In 1976, America felt the first tremors of Christian political activism. Many Christians lined up behind a candidate who announced he was born again. Carter’s success emboldened evangelicals to forge a powerful new coalition for the 1980 election.
Now, a decade later, those tremors have become an earthquake. The Christian New Right has become a formidable voting bloc; and, to cap it off, a leading evangelist has become a serious contender for president.
Many who firmly believe God will bless the nation and reverse its moral descent through Christians in political office are wildly enthusiastic about Pat Robertson’s all-but-announced candidacy. Finally, in the words of Jimmy Swaggart, we can back “one of us.”
But for others, Robertson’s announcement was the “last straw,” unleashing ten years of pent-up resentment against growing Christian political influence. Michael Kramer, for example, wrote in New York magazine that Robertson is the “latest in a long line of religious leaders who’ve craved control of the secular world,” and concluded that “Robertson’s main problem is that he preaches resentment and intolerance.” So much for journalistic objectivity.
The backlash was evident as well in the Michigan Republican primary. Bush supporters passed out cards reading, “Help keep religion out of politics … fundamentalist supporters of Reverend Pat Robertson are trying to take over the Michigan Republican party!” The strategy apparently worked: only nine percent of COP registrants voted for Robertson—and even among those identifying themselves as born again, less than one quarter voted for him.
Even friends of the Religious Right are concerned. Sen. Bill Armstrong warned that “for Christians to assume for the church a role of being power brokers … is not only untruthful to the faith but invites a backlash, and properly so.” Education Secretary William Bennett accused Robertson of “invidious sectarianism and intolerance.” Strong words among friends.
The cause of all this is not so much Robertson, who with but a few slips has avoided triumphal language. Since the Constitution allows no religious test for office, he has just as much right to run as anyone else.
No, the real problem is that by stepping forward, Robertson inherits the sum of ten years of excessive rhetoric and thus draws fire on all sides from secular critics. He will be blamed for everything, including such ridiculous proposals as the religious affirmative action program advocated a year ago by a Christian leader: If, say, 24 percent of the people are born again, 24 percent of office holders should be born again.
Robertson will also have to bear the baggage of his own overzealous supporters, who have claimed that “America is ready for a president who will speak for God as well as for the American people,” and that “the ability to hear from God should be the number one qualification for the U.S. presidency.”
Such talk curls the hair of secularists (and thinking Christians), conjuring up images of religious ayatollahs and Cromwell’s Commonwealth.
Whether in the guise of Christian theocracy or liberation theology, there have always been those who have confused the kingdom of God and the kingdoms of this world. But we need to remember: the kingdom of God is not built by man, nor does it rest on anyone’s ideological platform.
The Robertson campaign puts evangelicalism to its toughest test in decades—for if the triumphalism continues, the backlash will intensify, diminishing Christian influence in society. On the other hand, the exposure could provide an opportunity for Christians to articulate a responsible view of political involvement.
It will not be easy to reverse ten years of misdirected rhetoric, but I believe it is possible. Whether he has asked for it or not, the mantle to do so now falls to Robertson: What he and his supporters say and do (assuming the dubious proposition that they are fairly reported) will help shape what influence evangelicals have in American politics for the next generation. It is a heavy responsibility, but Pat Robertson, who is intelligent and articulate, can do it—if:
- He steps out of the pulpit and drops the “Reverend.” He has already wisely resigned as “The 700 Club” host. Not only is there a deeply ingrained tradition against clergy in politics, but for Robertson to run as a reverend creates the impression that he represents the church as a corporate body.
- He makes clear that he is running on his abilities, not on divine mandate. The biblical function of government is to preserve order and promote justice. The first test, therefore, should be as it was when Jethro advised Moses to choose “able men who fear God.” When it comes to whose finger is on the nuclear button, most Americans would agree with Martin Luther’s assertion that he would rather be ruled by a competent Turk than an incompetent Christian.
- He articulates a responsible Christian view of justice, which is little understood by the secular world. He must make clear to both his supporters and his detractors the distinction between the responsibilities of Christians as private citizens and Christians as office holders.
The private citizen is obliged to evangelize, to be salt and light, to “Christianize” his society. But the Christian serving in government, while maintaining his first allegiance to God, has a different public responsibility: it is not to take dominion, it is to preserve evenhanded justice, to protect religious liberty and responsible freedom of all citizens.
Christians are not simply one interest group among many, pursuing their own advantage while others are left to fend for themselves. Biblical justice, in the words of James Skillen, involves “principled pluralisms; and the ‘Christian’ state is one that gives no special public privilege to Christian citizens but seeks justice for all as a matter of principle.”
If Robertson can get this message across to the millions who are now listening, it may be a far greater contribution than anything he could achieve if he won the Oval Office.
