For this special Independence Day bonus episode, I go solo to talk about what America means and how Christians should relate to our nation. The most contentious debates that we currently have are about history, and we can’t agree on which story to tell about America. I also talk about two books that approach this problem of America’s story differently.

Timestamps:
Revised and Expanded Piper [0:00 – 1:22]
What we disagree about is history. [1:22 – 6:52]
Is there such a thing as an American? [6:52 – 10:58]
Book 1: Covenant, Crucible, Creed [10:58 – 23:49]
Book 2: Celebration and Criticism [23:49 – 30:57]
6 Quick Thoughts [30:57 – 46:47]
Books and Everything:
After Nationalism: Being American in an Age of Division, by Samuel Goldman
Land of Hope: An Invitation to the Great American Story, by Wilfred McClay

Kevin DeYoung (PhD, University of Leicester) is senior pastor of Christ Covenant Church in Matthews, North Carolina, Council member of The Gospel Coalition, and associate professor of systematic theology at Reformed Theological Seminary (Charlotte). He has written numerous books, including Just Do Something. Kevin and his wife, Trisha, have nine children: Ian, Jacob, Elizabeth, Paul, Mary, Benjamin, Tabitha, Andrew, and Susannah.

I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to think about something other than politics, read something other than politics, breathe something other than politics.
Before I go any further, it bears repeating: politics matters. As a pastor, I am eager for Christians to be informed and engaged in politics. In fact, after theology and church history, I probably read more on politics, political history, and political philosophy than anything else. I am not against reading, writing, thinking, and speaking on politics.
And yet, I can’t help but question the wisdom of so many Christians—in particular, Christian leaders whose ministries are ostensibly not about politics—voicing specific opinions, sometimes passionately and sometimes frequently, about every political person, place, and thing. I understand that some Christians do punditry, advocacy, and opinion journalism for a living. I’m not surprised when they comment on political matters or weigh in on the events of the day. That’s what they do, and some of them do it really well, helping Christians think Christianly about what they are hearing and reading in the news.
So, again, I’m not against Christians offering cultural and political analysis. I’m not against discipling Christians to see all of life through the lens of Scripture.
What I am against is the instinct shared by too many Christians, including pastors and leaders, that assumes, “If everyone is talking about it, I should probably say something too.”
I worry that people will not first think of gospel convictions or theological commitments when they hear of our churches and ministries, but they will first think of whether we were for or against a certain candidate.
I am nervous that our lines of Christian fellowship will be drawn not according to Reformational principles of ecclesiology, worship, and theology, but according to current expressions of cultural antipathy and identity politics.
I am concerned that weighing in with strong public comments—from both the left and the right—about everything from voter fraud to judicial philosophy to energy policy to why we should all celebrate (when my candidate wins!) and come together in unity (when your candidate loses!)—does nothing to persuade our foes, but much to alienate our friends.
More than anything else, I fear we are letting the world’s priorities dictate what the church is most passionate about.
This isn’t a blanket denunciation of ever saying anything about political issues or political candidates. I have before and probably will again. But perhaps there are questions we should ask next time before joining the online cacophony.
Am I making it harder for all sorts of people to hear what I have to say about more important matters? Think about it: most of us are annoyed when athletes and movie stars feel the need to enlighten us with their political opinions. At best, we roll our eyes and still watch their movies or their games anyway. At worst, we turn them off for good. People will do the same to us. It’s good to think twice before we cash in our goodwill chips, doubling down for or against a particular candidate.
Is my online persona making it harder for my in-person friends to want to be around me? You may feel like, “I only post a few things each day on social media. There is so much more to my life.” True, but what you post on social media is the only part of your life that most of the world knows and sees. People don’t see your fully formed, full-orbed personality and personal life. They see the fifteen things you posted last week, ten of which had to do with politics, seven of which drove half of your friends absolutely bonkers. At the very least, we should consider if adding this stress to family and friends is really worth it.
Am I speaking on matters upon which I do not have special knowledge and for which no one needs my opinion? If my knowledge about something is limited to the three minutes I’ve been angry, or even the 30 minutes I’ve been surfing online, I probably don’t need to download those thoughts to the world.
Am I animated more by what I am reading in Scripture or by what I am seeing on the news and in social media? I’m convinced one of the biggest ways the world is currently shaping the church is by simply setting the agenda for the church’s concerns. We may think we are transforming the world by offering around-the-clock political commentary, but if all we talk about is what media outlets are already talking about, who is influencing whom?
You may argue in reply, I hear you, but the issues are too important. Christians can’t sit on the sidelines as the world argues about the important issues of our day. Fair enough. But consider: is posting your quick thoughts on the daily news cycle really the best way to make a long-term difference? Why not slow down and read some books and comment on those? Or write something online that goes back to first principles? Or write a book if you have opportunity? Or invest in liberal arts education that draws from the best of our Western tradition? Or simply and gloriously disciple young believers to know their Bibles, bear the fruit of the Spirit, and be committed to their local church?
American culture is incredibly diverse. We don’t all watch the same movies or television shows. We don’t all go to church. We don’t all read the same thing or listen to the same music. The one thing that we can all get into is politics, and that’s not healthy. Politics has become the national pastime that brings us all together, only so it can drive us all apart. The task of the church, in this polarized environment, is to slow down, set our minds on things above, and stick to our own script. To be sure, we should not always be silent. But neither should we be the noisiest people in the room, especially when the room tries to tell us what we should be talking about.
Brothers and sisters, it’s OK to have an unarticulated thought. It’s OK to go about our lives in quiet worship and obedience. It’s OK to do your homework, read your Bible, raise your kids, and make your private thoughts prayers instead of posts. Alison Krauss was right: sometimes you say it best when you say nothing at all.

