Tim Keller, the late Presbyterian pastor and author, was skilled at navigating culture, politics, and faith. One of the gifts he left us was a distinctly Christian alternative to the dominant political and cultural narratives of our time. Known as “third way” or “third-wayism,” it’s a call for Christians to advocate for the kingdom of God amidst, and sometimes against, the cultural currents.
Importantly, Keller’s view is not an invitation to abstain from politics altogether. In his 2018 NYT article, “How Do Christians Fit Into the Two-Party System? They Don’t,” he writes, “The Bible shows believers as holding important posts in pagan governments — think of Joseph and Daniel in the Old Testament. Christians should be involved politically as a way of loving our neighbors, whether they believe as we do or not. To work for better public schools or for a justice system not weighted against the poor or to end racial segregation requires political engagement... ” He goes on to write, “Nevertheless… they should not identify the Christian church or faith with a political party as the only Christian one” and lists several reasons for his case.
Regrettably, what Keller warned about has come true. For many Evangelicals today, conservatism, the Republican Party, even the MAGA sect, have become extensions of Christianity itself.
Criticisms of the Third Way
Last year, some of the most famous Contemporary Christian Music (CCM) singers opened at Charlie Kirk’s memorial-rally—artists whose songs are sung in churches across the world. It was quite the sight, campaign rally cries flanked by worship songs and gospel-altar calls, the arena’s hands raised both toward God and in political praise. It was one of the most explicit blurrings of sacred and political in recent times.
But it’s simply the fruit of what has been happening in arenas, political rallies, and social media platforms across the country—the latest expression of a movement called Christian nationalism. Paul Miller, a professor at Georgetown and author of the book The Religion of American Greatness: What’s Wrong with Christian Nationalism, defines Christian nationalism as “the belief that the American nation is defined by Christianity, and that the government should take active steps to keep it that way. Popularly, Christian nationalists assert that America is and must remain a ‘Christian nation’—not merely as an observation about American history, but as a prescriptive program for what America must continue to be in the future.” Beyond a religion or free expression of faith, they believe that Christianity is a cultural heritage that must be enshrined in government.
While the general base of Christian nationalists seems to have stayed stable since 2022, its supporters are getting louder, bolder. Now 59% of U.S. adults say they have heard or read about Christian nationalism, a 14-point increase in two years.
Supporters of this view, including conservative Evangelical commentators like Allie Beth Stuckey, have been quick to criticize nonconformists like Keller. Their charge is that third-way is too lukewarm, intended to water down the Christian message for the sake of cultural appeasement. They fear it has smuggled in progressive values and instead champion a confrontational approach that treats conservatism as Christian, progressivism as un-Christian, and moderation as concession.
Yet despite these bold accusations, they seem to misunderstand Keller. Stuckey, Alisa Childers, and others caricature his view as centrism—a compromise between the two political parties. This is disingenuous. Researcher and writer Chris Watkins says it like this: “rather than crudely splitting the difference in this way, third-way thinking is about letting the Bible set its own table—unfold its own categories and tell its own story in its own way—rather than squeezing it in awkwardly between existing ideologies at a table set by others. Only when the Bible has first been allowed to speak in its own terms can we bring it into meaningful conversation with secular ideologies.”
Keller himself clarified: “Christians should never seek a middle ground for its own sake.” He insisted that we should actively follow the Bible wherever it leads us—left or right. In response, Stuckey argues that the Right has the moral high ground, that it’s aligned with Christianity on all issues. She points to Democratic stances on abortion, gender ideology, and hostility to religious institutions—moral evils that neutrality risks enabling.
She’s partially right. The stakes are high, and there are serious issues with the Left that Christians must oppose. In fact, one of the defining features of the early church was its firm stance against Roman infanticide, abortion, and other moral evils. Even John the Baptist was beheaded for speaking out against Herod’s marital immorality. But again, third way ≠ neutrality. Keller’s view calls Christians to stand against any vision of “freedom” divorced from holiness and human flourishing, such as progressivism’s reduction of sexual ethics to consent alone. Christians should not affirm every cultural movement simply because it is labeled “compassionate” or “liberating.” None of this is at odds with third way.
