Perhaps you’ve heard the tragic tale of Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody. The oft-circulated folk parable goes like this:

There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it. Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it. Somebody got angry about that, because it was Everybody’s job. Everybody thought Anybody could do it, but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn’t do it. It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have.

The American Church finds itself in such a situation today as we careen towards Election Day 2024. Recent cycles remind us just how hairsplittingly thin our electoral margins can be in federal races, with several thousand votes in key bell-weather settings capable of directing the course of entire races. Yet it’s in this context that an estimated 41 million Evangelicals (roughly half of the US Evangelical population) are planning not to vote in what by any account will be recorded as one of the most memorable, consequential, and unprecedented presidential contests in our republic’s relatively short history. 

All this raises a fundamental question: what is to be the Christian’s posture towards civil government? To borrow from Richard Niebuhr’s framework regarding culture—is the Christian stance in opposition to government and politics? Do the Christian and the state stand inherently at odds in a paradoxical dualism? Does Christianity transform politics through the influence of the gospel? Is the Christian located above government, battling culture and asserting Christ’s dominance? Or is the Christian, perhaps, to be absorbed completely into the political, assimilating into it such that the kingdom of God finds its expression through policy and social progress? These questions reveal not only our political theology but also triangulate our anthropology (doctrine of man), soteriology (doctrine of salvation), and our eschatology (doctrine of last things). 

Romans 13:1-7 is the locus classicus of New Testament teaching concerning the state. In it, the Apostle Paul exhorts Christians living in the heart of the empire to submit themselves humbly even to pagan civic rule. This simple instruction, easy for modern readers accustomed to general civil peace and the rule of law to take for granted, was crucial for the early church. After all, Christ had been raised and seated on heaven’s throne with all cosmic authority (Matthew 28:18; Ephesians 1:20-21); one could logically conclude from this that the believer, unified to Christ, is no longer subject to any unbelieving human hiearchy. Yet Scripture teaches expressly the opposite. We are to be subject to rulers (Romans 13:1; cf. Titus 3:1, 1 Peter 2:13), recognizing that their position of authority is sovereignly brought about by God (Romans 13:2; cf. John 19:11). Rather than overthrow the political order, the new covenant legitimates it and dignifies it. As King David pronounced, “When one rules justly over men, ruling in the fear of God, he dawns on them like the morning light” (2 Samuel 23:3b-4a).

Yet as Paul lays out his case, he does so making certain assumptions that bear great significance for our contemporary moment. The civil magistrate is a “servant” or “deacon” (Greek diakonos) of God (Romans 13:4). His duty is to punish evil conduct and to approbate what is good (v. 3), doing so for the good of those ruled, including Christians (v. 4). Moreover, he is a “minister” of God (or “servant”—Greek leitourgos; same root word as liturgy, connoting holy service) to this end. Contrary to a cynical analysis of politics, the civil magistrate is for Paul far more than a vestige of the fall or curse of life east of Eden. Simply put, governing authorities are those for whom Christians must pray, intercede, and give thanks so that the church of Jesus Christ can live peacefully, quietly, and in a godly and dignified manner (1 Timothy 2:1-2).

The first century historical context serves only to further underscore the apostle’s point. Paul lived and wrote under Daniel’s grotesque fourth beast (Daniel 7:7)—an empire whose animating principle ranged from neutral to outright evil, culminating in the demonic despotism of Nero. Yet under these dire circumstances, Paul was unafraid to make use of his rights as a Roman citizen (Acts 25:11) and even exhorted the Philippians, citizens of Rome by virtue of their colonial status, to walk worthy as citizens (Philippians 1:27).¹ Evidently Paul was not tainted by such concourse with a fallen, broken civil system; rather than being defiled by it, Paul seemingly sought to transmit his priestly holiness, as it were, to the common realm of the political.

Paul’s approach to government bears significance as a model for all believers. It is a great irony that many contemporary Evangelicals stand more aloof from the political than did the apostle, despite our system in the United States being markedly more just than that of Rome (albeit flawed), thanks to a preponderance of Christian influence. Yet it is difficult to imagine Paul seemingly as distant and uninvolved in public affairs as much of the modern church would prefer to be. Whereas Paul’s gospel ministry had direct bearing upon whole cities, even to the point of economic disruption (Acts 19:21-41), our great aim is often simply to be left alone.

