​When Your Neighbor 
​is a Christian Nationalist

A Process-Relational Approach


​Jay McDaniel
​
​

Sources and Approach

Shortly I will tell you a little about two neighbors of mine: Greg and Alice. Greg is a Christian nationalist and Alice is a United Methodist. Greg lives two doors to my right and Alice lives two doors to my left. I like them both, but I don't like Greg's Christian nationalism. I am a Methodist like Alice. We believe in a God who transcends national boundaries and includes all. We worry about the consequences of Christian nationalism: its misogyny, its violence, its disdain for 'outsiders,' its treatment of immigrants, its authoritarianism. We see it as a threat. Still, Alice and I both like Greg. He doesn't seem evil to us. He seems kind. 

My subject, then, is Christian nationalism—why people like Greg embrace it and how people like Alice (and like me) might respond critically but lovingly, with an emphasis on relationships not shaming. In many circles that I inhabit, almost all "liberal" by Greg's definition, Christian nationalism is evil, pure and simple, and any hint of love, even for people who embrace it, is out of the question. It can seem blasphemous to say anything nice about a Christian nationalist. It is as evil to us "liberals" as is liberalism to many people like Greg. But as a Christian I just can't see shutting out people. If God loves everybody, God loves Greg, too, and I should do the same. It's not hard. Like I said, he's a kind man.

So what is Christian nationalism? Here I follow the lead of Nilay Saiya, Associate Professor of Public Policy and Global Affairs at Nanyang Technological University in Singapore. I include a talk given by him below, given at Harvard University, in conversation with David N. Hempton, Harvard University Distinguished Service Professor and Alonzo L. McDonald Family Professor of Evangelical Theological Studies.

Saiya, a scholar of religion and global politics, is the author of Weapon of Peace: How Religious Liberty Combats Terrorism (Cambridge University Press, 2018) and The Global Politics of Jesus: A Christian Case for Church-State Separation (Oxford University Press, 2022). His research, along with the broader academic literature on Christian nationalism, informs the definitions, descriptions, and analyses that follow.

Underlying my approach is a theological presupposition true to the spirit of process theology: God is a God of love, dwelling in all hearts as an inwardly felt lure to love and care for others, to create communities of care, and to leave no one out. Like other process theologians, I don't think the future is known in advance by God, and that today there are various possibilities for how the world unfolds. I'm hoping for a world that Alice would like, and that is revealed, politics aside, in the kindness of Greg.

When Your Neighbor
​is a Christian Nationalist

The Neighborhood

My neighbor down the street, Greg, waves when I pass, as do his two daughters. His wife passed away last year. He’s helped me carry heavy groceries up the steps when my back was out. He trims the hedges of elderly neighbors and helps people jump-start their cars in the winter. He owns a small business in town and treats his employees well. He’s the kind of person who’ll stop to fix a sagging mailbox or lend a ladder without being asked. He’s friendly, dependable, and, in many ways, a good neighbor. He is also a Christian nationalist.

Greg belongs to a local non-denominational church influenced by the New Apostolic Reformation (NAR), a loosely connected movement that teaches Christians—specifically charismatic Christians—are called to take control of the seven spheres of society: government, media, education, business, family, religion, and entertainment. There’s a flag in his front yard with a pine tree and the words Appeal to Heaven—a symbol of the movement’s spiritual warfare and political ambition. He listens to voices like Mike Johnson, Josh Hawley, and Ted Cruz who tell him that America was founded as a Christian nation and must be reclaimed for Christ. He doesn’t see this as a threat to democracy; he sees it as obedience to God. He is glad that President Trump chose Paula White—an NAR-aligned pastor—as a spiritual advisor, and he has high hopes that JD Vance, though Catholic, might also help advance the cause.

Another neighbor, Alice, doesn’t know what to make of Greg's politics. Like Greg, she’s a Christian—a United Methodist like me—and her faith shapes the way she lives. She, too, has two daughters, and her daughters play on the same basketball team as Greg's. She’s a nurse by profession and a quiet, steady presence in the neighborhood: sitting with the dying, checking on elders who live alone, organizing meals for families in crisis. She’s seen Greg do good things, too, and knows that he is sincere in his convictions.

She and Greg are friends; I've seen them working alongside each other on a neighborhood clean-up day. I often see them laughing when things seem funny. Alice likes Greg and enjoys being around him.

