Nonpartisan Jesus vs. the Apolitical Church

Andy Stanley, Not In It To Win It: Why Choosing Sides Sidelines the Church

Atlanta megachurch pastor Andy Stanley endured intense criticism, some of it borderline violent, when he paused in-person worship during the pandemic. He never wanted to become a political lightning rod, but when angry parishioners accused him with cable-TV talking points, he realized that's what he became. To Stanley, political alignment is an abdication of the gospel message. I see where he's coming from, but I can't bring myself to agree.

American Christianity, in Stanley's mind, has become too invested in winning. Whether this means winning arguments, or winning elections, or winning the "culture wars," Christians seemingly care more about worldly victory than eternal truth. When we focus on winning America, Stanley says, we lose Americans. Earthly victory is eternal loss; we gain the world, as Jesus said, and lose our souls. Not exactly a fair trade.

This strictly partisan interpretation of Christianity doesn't jibe with historical Christ followers. Jesus spoke of the "kingdom of God," and importantly, he meant it. Ancient Rome didn't distrust Christians because they prayed more, but because they pledged allegiance to another King. The idea of Christians taking partisan sides in the frequent Roman civil wars would've made no sense, because Christians were already deemed disloyal to Earthly kings.

So far, Stanley and I agree. Jesus didn't come to endorse partisan alignment, and certainly not to defend existing power hierarchy. This applies across political parties, since both parties want power; the Messiah who promises to "make all things new" wouldn't support either party that wants power at others' expense. Jesus didn't call us to win, but to love, which we can't do if we're busy divvying the world into winners and losers.

Stanley goes even further. Not only did Jesus not come to win, but Jesus specifically came to "lose," by Earthly standards. Because this world is full of losers: the poor, the disenfranchised, the outcast, the ritually unclean. Stanley spends several chapters exploring this from different angles, but his upshot is basically that Jesus loves losers, not because they're especially holy, but because they're losers. We can't follow Jesus' example if we're busy winning.

Pastor Andy Stanley

Okay, in broad strokes, Stanley and I agree. I support his overarching thesis, because I disapprove of not only the recent rise of Christian Nationalism, but also the progressive Christian response that hides in government's skirts. Both options accord more power to human institutions, which necessarily robs power from "the least of these," the sheep that Jesus called Peter to feed.

But Stanley and I diverge on what that means in practice. Stanley evidently believes Christ's church should remain, in his words, "apolitical." Though he admits he began writing this book because he was appalled by the vitriolic partisan response to his pandemic policy, he seems to think that the response is to stand above the fray. The mere fact that he couldn't, that his attempt to avoid politics was interpreted politically, doesn't change his mind.

Millions of Black American Christians have learned that simply being alive, and loving as Christ first loved us, is a political act. That's true when Christians organize deliberate resistance to worldly injustice, as Dr. King and Howard Thurman proved. But the 16th Street Baptist Church showed us that, when your existence threatens the status quo, this world's powers don't need legal justifications to hate and destroy.

As Stanley himself says, becoming a Christ follower should mean a radical reorientation of life. We're called to love those this world doesn't love. That may mean, like James and John, leaving our family; it may mean, like Matthew and Zaccheus, leaving the protection that government authority grants. Loving others threatens "the world," which thrives by creating in-groups and exploiting our fear of strangers.

What Stanley seems to not grasp is that the radical love he advocates, is indeed political. It knowingly subverts the world's widespread desire to name enemies and seek victory, which powerful people use to preserve their advantages. Refusing to play the world's political game isn't "apolitical," despite Stanley's claim. Jesus refused to either acknowledge or refuse Pilate's authority, an action which spit in Roman authority's eye.

Again, I agree with Stanley, broadly. When Christians strive to "win," we play into Earthly power structures that divide the world into winners and losers, an unloving, anti-Christian attitude. He's right that Christ calls us to lose the world. But Stanley is wrong to describe this as "apolitical." The anger political insiders show demonstrates how wholly political it is when we refuse. We can't stand aloof from the consequences.