Some Christians, it must be noted, object to political participation on grounds of conscience. Such individuals are fond of Charles Spugeon’s quip: “Of two evils, choose neither.” Looking at lineups of candidates who all, in varying degrees, represent corruptions of or downright opposition to a biblical worldview, it is these Christians who do not feel as though they can lend their vote to even those politicians who may appear “better” in some respects. The Christian atittude towards legitimate questions of conscience should be one of patience and love. Whatever a follower of Christ cannot do in faith—that is, with a clean conscience, free of doubt—is sin for that individual (Romans 14:23). Thus, if a Christian brother or sister’s conscience is wounded by association with a particular candidate or political institution, we should avoid pressuring him or her in such a way as to provoke them to transgression.

It is also true, in contrast, that many who refrain from political participation today do so not because of a sensitive conscience but a desensitized one. Rather than seeking (perhaps too scrupulously) to remain holy and unstained by the world, such persons have grown numb to multitudinous evils pervasive in society. In these cases, spiritual-sounding aphorisms (“This world isn’t home”) can serve as thin guises for sinful apathy.

Far from prescribing pious indifference, Scripture calls us to faithful stewardship. Jesus’ Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14-30) is a salient reminder that to whom much is given, much is required in return. We delude ourselves by presuming upon the mercy of God if we think he only expects a return upon his spiritual investment in our lives and not also upon his gracious investment in us in terms of the liberties we enjoy as American citizens. Our Lord expects us to take his blessings, including civic ones, and cultivate them for the eternal and temporal good of our neighbor. One can certainly overstate the power of a single ballot in an enormous federal election, especially given today’s contentious circumstances, but one should not understate the privilege it is to exercise one’s political influence, however small.

In 2024, no small number of spiritually significant issues are in play in federal, state, and local elections: state sanctioned and funded child sacrifice, chemical and physical mutilation of minors, our immigration crisis, and racialist ideologies in public education are all on the docket. While avoiding apocalyptic rhetoric or fear-stoking, we must also be honest and recognize that never before in American history has such a unique nexus of economic, social, and moral crises converged upon us all at once. Whichever direction 2024’s political races go, it is unlikely that history will look back kindly upon an American Church that resigned its prophetic position on the field to watch the cultural conflict play out from the sidelines. In keeping with Scripture, Christians have a holy obligation to steward their civic privileges, not in such a way as to give cover to ungodly politicians, but so as to leverage their influence for the good of others. Let us, then, in keeping with Paul’s call to the Philippians, behave as worthy Christian citizens. As the statesmen Edmund Burke remarked, “Nobody makes a greater mistake than he who does nothing because he could do only a little.”

Baptist Press recently released an interview that Jonathan Howe and Brandon Porter conducted with me in my study in Cape Coral, Florida, on April 5. Both they and I recorded the interview. They did so indicating that they would edit out the “ums,” “uhs,” and “wells,” etc. from the transcript in order to make the article flow well without losing the contextually understood meaning of my words.
In the interview that they posted, however, there appears to have been some difficulties in making those edits. In fact, my responses were largely left unedited except for the exclusion of certain things I said. Baptist Press did, thankfully, correct a misattribution of a vile word to me, after I sent a screenshot of the error to Brandon with the correction, “The word is prig.” There are other misquotes throughout the article, but I quickly decided it would be too tedious and time consuming to send the authors all of them.
Despite these editorial issues, feedback I have received indicates that many people seem to have gained some insight into my meaning. For this I am grateful. Others, however, have jumped on the poorly edited section regarding women serving on SBC committees to erroneously conclude that I am against such. I regret that. Though I did answer the question I was asked directly, that does not come out in what was printed. Here is a word-for-word transcript of that exchange:

Tom: I don’t think I would be asking any women to be chairmen of a board…
BP: …but could serve as on the board?
Tom:…board members? Yeah. I mean, yeah. Again there might be a situation I can’t envision…

