How (Not) to Vote for Secularism
A Call to "Faithfulness" in the Voting Booth Falls Short of its Own Goals
Dear Readers,
My newsletter is back. For those who’ve been around awhile, you’ll notice the title has changed. Amor Dei, Amor Mundi is “love of God, love of the world,” and refers to the way “Amor Mundi” came to signify Hannah Arendt’s work. I’ll say more about that in a future newsletter.
In the meantime, if you’re new here, welcome. I’m glad to have you, and I’m glad to be writing this again. With no further ado…
Last week, Dr. Albert Mohler, president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary here in my hometown of Louisville, caused a stir with remarks he made at the “Pray, Vote, Stand Summit.” The backbone of his speech is an argument about the struggle against secularism in our culture. I’m sympathetic to elements of his argument, particularly when it relates to issues like abortion and gender ideology. (I find his broadsides against “Marxism” and “wokeism” tiresome, mostly driven by fan service, and occasionally stained by dog whistles that are more significantly troubling. But that’s a discussion for a different newsletter.)
But while I might agree with some elements of his diagnosis, it’s the solutions he offers and the degree to which he attempts to compel Christians to embrace them that warrant closer examination.
In a passage of the speech that got the most attention in the days after, Mohler said:
Every single election matters. But every single election is followed by the next one. And faithfulness now is absolutely necessary and frankly, just given the temporality of life, we’ve got to give primary attention to faithfulness right now.
2022 in the United States means votes matter. And we have a responsibility to make certain that Christians understand the stewardship of the vote, which means the discipleship of the vote, which means the urgency of the vote, the treasure of the vote… And [Christians] need to understand that insofar as they do not vote or they vote wrongly, they are unfaithful.
When I see the words “stewardship,” “discipleship,” and “treasure” in connection with voting, it’s hard not to read them in the language of Christianese. By this I mean that Mohler seems to be connecting the vote itself to categories commonly associated with the Christian life. In the case of “stewardship,” that might be innocuous on its own. Few Christians would disagree that stewardship is a helpful category for thinking about voting, though it’s also a useful category for thinking about all of life.
“Discipleship,” on the other hand, is a word directly tying behavior to following Jesus, compelling a certain kind of action. That ties neatly into his later challenge that there is a faithful and unfaithful way to vote. We’ll return to that in a moment.
The most interesting word to me is “treasure.” The summit took place in a church, and Mohler began his talk by reading scripture and talking about the history of that church and its famous pastor. No matter how you look at it, the whole speech is colored by the imagery and authority of that context — including (and especially) the word “treasure.”
Throughout the New Testament, “treasure” refers to the Kingdom of God: treasures in jars of clay, treasures in Heaven, the parable of the buried treasure, and so forth. Its inclusion in this context is revealing. I can’t speak to Mohler’s motive in using the word, but whether its use was intentional or accidental, it nonetheless evokes these images at some level (conscious or subconscious). That’s unavoidable in the context, and it speaks to the nature of the event and its ultimate appeal to the audience.
The mind works as much in poetry and metaphor as it does reason. This fact underlies every successful ad campaign in the last 50 years (or more), which tend to play more on images of the good life than they do on direct appeals. When you see Matthew McConaughey driving a Lincoln and talking in soft tones, does your mind focus more on the details of the car or the ethos of the commercial? Do the old Axe Body Spray commercials tell you anything about what the product smells like, or do they promise that by spraying yourself with it, women will find you irresistible? Clothing, soda, and beer commercials spend much more time showing images of people having good times with friends than they do describing the product itself.
In each case, the target of the ad isn’t reason. The product itself is hidden behind a visual and poetic appeal to a vision of the good life — community, sex, or a certain kind of self-image. The selling point is built upon borrowed capital from that vision, capturing the imagination first and then attempting sleight of hand that connects the vision to the product. It’s a powerful and effective approach, tapping into human nature in ways that pure reason never could.
It's not surprising that such a cynical and manipulative approach is taken by (to borrow one of my favorite David Foster Wallace phrases) people who do not love you but want your money. And it shouldn’t be surprising to see it deployed for political ends. But to see it deployed so cynically in the context of a church and by a nationally respected Christian leader is disappointing to say the least.
