When the Government Decides What Counts as 'Biblical'
Again and again, rulers have sought to wield faith as a weapon, shaping doctrine to suit their own ends. It is a tale as old as empire.
In a recent article for Broadview Magazine, I reflected on Bishop Mariann Budde’s sermon at the National Prayer Service—a call to unity and mercy, and a reminder that leaders are called to transcend division and foster healing.
Yet, even as she preached grace, a different narrative was emerging in the halls of power. U.S. Rep. Josh Brecheen introduced a resolution in the United States House of Representatives, H.Res.59, condemning Bishop Budde's words, attempting to dictate which interpretations of scripture are acceptable and which are not. The resolution condemned what it called a "distorted message," raising serious concerns about the government's role in defining religious doctrine and the dangerous precedent such actions could set.
When the State Plays Theologian
It is an audacious thing, this belief that politicians hold the authority to proclaim which interpretations of scripture are pure and which are polluted. It is as if they see themselves not just as lawmakers, but as arbiters of sacred texts, standing in judgment over generations of theological wrestling. What arrogance, to assume that the divine can be confined to the narrow margins of political expediency! If the state can declare one theological stance invalid, what is to stop it from doing the same to others?
Historical Parallels
History hums with the echoes of this dangerous overreach. Again and again, rulers have sought to wield faith as a weapon, shaping doctrine to suit their own ends. It is a tale as old as empire.
Consider the English Reformation, where Henry VIII’s hunger for power and progeny led him to sever ties with Rome, declaring himself the Supreme Head of the Church of England. No longer content to be king alone, he cast himself as a theologian, reshaping the church with royal decree. Those who refused to accept his authority, like Sir Thomas More, were met not with debate, but with execution. Of course, there was much that was awful within the Vatican. However, it was Henry's desire to marry whom he wished and control the English church's wealth, not his concern about abuse, that led to his break from the church.
Under Nazi Germany, Christianity was forced into servitude under the Reich. The government crafted a church in its own image, preaching a gospel of racial superiority. But not all bowed. The Confessing Church, led by voices like Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Karl Barth, stood firm, resisting the defilement of faith.
The Soviet Union, rather than bending faith to its will, sought to obliterate it altogether. Churches were dismantled, clergy imprisoned, Bibles confiscated. Yet faith persisted, whispered in underground gatherings, carried in the hearts of believers who refused to let their worship be dictated by the state.
Even in democratic societies, political figures have sought to dictate what faith should mean. The Civil Rights Movement bore witness to this. Black church leaders found themselves condemned by those who claimed faith as a shield for oppression. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. wrote from his cell in Birmingham, speaking directly to clergy who had chosen the comfort of silence over the risk of resistance.
These histories are warnings. When governments entangle themselves in theology, they do not elevate faith; they corrupt it.
What Was Done?
Yet, always, there are those who resist.
The Confessing Church, though small, defied the Reich. They gathered in secret, wrote declarations of faith that refused to bow to the state’s demands. Bonhoeffer, Barth, and others bore witness, even as prisons filled and lives were lost. Bonhoeffer paid for his defiance with his life.
In the Soviet Union, faith went underground, believers gathering in hidden places, murmuring prayers under the watchful eye of informants. Smuggled Bibles became more precious than gold, carried in trembling hands, read by candlelight.
During the Civil Rights Movement, pastors and faith leaders stood before congregations, proclaiming that justice and righteousness could not be legislated away. They marched. They preached. They sang, even within jail cells. Their faith was not dictated by presidents or governors, but by a higher call.
Each act of defiance was an act of faith. Each refusal to let the government dictate belief was a declaration that faith does not belong to power—it belongs to the people.
What Canadian's of Faith Can Do
For those in Canada who value a faith rooted in justice, there are concrete steps we can take. In moments where it counts, we can write to elected representatives, urging them to resist government overreach into matters of faith.
We can support churches and organizations that champion inclusive theology and refuse to let faith be co-opted for political gain.
We can engage in interfaith initiatives, fostering alliances that stand against religious manipulation and uphold the dignity of all traditions.
Within our own communities, we can ensure that scripture is interpreted through the lens of love, justice, and compassion by hosting study groups, advocating for ethical leadership, and creating spaces where marginalized voices are heard and uplifted. By taking these actions, we safeguard faith as a force for liberation rather than a tool of control.
At the same time, we must recognize the difference between resisting government overreach and misusing religious freedom as a weapon. "Progressive" or mainline Christians reject state control over theology because faith should not be dictated by politicians. However, some "fundamentalist" Christians invoke religious freedom to justify denying service to LGBTQ+ individuals or to legislate restrictions on reproductive rights. There is a stark contrast between defending the right to worship freely and using faith as a means of imposing personal beliefs on others. True religious freedom should protect all people, not empower discrimination.
Scriptural Examples of Pushing Back Against Government
The prophets of old knew this struggle well.
Isaiah stood against leaders who cloaked themselves in piety while trampling the poor. "Stop bringing meaningless offerings!" he cried. "Your incense is detestable to me!" (Isaiah 1:13). He saw the hollowness of their worship, the hypocrisy of their faith when unaccompanied by justice.
Jeremiah, the weeping prophet, refused to be silenced by kings who wanted only good news. Thrown into a cistern, abandoned and ridiculed, he continued to proclaim truth. "They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious. 'Peace, peace,' they say, when there is no peace" (Jeremiah 6:14). He knew the danger of pretending that all was well when it was not.
Amos, a shepherd turned prophet, thundered against those who saw faith as a tool for wealth and power. "Let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!" (Amos 5:24). His voice was not welcome in the halls of the powerful, yet it rang through history, a call to resist, to rise, to refuse the corruption of faith.
Each of these voices reminds us: faith must not be defined by kings or politicians. It is the cry of the neglected and the breath of the divine in places of suffering.
The Danger of Silence
If we do not resist government-controlled theology, we risk losing the soul of the church. Those who challenge Christian nationalism are not distorting scripture—they are calling us back to its heart. The real distortion happens when faith is used to justify exceptionalism, racism, and scapegoating.
Our resistance is about more than pushing back against a single politician or policy. It is about safeguarding the integrity of faith itself, ensuring that it remains a beacon of love and justice rather than a tool of control. The prophets stood against rulers who manipulated religion for power. The early church defied empire to remain faithful to Christ. The question before us now is whether we will have the courage to do the same.
Will we be silent? Or will we speak, act, and live in a way that proclaims that faith belongs to the people—not to the powerful?
The choice is ours.