There was some talking over at that point as Jonathan Howe interrupted me. But to his direct question, “But could [women] serve as [members] on the board?” I answered, “Yeah.” I went on to use the example of women serving in combat, which I believe is contrary to God’s design in distinguishing men from women. My point was that the God-designed distinctions between men and women do not end at the doors of the church. To hear that exact part of the interview, click here. You can listen to the complete exchange in the audio below (found at 00:46:26).
I do not know how the interview arrived in print with the unfortunate editorial issues it contains, but in the interest of openness and transparency, I am making available the full audio below. In it you can hear a more complete and accurate version of the how the questions were phrased as well as my exact answers.

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“Thou shalt love the Lord the God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might.” (Deut 6:5) In this manner the Bible commands the chief of all duties. No reasons are assigned for the requirement. No proof is adduced that God exists, or that he possesses such perfections as entitle him to the supreme love of his creatures. Jehovah steps forth before the subjects of his government, and issues his command. He waits for no formal introduction. He lifts us his voice with majesty. Without promise, and without threat, he proclaims his law, and leaves his subjects to their responsibility.

From the manner of this announcement, we may derive instruction. It is not necessary that we should enter into a formal demonstration that God exists, or a formal investigation of his attributes, before we begin the duty of loving him. We already know enough of him for this; and to postpone the performance of the duty until we have completed our investigation, is to commence them with unsanctified hearts, and in rebellion against God. From the dawn of our being we have had demonstrations of God’s existence and character, blazing around us like the light of noonday. The heavens and the earth have declared his glory; his minister and people have proclaimed his name; he is not to us an unknown God, except so far as our minds are willfully blind to the displays of his glory. If, therefore, we withhold the affections of our hearts, we can have no excuse in the plea that more evidence is needed. And with hearts so alienated from God at the outset, all our religious inquiries are likely to be unprofitable. What probability is there that further proof will produce its proper impression and effect on our minds, if that which is already in our possession is unheeded or abused? If, from what we already know of God, we admire and love him, we shall desire to know more of him, and shall prosecute the study with profit and delight; but, if we have already shut him our of our hearts, all our intellectual investigation respecting him may be expected to leave us in spiritual blindness.

The duty required corresponds, in character, to the religion, of which it is an essential part. Heathen gods could not claim the supreme love of their worshippers; and heathen minds had no idea of a religion founded on supreme love to their deities. To some extent, they were objects of fear; and much that appertained to their supposed character and history, served for amusement, or to interest the imagination; but the conduct attributed to them was often such as even heathen virtue disapproved. Hence, they could not be objects of supreme love; and no one claimed it for them. The requirement of supreme love demonstrates the religion of the Bible to be from the true God; and when we begin our religious investigations with the admission of this obligation, and the full recognition of it in our hearts, we may be assured that we are proceeding in the right way.

The simplicity of the requirement is admirable. No explanation of the duty is needed. Forms of worship may be numerous and various, and questions may arise as to the forms which will be most acceptable. Many outward duties of morality are often determined with much difficulty. Perplexing questions arise as to the nature of repentance and faith, and the uninformed need instruction respecting them. But no one needs to be told what love is; the humblest mind can understand the requirement, and may feel pleasure in the consciousness of rendering obedience to it; and the learned philosopher stand in the presence of this precept as a little child, and feels its power binding every faculty that he possesses. This simple principle pervades all religion, and binds all intelligences, small and great, to God, the centre of the great system. Between it and the power of gravitation in the natural world, which binds atoms and masses, pebbles and vast planets, a beautiful analogy may be traced.

The comprehensiveness of the precept is ot less admirable. From it rises the precept, love thy neighbor as thyself; and on these two all the law rests. We lve our neighbors because they are God’s creatures, and the subjects of his government, and because he has commanded us. We love God supremely, because he is the greatest and best of beings; and we love other beings, according to the importance of each n the universal system of being. One principle pervades both precepts, as one principle of gravitation binds the earth to the sun, and the parts of the earth to each other. Tis law binds angels to the throne of God, and to each other; and binds men and angels together, as fellow-subjects of the same sovereign. The decalogue is this law expanded, and adapted to the condition and relations of mankind. Love is not only the fulfilling of the law, but it is also the essence of gospel morality. All Christian obedience springs from it; and, without it, no form of obedience is acceptable to God. He who loves God supremely, cannot be guilty of that unbelief which makes God a liar, and he cannot reflect on the sins which he has committed against God, without sincere penitence.