The point of the appeal is made clear when Mohler states that Christians “need to understand that insofar as they do not vote or they vote wrongly, they are unfaithful.” In other words, to be faithful (“stewardship”), to follow Jesus (“discipleship”), and to seek the Kingdom (“treasure”), one must vote and one must not “vote wrongly.” He borrows on the capital of the spiritual life both overtly and subversively to connect the vote to the authority of the church.
The question, though, is whether faithful resistance to secularism can be framed in such a blunt and binary way. Is it true that by supporting candidates who oppose progressive ideology and activism around these issues — regardless of their flaws — you’re resisting secularism’s takeover of our nation?
The advance of secularism began in the Enlightenment, when questions that were once answered by religion and superstition found new answers in science and reason. As that movement unfolded, the role of religion and transcendence diminished, and Mohler himself makes clear many of the negative consequences of that evolution.
What he doesn’t address, though, is the degree to which modernity and secularism transformed the spiritual imagination. Secularism, as Charles Taylor argues in A Secular Age, isn’t an external problem that the church has to resist; it’s the milieu in which all of us — religious and irreligious — live. As Taylor puts it, we all live haunted by doubt, which is less a battle with disbelief than an anxiety about belief.
The result is a church that lives and worships under these conditions, and evidence for that fact abounds. The culture of revivalism is a relatively new thing (150 years old or so), but it dominates contemporary evangelical worship. In it, the church gathering follows an emotional arc through music and preaching, leading the participant towards an existential confrontation with God, sin, and self. This is meant to result in a confession or renewal of faith. But given this design, and given the sharpening of practices that produce such results, we need to ask to what degree can we credit those results to the work of the Spirit, and to what degree can we credit the emotional arc of the gathering itself? In other words, how much is the spiritual experience contingent upon the performance of those on stage?
The temptation to embrace these practices makes a great deal of sense when considered through the lens of modernity and secularism. If we live under conditions of doubt, if we’re not quite sure God will show up, then there’s an urgency for us to make something happen. We embrace an instrumental, manipulative approach to the gathered church to ensure the outcome we believe we need.
You can see this mindset justifying all kinds of corruption, including the embrace and protection of church leaders who lack the character for the office required by scripture. It also translates almost perfectly to how a secularized church would think about politics. In both cases, the ends justify the means.
Mohler’s argument rests on the idea that advancing the pro-life cause and resisting the progressive agenda justifies voting choices that would, under other conditions, be unacceptable and even reprehensible. So, one should embrace candidates that deny the results of the 2020 election, express support for the rioters who invaded the capitol on January 6th 2021, play footsie with QAnon, and engage in race-baiting tactics purely because they pay lip service to issues deemed essential in the fight against secularism. And remember that Mohler says opting out by not voting for these candidates is also an act of unfaithfulness.
That last point might be the most important. In the days since the speech, much attention has been given to the idea that Mohler is condemning Democrats as unfaithful Christians. To that, I more or less say, “What else is new?” But condemning those who choose not to vote as unfaithful gives away the game of the speech: he’s confronting conservatives whose consciences are troubled by the lack of viable options on either side of the aisle, attempting to compel them to vote for liars, deniers, serial adulterers, and otherwise unqualified candidates in order to accomplish the desired ends. Some Christians might choose to do so, thinking of the election as binary and feeling compelled to vote for candidates whom they believe will do the least harm. If one considers that choice a question of conscience, perhaps that’s a worthwhile debate, but to take it beyond conscience into the realm of faithfulness makes law where there is none (Romans 5:13), and would make hypocrites of those who said, in 2016, “If I were to support, much less endorse, Donald Trump for President, I would have to go back and apologize to former President Bill Clinton.”
I think much of Mohler’s doomsaying about the spread of secular ideology is right. But by attempting to compel Christians to vote for whatever candidate checks off the boxes on the “right” issues — no matter how morally dubious or psychologically unstable they may be, without regard for their association with white nationalists, embrace of conspiracy theories, or disgusting criminal behavior — he reveals a lack of memory and imagination for Christian faithfulness.
How often in history have Christians been a moral minority? How often has their peaceful resistance to persecution and injustice or their willingness to go into the spoiling places of the world been the very thing that changes it? That kind of faithfulness requires a willingness to lose power, and it only makes sense in a world beyond our senses — a transcendent world where God works in mysterious ways, treasures are in heaven, and a blessed, flourishing life is possible even while people revile and persecute you. A spiritual imagination shaped by this vision can see the creep of secularism and not be afraid of it.
