and Christian nationalism function as a mutually reinforcing system. MAGA provides Christian nationalism with a charismatic protector figure, a restoration narrative, and pathways to institutional power. Christian nationalism, in turn, provides MAGA with sacred legitimation, theological immunity, cosmic meaning, and moral urgency (Whitehead and Perry, 2020). Politics becomes sacralized, while Christianity becomes politicized. The result is not merely political polarization, but the emergence of what many scholars now describe as a form of political religion.

This is not classical conservatism, historic Republicanism, or ordinary partisan disagreement. It is something fundamentally different.

The Varieties of Christian Nationalism

One of the most important recent analyses comes from Nilay Saiya’s work on “the varieties of American Christian nationalism.” Saiya argues that Christian nationalism is not one singular ideology but a coalition of overlapping movements with distinct theological roots that converge politically around power, hierarchy, and the desire to reorder American society according to a Christian moral framework. He identifies at least three major strands: charismatic dominionism, Calvinist nationalism, and Catholic integralism (Saiya, 2024). These movements differ sharply in theology and ecclesiology, yet they increasingly cooperate politically because they share common enemies, common fears, and a common desire for restoration.

The most politically influential of these strands may be charismatic dominionism, particularly within networks associated with the New Apostolic Reformation and Seven Mountains Mandate theology. These movements teach that Christians are called to reclaim dominion over major sectors of society, including government, media, education, and culture. Trump became especially significant within these circles because he was interpreted less as a moral exemplar and more as a divinely appointed protector figure, a modern Cyrus who would defend Christianity and restore national greatness despite his personal moral failures (Saiya, 2024).

This helps explain one of the most perplexing features of the movement: why behaviors that appear deeply incompatible with the teachings of Jesus do not necessarily weaken support. The issue is not Christlike character. The issue is perceived effectiveness in protecting the tribe and defeating enemies.

Christian Nationalism as a Rival Formation System

Within ordinary Christian discipleship, leaders are ideally evaluated according to humility, truthfulness, repentance, compassion, and moral integrity. Within Christian nationalist frameworks, however, the central virtues increasingly become strength, aggression, loyalty, dominance, and the willingness to confront perceived enemies. In this sense, the moral center of gravity subtly shifts away from the Sermon on the Mount and toward the protection of cultural power.

This is one reason scholars increasingly argue that Christian nationalism functions less as theology and more as identity politics sacralized through Christian language. Whitehead and Perry (2020) demonstrate that Christian nationalism is not simply correlated with religiosity or theological orthodoxy. Rather, it is strongly associated with authoritarianism, xenophobia, racial resentment, hostility toward pluralism, and support for aggressive social control. Importantly, many traditional markers of Christian commitment, frequent worship attendance, humility, compassion, and neighborliness, do not predict Christian nationalism in the same way and can even moderate against it.

Christian nationalism is not simply “strong Christianity” or “public faith.” It is a distinct moral and political formation operating alongside Christianity and often within it.

Apocalyptic Politics and Sacred Enemies

Recent scholarship also demonstrates how this fusion between sacred identity and political grievance can become increasingly dangerous. Studies examining Christian nationalism and political violence consistently find that Christian nationalism independently predicts greater support for authoritarian measures and political aggression, even after controlling for ideology, party affiliation, religiosity, education, and demographic variables (Wintemute et al., 2025). The danger intensifies further when Christian nationalism becomes fused with apocalypticism and hostility toward perceived outsiders. Piazza (2026) found that individuals who strongly embrace Christian nationalism while also perceiving society as collapsing and viewing outsiders as threats are significantly more likely to justify violent extremism.

Apocalyptic thinking fundamentally alters how political conflict is perceived. Politics no longer becomes ordinary democratic disagreement among fellow citizens. It becomes cosmic warfare between good and evil, righteousness and corruption, God’s people and dangerous enemies. Once conflict is framed in these sacred and apocalyptic terms, compromise begins to feel immoral, coexistence feels threatening, and aggression can be reframed as defense, purification, or restoration.

This helps explain why so much MAGA rhetoric feels emotionally maximalist: “America is under attack.” “This is our last chance.” “They are destroying the country.”  “Real Americans are being replaced.” “God is being removed from society.”

These are not merely policy disagreements. They are narratives of existential threat. And when people believe sacred order itself is collapsing, extraordinary responses begin to feel justified.