We must not overlook the tendency of this precept to produce universal good. Every one knows how much the order and happiness found in human society, depend on love. If all kind affections were banished from the hearts of men, earth would be converted at once into a pandemonium. What love is left on earth renders it tolerable, and the love which reigns in heaven makes it a place of bliss. Perfect obedience to the great law of love is sufficient to render all creatures happy. It opens, within the breast, a perennial source of enjoyment; and it meets, from without, the smile and blessing of an approving God.

Though the religion of love is clearly taught in the book of God only, yet, when we have learned it there, we can discover its agreement with natural religion. It will be useful to observe how the moral tendencies of our nature accord, on this point, with the teachings of revelation.

The wickedness of man has been a subject of complaint in all ages. The ancient heathen complained of the degeneracy of their times, and talked of a golden age, long passed, in which virtue prevailed. In modern heathen nations, together with the depravity that prevails, some sense of that depravity exists; and everywhere the necessity or desirableness of a more virtuous state of society is admitted. In Christian lands, the very infidels, who scoff at all religion with one breath, will, with the next, satirize the wickedness of mankind. It is the united judgment of every nation, and every age, that the practice of men falls below their own standard of virtue. It is, therefore, necessary, in order to acquire the best notions of virtue that nature can give us, to turn away from the practice of men to those moral sentiments implanted in the human breast, which condemn this practice, and urge to higher virtue.

It is well known that men judge the actions of others with more severity than their own. Our appetites and passions interfere with the decisions of conscience, when our own conduct is the subject of examination. Hence, the general moral sense of mankind is a better standard of virtue than the individual conscience. In looking to the judgment of others, with a view to determine the morality of our actions, the judgment of those is especially to be regarded who are to be benefited or injured by our deeds. Hence, natural religion approves the rule—Do unto others as you would, in like circumstance, that they should to unto you.

When the vice of others interferes with our happiness, we are then most keenly sensible of its existence and atrocity. However vague our notions of virtue may be, we always conceive of it as tending to promote the happiness of others. Yet it is not every tendency to promote happiness which we conceive to be virtuous. The good that we eat, and the couch on which we lie, tend to promote our happiness; yet we do ot ascribe virtue to these inanimate things. Virtue belongs only to rational and moral agents; and the promotion of happiness must be intentional  to be accounted virtuous. There is still another limitation. Men sometimes confer benefits on others, with the expectation of receiving greater benefits in return. Where the motive for the action is merely the benefit expected in return, the common judgment of mankind refuses to characterize the deed as virtuous. To constitute virtue, there must be an intentional promotion of happiness in others; and this intention must be disinterested. Natural religion does not deny that a higher standard of morality may exist; but it holds that disinterested benevolence in virtue, and it determines the morality of actions by the disinterested benevolence which they exhibit.

Some have maintained that self-love is the first principle of virtue, its central affection, which, spreading first to those most nearly related to us, extends gradually to others more remote, and widens at length into universal benevolence. This system of morality is self-contradictory. While it claims to aim at universal happiness, it makes it the duty of each individual to aim, not at this public good, bt at his own private benefit. Whenever the interest of another comes in conflict with his own, it is made his duty to aim at the latter, and to promote that of his neighbor only so far as it may conduce to his own. It is true, that the advocates of this system being in reason as a restraining influence, and suppose that it will so regulate the exercise of self-love as to result in the general good. According to this system,, if we, in aiming at our own happiness, practice fraud and falsehood with a view to promote it, and find ourselves defeated in the attainment of our object, we may charge our failure, not on the virtuous principle by which it is assumed that we have been moved, but on the failure of our reason to restrain and regulate it so as to attain its end. If it be said, that conscience will not permit us to be happy in the practice of fraud and falsehood, and that self-love, aware of this, avoids those practices so inconsistent with our internal peace, it is clearly admitted that conscience is a higher principle of our nature, to the decisions of which our self-love is compelled to yield.