But she’s deeply unsettled by the flag in his yard, the militant tone of his church, and the politicians he admires. She wonders how someone so outwardly kind can support a movement that seeks to impose one version of Christianity on everyone else. Unlike Greg, she doesn’t believe that Christians are being persecuted in America—not when they are still the majority, hold political power, and worship freely.

To Alice, Christian nationalism feels less like faith and more like control. And she suspects that for some—perhaps even Greg—it is a cover for white Christian nationalism, driven by nostalgia for a version of America that never truly existed: white, middle class, and culturally dominant. She’s noticed that most members of the New Apostolic Reformation are white, and she hasn’t forgotten that the January 6 assault on the Capitol was not only political—it was, in many ways, a Christian nationalist event, complete with crosses, prayers, and banners invoking the name of Jesus. Greg thinks they were 'patriots.' Alice believes in religious freedom and civic equality. And she’s worried—worried that Greg’s vision of Christianity, no matter how heartfelt, is being used to erode both. 

Differences

Greg and Alice have different understandings of God. For Greg, God is a sovereign ruler and a divine commander who blesses nations that submit to his law and withdraws favor from those that don’t. He believes the United States was founded as a Christian nation and must return to its biblical roots through political and cultural dominance. For Alice, God is love—steadfast, inclusive, and just. Her United Methodist faith teaches that God's kingdom is not built through political power, but through humility, compassion, and service to others. Where Greg sees faithfulness in taking back the nation, Alice sees it in loving one’s neighbor—especially the vulnerable and the different. 

Greg and Alice also hold very different images of the kind of community God seeks for the world. Greg imagines a nation united under God’s law, where Christian values shape public policy, schools teach biblical morality, and cultural authority rests in the hands of believers. It is, for him, a vision of order and divine favor—something he sees as both achievable and necessary for the country to thrive. Alice, by contrast, envisions a beloved community marked by justice, inclusion, and compassion. For her, God's dream is not uniformity but beloved diversity—a world where people of many faiths (and none) live together in mutual respect, where power is shared, not seized, and where love of neighbor takes precedence over cultural control. Greg’s vision sees walls that protect people; Alice’s builds bridges. He looks for dominion; she looks for relationship. And in that difference lies a fundamental theological divide—not just about who God is, but about what God wants for the human family.

Three Faces of Christian Nationalism in America

Neither Greg nor Alice would likely use the phrase Christian nationalism, nor do they have a clear sense of the different strands it takes within American religious and political life. For Greg, it’s about being faithful to God and patriotic toward his country. For Alice, it’s something that feels vaguely threatening to democracy and religious freedom. What they don’t always recognize is that Christian nationalism is not a single movement, but a constellation of related convictions that take on distinct forms in different religious settings.

At its core, Christian nationalism is the belief that the United States is, or ought to be, a Christian nation—not simply in terms of demographics or personal belief, but in its laws, cultural norms, public institutions, and national identity. It asserts that the health of the country depends on maintaining its Christian character and that political action is required to preserve or restore that identity. While many who hold this belief may be sincere in their faith and motivated by concern for moral values, the ideology of Christian nationalism involves much more than religious conviction—it involves a vision for how power should be distributed and to whom it should belong.

Though united by this overarching goal, Christian nationalism in the United States takes at least three distinct forms, each rooted in its own theological tradition and cultural style:

Charismatic Dominionism

This strand is common in Pentecostal and charismatic churches, including the one Greg attends. It is associated with the New Apostolic Reformation and the belief that Christians are called to exercise influence—or "take dominion"—over seven key spheres of society: government, education, media, business, family, religion, and the arts. This vision is often linked to what is known as the Seven Mountains Mandate. Leaders in this movement view political engagement as a form of spiritual warfare and often speak in urgent, prophetic language about reclaiming America for God. Its reach has expanded through figures like Paula White, and its influence can be seen in churches where worship, politics, and spiritual battle language are deeply intertwined.

Reformed or Calvinist Nationalism

Rooted in Reformed theology, this version emphasizes the sovereignty of God, moral order, and the role of civil government in enforcing Christian values. It is often more doctrinally structured and intellectually driven than charismatic dominionism. Figures like Stephen Wolfe, author of The Case for Christian Nationalism, and Doug Wilson, pastor of Christ Church in Moscow, Idaho, advocate a vision of society in which Christianity shapes public life from the top down—through law, education, and cultural institutions. Though smaller in numbers, this strand has a strong presence in certain publishing circles, theological schools, and conservative homeschooling networks.