Jesus Loved Enemies. Christian Nationalism Creates Them

This dynamic also illuminates why Christian nationalism and MAGA often rely so heavily on enemy construction. Immigrants, Muslims, LGBTQ+ people, racial minorities, secular liberals, academics, journalists, and political opponents become framed not merely as people with differing perspectives but as existential dangers to the nation and its sacred identity. Rare or isolated incidents involving members of these groups are amplified into sweeping moral narratives, while contradictory evidence is ignored. Sociologically, this resembles classic processes of moral panic and scapegoating, where social anxiety becomes concentrated onto symbolic enemies.

The tragic irony, of course, is how sharply this formation conflicts with the way of Christ. Jesus consistently moved toward outsiders rather than away from them. He loved enemies, touched lepers, welcomed strangers, confronted systems of domination, and rejected coercive power. He entered Jerusalem not on a warhorse but on a borrowed donkey among the poor and subjugated masses that were crying, “Save us.” The early church spread not through domination but through sacrificial witness, mutual aid, hospitality, and radical solidarity across ethnic and social divisions.

Christian nationalism often inverts these priorities. Fear displaces hospitality. Dominance replaces servanthood. National identity overshadows baptismal identity. Political victory becomes more important than spiritual integrity. Enemies are hated rather than loved. And violence increasingly becomes imaginable in defense of sacred order.

A Crisis of Formation

This is why the challenge before pastors and church leaders cannot simply be framed as a political disagreement. It is a discipleship crisis. And this is precisely where discernment becomes essential.

The New Testament calls Christians to “discern the spirits” because not every spirit, movement, or moral claim that invokes the language of God actually reflects the character of God. Throughout Christian history, political powers have repeatedly sought sacred legitimation. Empires have always preferred compliant religion. The danger emerges when the church loses its prophetic distance and begins confusing the kingdom of God with the kingdoms of this world.

This is the central danger of Christian nationalism, not that Christians participate in public life. Christians should care deeply about justice, community, and the common good. The danger emerges when Christianity becomes subordinated to the protection of national identity, political power, cultural grievance, and authoritarian strongmen. Opponents become enemies of God, and power begins masquerading as righteousness. The result is not renewal. It is distortion. And for the church, the stakes could not be higher.

Empires, Idols, and Political Religion

Political religion is not a new phenomenon. Human societies have long fused political power with sacred legitimacy, treating rulers, empires, or nations as objects of divine significance. In the ancient world, political authority was often inseparable from religious devotion. In Egypt, Pharaohs were not merely kings but living gods, divine intermediaries within the cosmic order. To resist Pharaoh was not simply political rebellion; it was rebellion against sacred reality.

The Neo-Babylonian Empire operated similarly. Nebuchadnezzar II surrounded himself with monumental architecture proclaiming imperial greatness, from the Ishtar Gate to massive building projects inscribed with narratives of his glory. The towering golden image was the culmination of earlier, more subtle forms of idolatry. The issue was never private spirituality. Worship functioned as political submission, and refusal became an act of resistance against imperial domination.

Rome perfected this fusion of sacredness and statecraft through the imperial cult. Caesars were treated as divine or semi-divine figures, and temples dedicated to emperor worship spread throughout the empire. Citizens demonstrated loyalty through sacrifices, incense offerings, and public rituals affirming Caesar’s supremacy. This context radically reshapes how we hear the early Christian confession, “Jesus is Lord.” Such claims were not merely devotional; they were politically subversive. The conflict between Rome and the early church was ultimately about competing kingdoms and rival claims to ultimate allegiance.

Modernity did not eliminate political religion. It transformed it. Twentieth-century totalitarian regimes mobilized sacred symbolism, mythic narratives, public rituals, and charismatic leaders to generate quasi-religious devotion. Hannah Arendt (1951) described fascism and totalitarianism as forms of political religion in which the nation, race, party, or leader assumes transcendent significance. In each case, politics ceased being merely administrative and became existential, moral, and sacred.

This history reminds us that the fusion of religion and political power is not an anomaly but a recurring human temptation. The biblical tradition repeatedly warns against rulers, empires, and nations demanding the kind of ultimate loyalty that belongs to God alone. What makes Christian nationalism especially dangerous is not that Christians care about politics, but that political identity increasingly becomes invested with sacred meaning, moral absolutism, and apocalyptic urgency. At that point, critique begins to feel like blasphemy, dissent becomes betrayal, and political opponents are transformed into enemies of sacred order rather than fellow human beings.

Forming People for Another Kingdom

And this is precisely why the little burrito gatherings matter. Because while MAGA and Christian nationalism are sustained through massive ecosystems of media formation, podcasts, cable news, influencers, social media algorithms, outrage cycles, livestreams, and digital tribes discipling people for hours every day, the church often still operates with a twentieth-century model of formation built around a single hour on Sunday morning. The imbalance is staggering. People are catechized continuously by systems designed to cultivate fear, grievance, certainty, outrage, and enemy consciousness, while churches frequently struggle to create sustained environments where people can actually practice the way of Jesus together in everyday life.