Kevin DeYoung (PhD, University of Leicester) is senior pastor of Christ Covenant Church in Matthews, North Carolina, Council member of The Gospel Coalition, and associate professor of systematic theology at Reformed Theological Seminary (Charlotte). He has written numerous books, including Just Do Something. Kevin and his wife, Trisha, have nine children: Ian, Jacob, Elizabeth, Paul, Mary, Benjamin, Tabitha, Andrew, and Susannah.

On the latest Life and Books and Everything podcast, I talked at some length about what we are really arguing about when it comes to some of our current cultural flashpoints. I won’t repeat everything I said on the podcast (you should subscribe!), but I thought it might be worthwhile to give the basic outline of my monologue.
My overarching point is this: we need to be clearer as Christians about where our disagreements lie.
That is to say, we often talk as if we are disagreeing about significant elements of the Christian faith—whether that has to do with God’s sovereignty or worship or justice or racism or abortion—when actually we are disagreeing about a host of issues surrounding those issues. By drilling down to our actual disagreements, we may not find a new consensus or a mythical third way, but perhaps we will be able to talk to each other with more charity and humility.
Let’s look at three of the most contentious issues dividing churches (or about to divide churches) at the moment.
Presidential Election
Christians disagree about all sorts of things related to the election. I don’t want to talk about Trump vs. Biden. Instead, I want us to think about voting itself. How should Christians in America think about their vote for president? I see at least four approaches.
1. Vote for the best candidate of all the candidates. Pretty simple. Look on the ballot (or write someone in) and vote for the person you think best represents Christian values and will effectively carry out the responsibilities of the presidency.
2. Vote for the best (or least bad) candidate of the two major parties. It is almost assuredly the case that the Republican or Democratic nominee will be president, so, this argument insists, we ought to vote for whichever of the two candidates is better. And what do we mean by better? That is open for debate as well. For most people “better” means some combination of policies, platform, appointments, personal integrity, and the political party you would be putting in power. You may or may not be excited about the person at the top of the ticket, but you figure you are voting for a network of policies and influencers, not just one person.
3. Vote for the best candidate—of all the candidates, or of the two leading parties—so long as the candidate meets a certain threshold for character and ideology. This is like 1 and 2, but instead of saying, “I will always vote for the lesser of two evils,” it says, “I won’t cast a vote for someone I think is actually evil.” You think to yourself, I could never cast a vote for someone who advocates the killing of all puppies. He may be better than the person who supports the killing of puppies and grown dogs, but I simply can’t vote for someone who doesn’t pass a basic test of moral decency.
4. Vote in a way that you believe best advances the long-term interests of your policy goals and convictions. You may reason that Candidate A is less bad than Candidate B in the short run, but you are going to vote for Candidate C because you want to signal that you hope your party will select better candidates in the future. Or you may reason that even though you agree with Candidate B on more issues, that candidate’s style or character makes those positions less palatable and actually hurts the goals and policies you care about most. Instead of viewing the election as a matter of immediate national life or death, you think it best to play the long game and vote accordingly.
I’m not telling you how to look at your vote. Maybe one of these approaches makes more sense in our given context than another. But then we should be clear that we are arguing about a philosophy of voting—something not nailed down in Scripture—rather than about issues of first-order importance. I don’t think all of the approaches above are equally compelling, but I do think they are all reasonable ways to approach the act of voting.
Police Shootings
Let’s take another controversial issue. Many churches are divided over how to think about police shootings. Too often, we throw around accusations of racism or cultural Marxism or not caring about the Bible or not caring about people of color, when we are actually disagreeing about the facts of a given situation. It’s easy to jump to conclusions, and then jump to counter-conclusions, when slowing down to ask certain questions can isolate what we are really talking about and (likely) disagreeing about.
When it comes to the specific issue of a specific police shooting—not all race issues in general—we would do well to ask four questions.