Catholic Integralism

Less widespread but gaining traction, Catholic integralism promotes the idea that the Catholic Church should exert direct influence over the state. Integralists reject the post–Vatican II embrace of liberal democracy and argue that civil government should be subordinated to Catholic moral teaching. While still largely an intellectual movement, it has found support among some Catholic scholars and media figures. Politicians like J.D. Vance, though not necessarily integralist himself, are watched closely by those who hope to see a revival of this Catholic political tradition in American life.

These three forms of Christian nationalism differ in tone, theology, and tactics, but they share a common desire to align the nation’s identity and structures with a particular religious vision. Greg may not distinguish between them, and Alice may see only the broader threat. But understanding these internal differences helps clarify why Christian nationalism is both so pervasive and so complex—a layered movement that touches many corners of American religious and political life.

Global Context

Christian nationalism is not uniquely American. Around the world, versions of it have taken root in diverse cultural and political contexts, often aligning Christianity with nationalist ideologies to consolidate power and marginalize dissent. In Brazil, former President Jair Bolsonaro cultivated a strong evangelical base, framing his political agenda in spiritual terms and presenting himself as a defender of “family values” and divine order. In Hungary, Prime Minister Viktor Orbán invokes Christian identity to promote anti-immigration policies and justify restrictions on civil liberties. In Russia, Vladimir Putin has aligned with the Russian Orthodox Church, using traditional Christian rhetoric to frame military aggression and internal social policy as part of a moral crusade. In parts of Africa, particularly Nigeria and Uganda, Christian nationalism blends with anti-colonial sentiment and cultural conservatism, often fueling campaigns against LGBTQ+ rights and reinforcing patriarchal structures, with pastors and politicians invoking divine authority to resist what they view as Western secular influence. These global manifestations differ in theology, tradition, and political structure, but they share key elements: a fusion of religious identity with national identity, the use of Christian symbolism to advance political agendas, and the suppression of religious pluralism.

The Appeal of Christian Nationalism

Christian nationalism in the United States appeals to many people—not only Greg—because it speaks to deep fears and longings. It offers clarity in a confusing world, stability in a time of rapid change, and identity in a culture where many feel increasingly unseen or unheard. For those who perceive moral decline, cultural fragmentation, and spiritual emptiness in public life, Christian nationalism offers a vision of reclamation: the idea that things can be restored to how they once were—or how they’re remembered to have been.

It also appeals to people who feel disoriented by pluralism. The growing visibility of other religions, shifting norms around gender and sexuality, and the perceived secularization of public spaces can feel, to some, like a personal loss. Christian nationalism interprets that discomfort as evidence of persecution, even if Christians still hold significant cultural and political power. In this light, asserting Christian identity through the state feels like both a moral obligation and a form of self-defense.

For many, especially in rural or small-town communities, Christian nationalism is wrapped up in a broader sense of cultural belonging. Church, family, and country are often experienced as a single fabric. To unravel one thread—for instance, to suggest that America was not founded as a Christian nation—can feel like unraveling all of it. The appeal is not just theological or political—it’s emotional, even existential.

Christian nationalism also resonates with those who are tired of political and moral ambiguity. It offers a binary worldview: right and wrong, saved and lost, Christian and un-Christian. In a time of political cynicism and moral exhaustion, this clarity can be comforting—even energizing. For some, it restores a sense of agency and purpose: to be part of a righteous remnant reclaiming the soul of a nation.

It’s important to acknowledge these motivations—not to excuse them, but to understand them. People like Greg are not drawn to Christian nationalism because they’re driven by hatred. More often, they’re drawn to it because they are driven by fear, loyalty, and a desire for meaning. But good intentions do not make for good outcomes. 

The appeal of Christian nationalism is real. But so are its consequences. While many who embrace it do so out of sincere belief and a desire to see goodness prevail in public life, the effects of Christian nationalism on society—politically, socially, and spiritually—are often far more destructive than intended. What begins as devotion can end in division. What starts as a hope for moral clarity can evolve into a system of exclusion and control.

Political Consequences: A Strain on Democracy

Christian nationalism often erodes the democratic values it claims to defend. By seeking to align the nation’s identity with one religion, it undermines the principle of equal citizenship. It implicitly divides Americans into two groups: those who belong and those who don’t—those who are seen as part of the Christian nation, and those who are viewed as outsiders or even threats.