Fresh Expressions offer a different possibility. At their best, they function less like isolated worship events and more like a distributed discipleship ecology embedded within ordinary life. Around dinner tables, recovery meetings, tattoo parlors, assisted living facilities, burrito joints, shelters, parks, breweries, and neighborhoods, people gather repeatedly throughout the week to pray, eat, wrestle with Scripture, confess, heal, question, listen, and learn how to follow Jesus together in real contexts. In many ways, these communities resemble a twenty-first-century recovery of the early Methodist system of societies, classes, and bands, smaller relational environments where formation happens through frequent contact, mutual accountability, testimony, and shared practices rather than mere information transfer.

This matters because rival discipleship systems are already forming people, whether the church recognizes it or not. The question is not whether people are being discipled. The question is by whom and toward what kingdom.

And perhaps that is why those strange little expressions cropping up in every nook and cranny of life feel so important right now. In a world increasingly organized around outrage, domination, fear, and ideological tribalism, they become small but real acts of resistance, spaces where people can slowly relearn truthfulness, humility, compassion, courage, repentance, and love of neighbor. Amid a political environment where the Nebuchadnezzar coalitions are unveiling their golden idols, these Fresh Expressions are social spaces where the politics of Jesus can once again become tangible, communal, and real.

Practical Responses

1. Name What is Forming You – Take inventory of what is forming you and your community during the week. Ask honestly, “What voices, media ecosystems, habits, and relationships are shaping our fears, loyalties, and moral imaginations more than Scripture, prayer, worship, and the life of Jesus?” Discernment begins with naming what is discipling us.

2. Create Spaces for Courageous Discernment – Create spaces for courageous and Christ-centered conversations. Whether in a small group, a Fresh Expression, a class meeting, or around a dinner table, invite people to wrestle honestly with questions such as, “What does allegiance to Jesus require of us? How do we recognize when political identity begins to overshadow baptismal identity? What habits help us love enemies, tell the truth, and resist fear-based formation?”

3. Recover Practices That Re-Form Us in Christ – Recover practices that form people slowly and deeply in another way of life. Prayer, confession, testimony, scripture reading, hospitality, sharing meals, serving neighbors, and worship are not peripheral church activities. They are practices through which the Holy Spirit reshapes our loves and loyalties. If rival discipleship systems are forming people every day, then the church must become more intentional about forming people for the kingdom of God in everyday life.

4. Take the Next Faithful Step – Consider one concrete next step in your ministry setting. This might mean preaching or teaching on discernment, beginning a small-group conversation on Christian nationalism and discipleship, examining how your church speaks about politics and public life, or launching relational spaces where people can practice the way of Jesus together beyond Sunday morning. The goal is not simply better analysis, but deeper faithfulness.

Invitation to Engagement

Please reach out for further engagement, conversation, and to provide feedback by contacting:

Michael Beck: [email protected] 
Isaiah Park: [email protected] 

References

Arendt, Hannah. The Origins of Totalitarianism. Harcourt, Brace & Company, 1951.

Gorski, Philip S., Samuel L. Perry, and Jemar Tisby. “The Flag and the Cross: White Christian Nationalism and the Threat to American Democracy” (New York, 2022; online edition, Oxford Academic), https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780197618684.001.0001.

Piazza, James A. “Christian Nationalism, Apocalypticism, Outgroup Hate, and Support for Violent Extremism,” Defence and Peace Economics, DOI: 10.1080/10242694.2026.2613902.

Saiya, Nilay. “The Varieties of American Christian Nationalism.” Politics and Religion 18, no. 2 (2025): 171–89, https://doi.org/10.1017/S1755048325000069.

Whitehead, Andrew L., Perry, Sanuel L. Taking America Back for God: Christian Nationalism in the United States. Oxford University Press, 2020.

Whitehead, Andrew L., Perry, Samuel L., and Baker, Joseph O. “Make America Christian Again: Christian Nationalism and Voting for Donald Trump in the 2016 Presidential Election,” Sociology of Religion, Volume 79, Issue 2, Summer 2018, Pages 147–171, https://doi.org/10.1093/socrel/srx070.

Wintemute, Garen J., Velasquez, Bradley, Robinson, Sonia L.,Tomsich, Elizabeth A., Wright, Mona A., and Shev, Aaron B. “The MAGA Movement and Political Violence in 2024: Findings from a Nationally Representative Survey.” Injury Epidemiology. Volume 12, Article 78 (November 2025), https://doi.org/10.1186/s40621-025-00633-6.