What happened?
How often does it happen?
To whom does it happen?
Why did it/does it happen?

Of course, it’s possible that we ask questions in a way that only serves to obfuscate the issues. We’ve all heard people say, “I’m only asking questions,” when they are really just trying to gum up the discussion. But highlighting the four questions above—even if we don’t agree on the answers—can at least highlight that our disagreements may not be about a lack of concern for justice or an affinity for Critical Race Theory.
Instead, our disagreements may focus on: whether the shooting was justified or not, whether police shootings happen a lot or little, whether they happen disproportionately to some people over others, and whether the shooting was because of race, poor training, poor judgment, or some other factor. In other words, we may think we are arguing about social justice, when actually we are arguing about shooting data and police unions. Or, we may not, in fact, be arguing about remotely the same thing at all but have reached an impasse because one person is looking for empathy and a recognition of historical wrongs while another person is parsing out the nuances of proper compliance and policing procedure.
Covid-19
One more issue, and this may be the most difficult. It’s no secret that Christians don’t agree on when and whether to open church, on when or whether to wear masks, and on when or whether to disobey the government. Again, the arguments are often pitched as fundamentally about the Bible, theology, and personal devotion to Christ. And they may be. But more often in my experience, the hottest part of the argument is about other issues not spelled out clearly in Scripture.

Is the virus a very serious health concern, or has the threat been greatly exaggerated?
Is the government exercising its authority in consistent ways, or does it seem to be singling out churches for worse treatment than other establishments?
Is the government trying to achieve its public health goals in the least burdensome way, or are its rules arbitrary and unreasonably heavy-handed?
Is the government generally to be trusted as looking out for the best interests of its citizens, or is the government ramping up oppressive measures that it will be slow to relinquish?

These are all important questions. I’m not suggesting we don’t try to answer them. But in answering them, let’s be clear that we are making decisions about epidemiology, mathematical modeling, and government bureaucracies. One church may say, “Don’t you love Christ? Why won’t you meet for worship?” Another church may say, “Don’t you love your neighbor? How dare you open for worship?” Of course, every church ought to be absolutely committed to public worship and loving our neighbors. The reason two churches like this are criticizing the other has much more to do with their epidemiological views than their theological views. Being clear about the disagreement is a step in the right direction.
Four Final Thoughts
Where does this leave us? Quickly, four thoughts.
1. Let’s be clear what we are arguing about (and what we are not arguing about). Drill down to the issue really causing separation.
2. Let’s be less dogmatic about our approach to voting, and our reading of police data, and our take on the severity of the virus than we are about fundamental articles of the Christian faith. By all means, we can try to persuade about all those other matters, but let’s realize we are outside the realm of inerrant, or often even uniquely Christian, conclusions.
3. Let’s humbly acknowledge our position when disagreeing with others in the church. Instead of raising every disagreement to the highest rhetorical level, we might say, “I’m not questioning your commitment to Christ, but I don’t think the virus is the threat you think it is. Here’s why.”
4. Let’s understand that most pastors are trying to find a way to hold their congregation together in divisive times. It may be that your pastor is cowardly trying to make everyone happy. That won’t work. But it may be that he is trying to wisely shepherd a diverse flock in a way that helps the sheep to focus on Christ and him crucified. If the disagreement has become public in your church, then the pastor is usually wise to deal with it publicly. That takes courage. But don’t expect that he is going to take a definitive side when he is not an expert in the contentious matter, and reasonable Christians can come to different conclusions. The loving pastor should show that he understands both sides and is sympathetic to the good things people want on both sides. He should not pretend he has found the third way that everyone will agree on or that piety alone will transcend all our disagreements.
Make no mistake, these are difficult times and leaders will have to make difficult decisions. But the fallout from these decisions can be made less difficult if we know what we are disagreeing about, can state clearly why we think the way we do, and are willing to allow that others may reasonably think differently.

Kevin DeYoung (PhD, University of Leicester) is senior pastor of Christ Covenant Church in Matthews, North Carolina, Council member of The Gospel Coalition, and associate professor of systematic theology at Reformed Theological Seminary (Charlotte). He has written numerous books, including Just Do Something. Kevin and his wife, Trisha, have nine children: Ian, Jacob, Elizabeth, Paul, Mary, Benjamin, Tabitha, Andrew, and Susannah.