It also fosters support for authoritarian leaders who present themselves as defenders of Christian values, even when their behavior contradicts those very values. Political figures who promise to “restore” Christian America are often granted moral license by supporters, even as they weaken democratic norms. The peaceful transfer of power, respect for pluralism, and protections for minority rights all become negotiable when seen as obstacles to a higher religious mission.

Greg likely wouldn’t see himself as anti-democratic. But the vision he supports elevates one religion—and often one cultural group—above others. And when that happens, democracy becomes less about representation and more about religious rule.

Social Consequences: A Culture of Division and Violence

Christian nationalism also contributes to increasing polarization in American society. By framing political disagreements as spiritual warfare, it makes compromise feel like betrayal. Public debates are no longer just about policy—they become battles between good and evil, God and godlessness. This sharpens divisions not only between religious and secular people, but between different kinds of Christians.

It also opens the door to violence, especially when paired with rhetoric that casts opponents as enemies of God. The January 6 assault on the U.S. Capitol was not just political—it was deeply religious in tone. Crosses were carried. Prayers were shouted. Banners read Jesus Saves. What unfolded that day was, in part, a Christian nationalist uprising—fueled by the belief that divine destiny justified breaking laws and overturning elections.

Even apart from outright violence, Christian nationalism encourages social exclusion—especially toward Muslims, Jews, atheists, immigrants, LGBTQ+ people, and Christians who dissent from the dominant narrative. It pushes society toward a rigid moral hierarchy, where some people are seen as legitimate Americans and others as threats to be silenced or converted.

Spiritual Consequences: A Distortion of the Faith

Perhaps the most ironic—and heartbreaking—consequence of Christian nationalism is what it does to Christianity itself. Far from strengthening the faith, it often hollows it out. In countries where Christianity becomes closely tied to state power, research shows that religious vitality tends to decline, not grow. People lose interest in a faith that has become too closely aligned with politics, especially when that alignment breeds hypocrisy and exclusion.

Spiritually, Christian nationalism can become a form of idolatry—not the worship of money or power, but the worship of the nation itself, draped in religious language. The cross becomes a flagpole. The gospel becomes a political slogan. God is reduced from the Creator of all people to the private defender of a single tribe.

Greg, like many, believes he is being faithful. But in tying his faith so tightly to a political movement, he risks confusing the kingdom of God with the kingdoms of this world. The church becomes less a vessel of grace and more an instrument of control. And those watching from the outside—people like Alice—begin to wonder if Christianity is really about love, or just another strategy for power.

A Better Way Forward: Eight Practical Steps

If there is a better way forward, it will not come by shaming or silencing people like Greg. Nor will it come by denying the real beauty that often lives side by side with the distortions of Christian nationalism: the neighborliness, the loyalty, the yearning for moral clarity, the love of family and community. These things are not the problem. In fact, they may be the seeds of transformation.

A common progressive Christian response to Christian nationalism is to declare that it is “not truly Christian.” This reaction can be theologically sound and morally necessary. It can also feel emotionally satisfying to those making the claim—a way of standing firm, protecting the faith, and drawing a clear moral line. But satisfaction for the speaker is not the same as transformation for the listener. In practice, such statements often land as condemnation. For those inside the movement, they can feel like personal attacks from outsiders and are quickly dismissed as partisan or elitist.

The result? They rarely change minds. Instead, they tend to reinforce existing divisions: progressives feel vindicated; Christian nationalists feel embattled; and the conversation ends before it begins.

If our hope is genuine change—not just holding the moral high ground—we need more than shaming. We need responses that build trust, open space for dialogue, model an alternative way of living the faith, and allow critique to come from within as well as without.

The eight strategies below do not replace theological clarity or moral courage, but they complement them with practical, relational, and civic approaches that invite transformation instead of hardening opposition.

1. Model an Alternative Way of Being Christian

Live your faith in ways that radiate compassion, humility, generosity, hospitality, and justice. Build genuine, neighborly relationships that quietly show another way to follow Christ—one that does not rely on dominance or exclusion.

2. Encourage Insider Critique

Support and amplify voices within the same theological and cultural world who reject Christian nationalism—such as Christians Against Christian Nationalism. Critique from insiders often carries more credibility and is harder to dismiss than that from outside.