As virtue aims at the general good, it must favour the means necessary for the attainment of this end. Civil government and laws, enacted and executed in wisdom and justice, are highly conducive to the general welfare, and these receive the approbation and support of the virtuous. Were an individual of our race, by a happy exception to the general rule, born with a virtuous bias and were this virtuous bias fostered and developed in his education, he would be found seeking the good of all. His first benefits conferred, would be on those nearest to him; but his disinterested benevolence would not stop here. As his acquaintance extended into the ramifications of society, his desire and labour for the general good would extend with it, and civil government, wholesome law, and every institution tending to public benefit would receive his cordial approbation and support; and every wise and righteous governor, and every subordinate individual, aiming at the public good, would be an object of his favour. If we suppose the knowledge of his individual to increase, and his virtuous principles to expand, widening the exercise of universal benevolence; and if, at length, the idea of a God,, a being of every possible moral excellence, the wise and righteous governor of the universe, should be presented; how would his heart be affected? Here his virtuous principles would find occasion for their highest exercise, and would grow into religious devotion. This glorious being would have the highest place in his admiration and love; and the discovery of his universal dominion would produce ineffable joy. Such are the affections of heart which even natural religion teaches, that the knowledge of God’s existence and perfections ought to produce.

In God’s written word, we learn our duty in a reverse method. We are not left to trace it out by a slow process, beginning with the first exercise of moral principle in the heart, and rising at length to the infinite God; but the existence and character of God are immediately presented, and the first and chief of all duties is at once announced: “Thou shalt love he Lord thy God with all thy heart.” How sublime! How appropriate! The virtuous mind is open to receive such a revelation; and its perfect accordance with the best teachings of natural religion, recommends it to our understandings and our hearts. The second commandment, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself,” is introduced, not as leading to the first, but as subordinate to it. It takes the place which properly belongs to it in a revelation from the supreme authority.

Love has been divided into benevolence, beneficence, and complacence. This division may at first appear inconsistent with the simplicity which ahs been ascribed to love. Benevolence is the disposition to do good to an object, and beneficence is the conferring of that good. The latter is not properly love, but the effect or manifestation of it. On the other hand, complacence includes the cause of the love together with the affection itself. Love may be exercise toward an unworthy object, as when God loves those who are dead in trespasses and sins. But it may be exercised toward those whose moral character renders them fit objects. In this case, the love being connected with approbation of the character beloved, is called complacence. When love has an inanimate thing for its object, as when Isaac love savory meat, the term refers to the deriving of enjoyment; but when the object of love is a sentient being, the term always implies the conferring of enjoyment, even when some pleasure has been received, or some enjoyment in return is expected.

Love to God implies cordial approbation of his moral character. His natural attributed, eternity, immensity, omnipotence, &c, may fill us with admiration; but these are not the proper objects of love. If we worship him in the beauty of holiness, the beauty of his holiness must excite the love of our hearts. As our knowledge of these moral perfections increases, our delight in them must increase; and this delight will stimulate to further study of them; and to a more diligent observation of the various methods in which they are manifested. The display of them, even in the most terrible exhibitions of his justice, will be contemplated with reverent, but approving awe; and their united glory, as seen in the great scheme of redemption by Christ, will be viewed with unmixed and never-ceasing delight.

Love to God includes joy in his happiness. He is not only perfectly holy, but perfectly happy; and it is our duty to rejoice in his happiness. In loving our neighbor, we rejoice in his present happiness, and desire to increase it. We cannot increase the already perfect happiness of God, but we can rejoice in that which he possesses. If we delight in the happiness of God, we shall labor to please him in all things, to do whatever he commands, and to advance all the plans, the accomplishment of which he has so much at heart. Love, therefore, includes obedience to his commands, and resignation and submission to his will.

Love to God will render it a pleasing task to examine the proofs of his existence, and to study those glorious attributes which render him the worthy object of supreme affection. Let us enter n this study, prompted by holy love, and a strong desire that our love may be increased.