Moreover, it’s not just the Left that has anti-Biblical policy; the GOP has taken increasingly extreme positions, rolling back clean energy and environmental policies or vehemently dispelling undocumented immigrants. Whereas the Bible compels readers to steward the earth (Genesis 2:15), care for the oppressed and marginalized (Isaiah 1:17, Luke 4:18-19, Deuteronomy 10:18-19, Micah 6:8, etc.), and love the sojourner (throughout the Torah). In Matthew 7:15-20, Jesus explains that false prophets can be exposed, like a bad tree, by their rotten fruit. The rhetoric of right-wing populism is ridden with stereotypes, pride, and anger.
The Sins of Christian Nationalism
Across the board, politics has become a new religion in our secularized age. Finkel et al. describe our growing divide as “political sectarianism.” Americans are less willing than ever to date, marry, or even live near someone from the opposing party. Left and right are developing their own creeds, heresies, and saints. But more than this, I fear that Christian nationalism is guilty of a greater idolatry: by erasing the line between faith and government, the kingdom of America has replaced the kingdom of God.
Its core mission is to preserve America as a Christian nation through political power. But this risks elevating it into a role Scripture reserves for the church: the primary witness to God’s kingdom on earth. Throughout Jesus’ ministry and climaxing at Pentecost, God’s covenant people are no longer identified with a nation-state, but with the church, a community of disciples from every tribe, tongue, and nation. The church, not America, is commissioned to embody the kingdom here on earth. But instead, it has been relegated to something like a political cheerleader.
The deeper issue is with the movement’s foundational philosophy, which is rooted in power and dominance. It’s not uncommon to hear language like “greatness,” “supremacy,” “dominance over other nations” when advocates describe America. These characteristics also apply to those inside the movement itself. Historically, its members are overwhelmingly white (the consequence of joining Christianity to cultural inheritance), and its program politically hostile to immigrants, refugees, and the poor. But this is not the vocabulary of the kingdom Jesus announced. He described his kingdom as belonging to the poor in spirit, the meek, the lowly; his throne was a cross. Can you even call Christian nationalism, then, “Christian?”
In the book of Acts, the story of the early church, the first worshippers of Jesus called themselves followers of “the Way” (9:2, 19:9, 24:14), a reference to the life and mission of Jesus. They were completely devoted to the gospel, which, as I demonstrated in my previous article, was an explicitly political message. Jesus was executed on political charges (”king of the Jews”) because the kingdom he claimed to be bringing was a rival to Caesar’s. To confess “Jesus is Lord” during that period was to also declare, “Caesar is not.” [See my previous essay for a fuller treatment of the gospel’s political essence.]
This is what makes Christian nationalism a blatant inversion: it enlists a movement whose founding message was in opposition to empire, or earthly power, in the service of nationalist empire-building. In Biblical terms, it’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The Way of Jesus was always political, but for a kingdom greater than every nation on earth, including this one.
The First Way
The third way was never really a “third”—it’s a recovering of the first. It returns to Christianity’s original name, “the Way,” and its vision of a kingdom that stands above every nation. It calls us to support policies and politicians that love our neighbors: the protection of the innocent, compassion for the poor and powerless, feeding the hungry, protecting all life, stewarding the environment.
What does this look like practically, though? Keller admits, “there are many possible ways to help the poor. Should we shrink government and let private capital markets allocate resources, or should we expand the government… The Bible does not give exact answers to these questions for every time, place and culture.” But that is the point—”Christians…cannot allow the church to be fully identified with any particular party…” It should be reasonable for Christians to have different political strategies for best loving their neighbors. Our politics should be nuanced, absent of so-called “package deals.” At the same time, the Way often leads us against cultural currents. If certain policies are truly incompatible with the Way of Jesus, Christians are obligated to speak out.
When we realize that the message of Jesus is indeed political—not for empires but for the kingdom of God—everything comes into focus. This kingdom is still breaking in today through spiritual liberation, people being restored, and communities living as new creations. More than government, God’s kingdom is being unveiled in meek, ordinary moments: a public display of vulnerability that opens wounds to the redemptive power of the Spirit, a church embodying compassion for a group of refugees in need of support, a youth group studying Bible passages, markers and highlighters in hand, at a small table in an upper room. This is the work of the church, not a party or government, that trudges through the muck of the world, leaving Jesus’ life in its wake.
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This is the second in a series of essays about what Jesus really preached and what it means to follow him today, politically, culturally, and practically. Read my previous essay here:
Loved this! It inspired me and informed how I voted today for California polls!