3. Work Together on Common Ground

Collaborate on shared concerns—disaster relief, hunger programs, foster care, addiction recovery, or veteran support. Serving alongside each other can humanize the “other side” and open the door to deeper understanding.

4. Use Story and Testimony

Share personal stories that show Christianity rooted in love, humility, and service rather than conquest or control. Stories engage the heart and imagination, making them harder to ignore than purely abstract arguments.

5. Reframe the Bible

Engage scripture directly, interpreting it in ways that affirm pluralism, justice, and peacemaking. Show that the Bible’s vision of God’s kingdom is far broader and more inclusive than the narrow boundaries set by nationalist ideology.

6. Practice Historical Honesty

Offer a clear, humble telling of the history of church-state relations and the actual role Christianity played in America’s founding—acknowledging both its contributions to justice and its complicity in oppression. Presented respectfully, historical truth can challenge deeply held myths.

7. Create Third Spaces for Dialogue

Foster forums, book clubs, small groups, or prayer circles where Christians of different political and theological leanings can talk, study scripture, and worship together. Normalize respectful disagreement within the body of Christ, showing that unity does not require uniformity.

8. Vote Out Politicians Who Promote Christian Nationalism

Engagement at the ballot box matters. Support candidates—across party lines—who uphold religious freedom, respect pluralism, and reject the merging of church and state. Voting is not the only tool for change, but it remains one of the most direct ways to prevent Christian nationalist policies from shaping laws and institutions.

These eight responses are not a magic formula, and they will not dismantle Christian nationalism overnight. But taken together, they offer something more sustainable than shaming and more constructive than silence: ways of living, speaking, and acting that point to a different vision of Christian faith—one centered not on cultural control, but on love, humility, and the common good.

Christian Nationalism in Global Perspective: Nilay Saiya

The video below features a talk by Nilay Saiya, Associate Professor of Public Policy and Global Affairs at Nanyang Technological University in Singapore. He speaks with David N. Hempton, Harvard University Distinguished Service Professor and Alonzo L. McDonald Family Professor of Evangelical Theological Studies. Saiya, a scholar of religion and global politics, is the author of Weapon of Peace: How Religious Liberty Combats Terrorism (Cambridge University Press, 2018) and The Global Politics of Jesus: A Christian Case for Church-State Separation (Oxford University Press, 2022).

 ❖ What Is Christian Nationalism?

Nilay Saiya defines Christian nationalism as:

• An ideology of Christian supremacy in society and politics.
• A political theology and cultural framework that fuses Christianity with a nation’s civic and political life.
• It is both descriptive (claiming the nation was founded as Christian) and prescriptive (arguing it should remain so).
• It seeks the privileging of a certain form of Christianity in public life.

Christian nationalism is linked to:

• Misogyny
• Authoritarianism
• Opposition to science and vaccines
• Violence
• Anti-democratic sentiments

It is increasingly popular both socially and politically, with high-profile supporters such as:
​

• Marjorie Taylor Greene, Josh Hawley, Ron DeSantis, Ted Cruz, etc.

Polls suggest that:

• ~45% of Americans say the U.S. should be a Christian nation.
• ~20-25% say U.S. law should be based on the Bible.

Books like The Case for Christian Nationalism and Christian Nationalism: A Biblical Guide to Taking Dominion are furthering its visibility and support.

❖ The Globalization of Christian Nationalism

Contrary to assumptions, Christian nationalism is not uniquely American. It has gone global, taking different forms:

• United States: Creed-based nationalism, portraying America in a covenant with God.
• Europe: More about identity and belonging, not covenant—used as a cultural and civilizational marker.
• Russia: Close alliance between Putin and the Russian Orthodox Church, providing theological backing for policies, including war.
• Africa:
  • In Central African Republic, Christian nationalism is linked to ethnic cleansing of Muslims.
  • In Uganda, it fuels violent persecution of LGBTQ+ communities, supported by American evangelicals.
• Brazil: Under Bolsonaro (“Trump of the Tropics”), Christian nationalism was central to governance, with widespread evangelical support.

Global Christian nationalism is often a reactionary backlash to:

1. The decline of Christianity in the West.
2. The increase in religious diversity due to immigration.

It creates a victim mindset, where dominant Christians claim to be persecuted when losing privilege. Social media and transnational networks allow Christian nationalists across countries to inspire one another—amplifying the movement globally.

