The Dubious Rise of Christian Nationalism in Texas

In a world where “In God We Trust” meets “But Only On My Terms,” and where the Ten Commandments are followed with the enthusiasm of a diet plan that’s forgotten by Tuesday, we find the grand circus of Christian nationalism. This is a growing belief among several segments of the population within our Great State of Texas (and the country, but I am choosing to focus on Texas) where the most prominent intention of this group is to elevate Christianity in public life by indelibly intertwining American and Christian values, symbols, and identity. Not content to confine their discussions to the religious realm, this group walks the tightrope of faith and politics with all the grace of a giraffe on roller skates. In one corner, we have the knights in shining armor, jousting for divine right and saintly approval. In the other, we have the digitally savvy, hashtag-loving, smartphone-wielding patriots who think the Crusades were just a really intense episode of "Game of Thrones."

"Now it comes to this; it's like we're back in the Dark Ages. From the Middle East to the Middle West, it's a world of superstition."

Let's start out with the ultimate theory of "I'm better than you", Divine Right.

In medieval times, if you wanted to be a ruler, you had to be chosen by God. It was like the ultimate divine lottery — "Congratulations, your name was picked by the Almighty! Here’s a crown, a kingdom, and a very large dragon to slay." The divine right of kings was the medieval way of saying, “God told me I’m in charge, so if you have a problem, take it up with Him — or a very busy priest.” The medieval Christian nationalists were big on pomp and circumstance. Crowns, scepters, and the occasional holy relic were the original symbols of national pride. If you wanted to feel patriotic, just head over to the nearest cathedral, make a donation, and pray for a little less plundering.

Modern Christian nationalists are less about divine rights and more about divine “likes.” Forget crowns and scepters — now it’s all about hashtags and retweets. You don’t need to be anointed by God; you just need a viral video. If medieval nationalism was about divine appointment, modern nationalism is about divine approval — on social media.

"We can only grow the way the wind blows on a bare and weathered shore. We can only bow to the here and now in our elemental war."

Christian nationalists are known for their love of quoting Jesus’ famous line, “Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s.” [Matt 22:21] This, of course, is conveniently interpreted to mean: “Pay your taxes and don’t complain too much.” Yet, they somehow overlook that this phrase was about respecting governmental authority, not using it to impose their personal religious views on everyone else. So, while they’re all for “rendering” their taxes to Caesar, they’re not so keen on rendering any respect to Caesar’s secular policies. It’s as if they think the divine commandment was really just a suggestion — one that can be ignored when it conflicts with their desire to influence every aspect of public life.

Christian nationalists also advocate for free-market principles and limited government intervention, proudly declaring that the invisible hand of the market is guided by divine providence. Simultaneously, they champion the idea that Christian values should be reflected in social policies, conveniently forgetting that charity and compassion are often funded by government programs rather than the invisible hand of the market. So, they endorse capitalism with all its inherent inequalities while simultaneously preaching the virtues of generosity and social justice.

"Now it's come to this, wide-eyed armies of the faithful. From the Middle East to the Middle West, pray, and pass the ammunition."

The inconsistency is almost Shakespearean. They’ll quote the Bible to decry the immorality of others, only to turn around and champion the “Christian values” of the very people they’re critiquing. It’s a bit like saying, “I’m not judging you; I’m just loudly expressing my disapproval.” In today’s world, modern Christian nationalists wield social media like a double-edged sword. The contemporary witch hunt involves digital shaming and online boycotts. It’s as if the medieval Inquisition took a sabbatical, returned, and decided to go virtual. “If you don’t share our views, we’ll unfollow you, and you’ll never work in this town again!”

The medieval Crusades were essentially the 12th-century equivalent of a cross-country family vacation — minus the relaxing and more focused on conquering lands. Picture it: knights in full armor, rolling out in a massive convoy, all to reclaim the Holy Land. Think of it as a very aggressive travel blog, complete with a lot of casualties and questionable maps.