Rather than reaching for the tools of power, I wish the church were talking about the need for deeper spiritual communities, rich friendships, and shared practices that can shape this kind of imagination and reveal the plausibility of the Christian life to an angry, polarized world. Such a church can actually lose the culture war and thrive — as it has countless times before.
I agree with Mohler’s concern for future generations and for the well-being of our nation and world. But his moral framework for resistance fails to see beyond what’s immanent and demands that Christians reach for any tools at hand — regardless of how compromised or damaging to Christian witness they may be. By doing so he reveals a failure to see the way the very ideology he condemns has taken root in his imagination.
In the end, it isn’t that Mohler is wrong about the dangers of secularism; it’s that his critique of it doesn’t go far enough.
Personal Update
I’m wrapping up the final draft of a writing project that has been in development for quite a few years now. What started as a book about the Sermon on the Mount has evolved into reflections on several mountains in the Bible, and the characters who make their way across them. These stories intersect with mine, and I offer a lot of my reflections on my experiences of spiritual disorientation and recovery, along with some of the weird journey of making the Mars Hill podcast.
Speaking of which, the Epilogue (and truly final) episode should be up in a couple of days. I took a brief trip to Seattle, spent some time with some of the characters in the show, and reflect on what I hope it all means for the church.
I spent most of last week in Carol Stream, Illinois, at the Christianity Today home office. Strangely enough, it was my second time there in two and a half years. My last trip ended on the first day of the shutdown, and all my work has been remote since. It was an exciting trip, with lots to look forward to as Russell Moore takes on the role of Editor-In-Chief. We have a number of new projects on the horizon, including something in October I’m excited about. Stay tuned.
Regarding Paid Content
FYI — there’s not paid content in this newsletter yet, but I have intent to go there at some point. If you’ve signed up to pay and didn’t know that (some people expressed a desire just to kick in a few bucks), let me know and I’ll refund you.
Colts Rant
[If you’re new here, this is a self-indulgent section where I complain about a football team that has been in decline for more years than I’d like to count.]
This season for the Indianapolis Colts was supposed to be different, but I have to admit that I saw some of this coming. I like Matt Ryan, and I hope he finds a rhythm in the next few days. But the weakness at Left Tackle will be an achilles heel (it has been already) and the wide receiver situation is absolutely inexcusable. By all measures, it seemed like T.Y. Hilton wanted another year, and to have him out there could have been a difference maker. While he doesn’t have the speed he once did, he’s still lethal enough to make a secondary think twice, and had something these young guns don’t seem to: the ability to catch the ball.
It would be one thing if there was a sense that “this is a rebuilding year,” but you don’t hire a 37 (38?) year-old quarterback in the spirita spirit of rebuilding. You want to win. Instead, he’s running from that gap on the LT side, and Jonathan Taylor is taking way too many carries. The despair (and the “fire Reich” talk) has already begun, and it’s only week two.
Links
I really enjoyed Leslie Jamison’s essay on choose your own adventure books.
Jonah Goldberg’s G-File on calling out the failures of your own team sums up a lot of my own obsession in the last few years. As much as Christians might be inclined to resistresisting secularism (see above), it strikes me that we’re in a moment of urgency for cleaning our own house.
An excerpt:
Again, plenty of people have evil motives because evil exists. But even most evil people don’t think they’re evil. Even most Nazis—very bad motives there—didn’t set out saying, “Let’s be villains! Let’s be remembered for centuries as the bad guys and be depicted by British actors in World War II movies as deliberately horrible people.”
It takes a lot of effort to even contemplate the possibility that we’re the baddies.
We’ll see you next week.
— Mike Cosper
Just yesterday I saw this poll (https://thestateoftheology.com/?utm_medium=instagram&utm_source=linktree&utm_campaign=2022+results+now+available%3A+the+state+of+theology ) of American Evangelicals that says 90% view abortion as a sin, but only 60% believe Jesus was divine. I worry you get that by focusing a church on political goals instead of the work of salvation and grace. The danger of this language isn’t just what it does to the world outside of the church; or how the church treats its own members with differing views; it hollows the whole thing out into just another political apparatus.
Really enjoyed this newsletter!