❖ Three Consequences of Christian Nationalism

1. Political Consequences: Corrosion of Democracy
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• Supports authoritarian leaders (e.g., Bolsonaro, Putin).
• Undermines democratic equality by treating religious minorities as threats.
• Threatens peaceful transitions of power, as seen in the January 6 insurrection, which Saiya calls a Christian nationalist riot.

2. Social Consequences: Promotion of Violence

Four drivers in the U.S. context:

• Biblical literalism: Mirroring Old Testament "holy war" narratives.
• Glorification of the Founding Fathers: Using patriotic violence to uphold their perceived vision.
• Cosmic war mindset (from Mark Juergensmeyer): Framing political opponents as satanic enemies.
• Alliances with White supremacist groups: Oath Keepers, Proud Boys, etc.—unified by the belief in a White Christian America.

3. Spiritual Consequences: Harm to Christianity Itself

Threefold spiritual harm:

• Distraction: Focus on maintaining political power dilutes the mission of the church.
• Distortion: Twists the gospel’s inclusive message into an exclusive, nationalistic ideology.
• Idolatry: Replaces God as the highest authority with the nation-state.

Saiya identifies a paradox of privilege: Christianity declines when tied to state power, and flourishes where it competes on an equal footing.

❖ Three Types of American Christian Nationalism (from Q&A)

Saiya identifies three dominant strands in the U.S.:

1. Charismatic Dominionism

• Driven by charismatic Christians who believe in prophecy, tongues, miracles.
• Aim to take over seven spheres of influence (family, religion, education, entertainment, media, business, and government).
• Associated with the New Apostolic Reformation and Seven Mountains Mandate.
• Figures: Paula White, Mike Johnson, Ted Cruz.
• Most politically powerful form.

2. Calvinist Nationalism

• Found in Reformed and Baptist traditions.
• Sees government as an extension of the church.
• Believes civil authority should enforce doctrinal orthodoxy.
• Example: Stephen Wolfe (The Case for Christian Nationalism), Doug Wilson in Moscow, Idaho (building a “Christian city”).

3. Catholic Integralism

• Rejects Vatican II and its embrace of democracy.
• Advocates for a return to state-enforced Catholic orthodoxy.
• Currently fringe, but gaining attention with leaders like JD Vance (U.S. VP), who, while not explicitly integralist, may be seen as a future ally by integralists.

Tensions exist among these strands, particularly between Calvinists and Charismatics, which may lead to fracturing in the future.

❖ Final Thoughts: Is Christian Nationalism Always Harmful?

Saiya acknowledges that in rare cases, Christian nationalism has been tied to liberation struggles (e.g., Poland’s resistance to Communism, perhaps Irish Catholic resistance to British colonialism). However, he argues that Christian nationalism is typically exclusive and oppressive, not liberating. A good litmus test: How are minorities treated?

❖ On Combating Christian Nationalism

Resistance strategies include:

• Speaking out from within the traditions where Christian nationalism thrives (Evangelical, Pentecostal, Charismatic churches).
• Supporting organizations like Christians Against Christian Nationalism, which reject it on explicitly Christian grounds.
• Recognizing that U.S. "guardrails" (Constitution, secularism, democracy) are not immune to erosion—as seen in India, Brazil, and other democracies.

❖ Closing Reflection

The church should be a voice for all, not a servant of nationalist agendas. Unchecked nationalism distorts the gospel, damages democracy, promotes violence, and undermines spiritual integrity. 

“If you're accustomed to privilege, then equality looks like oppression.” — Nilay Saiya

​Christians Against Christian Nationalism 

website -  click here

BJC · Ep. 01: Christian Leaders On Christian Nationalism

"Christian nationalism is not the same as Christianity, and it can be defined and understood in a variety of ways. In this campaign, we define Christian nationalism as “a political ideology that seeks to merge Christian and American identities, distorting both the Christian faith and America’s constitutional democracy.”
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Some people may conflate Christian nationalism and Christianity because they both use the symbols and language of Christianity, such as a Bible, a cross and worship songs. But, Christian nationalism uses the veneer of Christianity to advance its own aims – to point to a political figure, party or ideology instead of Jesus. At Christians Against Christian Nationalism, we sometimes refer to it as “white Christian nationalism” to emphasize its frequent overlap with white supremacy."
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