Instead of medieval battles, modern nationalists engage in a series of hashtag battles. Instead of donning armor, they brandish keyboards and smartphones. The modern crusade involves fighting for “traditional values” with the fervor of someone defending the last slice of pizza at a party. Their holy land is the public square, and their weapons are memes and viral videos.

Christian nationalists are big fans of “Love Thy Neighbor.” [Mark 12:31] They even make it a central tenet of their faith. However, this divine commandment often seems to come with a fine print that reads: “Unless your neighbor is of a different political persuasion, ethnic background, or has an inconveniently different set of morals. Then, feel free to give them the cold shoulder—or the heated argument.” One moment, you’ll find them posting on social media about how Jesus would totally support their views on immigration and social policy. The next, they’re crafting arguments that make you wonder if they’ve accidentally swapped the New Testament with a political manifesto.

And then, there's the classic “Separation of Church and State” debate. Christian nationalists often argue that the separation of church and state is a liberal conspiracy against religious freedom. They’ll claim that the Founding Fathers never intended for America to be secular and that any attempt to keep religion out of politics is a betrayal of the nation’s Christian roots. Meanwhile, they’re perfectly fine with their interpretation of Christianity being used to shape laws and public policies. It’s like saying, “We want our religion everywhere in government, but please don’t call it a theocracy — that sounds too formal.”

"Now it comes to this, hollow speeches of mass deception, from the Middle East to the Middle West, it's a plague that resist all science."

There are, at the very least, 10 different major Christian denominations just within our Great State of Texas. For most of them, the only tenet of the Christian faith upon which they all seem to agree to is the idea that "Jesus Christ died to save us from our sins". Within every theology on this planet, there are always those who believe that theirs is the only "one true way" and that everyone else is a heretic. So, who (if anyone) is actually correct, and whose belief system should we enact into law?

"So many people think that way. You're going to watch what you say to them, and others, too who don't seem to see things the way you do."

Both medieval and modern Christian nationalists have their own flair. The medieval lot had jousts, holy relics, and cathedrals. Their nationalism was grandiose and very, very loud. Modern nationalists, on the other hand, are much quieter in their enthusiasm but just as intense in their pursuit of moral victories. Their battleground is digital, their weapons are memes, and their ultimate goal is, well, a little less clear but equally fervent.

If the "truth" of theism (i.e., a belief in the existence of at least one god) is indeed as "plain and graspable" as those who advocate for its official institution claim it to be, then I must ask why it has, throughout history and regardless of any specific theology, relied so heavily on non-rational actions to convince the masses of their 'righteousness'. There are multiple instances throughout the historical records of Europe and yes, even America, which illustrate the deliberate intransigence of Christian thought, even among other Christians: The Crusades, the Oxford Martyrs (1555), the Salem Witch Trials (1692), and even late 18th century New England laws specifically written to curtail the immigration of Catholics to the Americas and dispossess those already dwelling there.

Wherever religious authorities have had the political power to do so (and have found that the threat of otherworldly hellfire to have somewhat lost its efficacy), they create a literal (or figurative) simulacrum - a very worldly inferno to ready the heretic for the inferno that's to come in Hades - reducing heretics to literal ashes in full view of anybody else who might have the temerity to question the authority (and compassion) of the church.

"Like the solitary pine on bare wind-blasted shore, we can only grow the wind blows in our elemental war."

So, there you have it, folks — medieval and modern Christian nationalism. Whether it’s ruling by divine right or tweeting divine wisdom, the quest for a nation that aligns with one’s own values remains as timeless as it is entertaining. In the grand comedy of Christian nationalism, the script is filled with delightful inconsistencies, charming contradictions, and a flair for theatricality. The central message seems to be that while Christianity is a guiding light for personal conduct, it can conveniently take a backseat when it comes to public policy, social criticism, or interpreting the laws of the land.