SOME U.S. CHRISTIANS fear that the world is in chaos. These Christians have felt their cultural influence waning as our nation becomes more racially, religiously, and culturally diverse. This “chaos” extends to Sunday worship as once-robust congregations dwindle, tithing decreases, young people leave the church, and denominations split under the pressure of politically motivated culture wars. As someone raised in and deeply formed by the evangelical tradition, I have experienced this panic. It is terrifying.
In response, I’ve seen my Christian peers desperately attempt to control our world by donning red MAGA hats and aligning themselves with political strongmen and bullies. They attain positions of power in an authoritarian regime, place guards at the gates of “doctrinal purity,” and advocate for a Christian nationalism that elevates their rights at the expense of the rights of others.
The question we must ask, though, is if Christians should be in control. Is control the task that God has for us? Is gaining control over others the faithful way to worship God and act neighborly in this chaotic world?
But that does not mean that all control is bad. Wielding power and control becomes disordered when they are treated as ultimate goods. In “On Christian Teaching,” fourth century theologian Augustine of Hippo provides a helpful framework for this: “enjoyment” and “use.” To enjoy something is to treat it as the highest good — as an end in itself. To use something, then, is to put that thing in service to what we ultimately enjoy. God has given us some things to be used for the sake of something beyond them, while others exist to be ultimately enjoyed in themselves. The things that we enjoy, Augustine says, are what we ought to love.
This may sound familiar. Earlier this year, Vice President JD Vance invoked Augustine’s ordo amoris (“order of loves”) to explain his America First policy. Describing such as an “old school ... Christian concept,” Vance argued that love should first be directed to family, then neighbor, and then community and fellow citizens. Only after this, said Vance, can we “focus and prioritize the rest of the world.” Vance concluded with a slam on those who think differently: “The Far Left has completely inverted that. They seem to hate the citizens of their own country and care more about people outside their own borders. That is no way to run a society.”
From Vance’s statements, it is not hard to see that MAGA’s “order of love” puts national power above God and neighbor. In this order, Christian faith submits to a political vision of society. It sees “the stranger” (Matthew 25:35), but instead of offering welcome, it sends ICE officers to raid communities, schools, and churches. It sees those who are hungry, but cuts funding to food banks and USAID. It sees the sick, but cuts Medicaid. It sees Black and brown bodies and assumes criminality or terrorism. It sees religious diversity as an attack on Christianity. It is willfully blind to queer and trans people and creates legislation to erase their presence. Yet, Christ teaches: “Just as you did it to one of the least of these, you did it to me” (Matthew 25:40). It is true: The good road of Jesus is a terrible way to run a society if the ultimate task is to prioritize self-interest, political power, national expansion, and unitary control.
In response to Vance, the late Pope Francis wrote, “Christian love is not a concentric expansion of interests that little by little extend to other persons and groups. ... The true ordo amoris that must be promoted is [discovered] by meditating constantly on the parable of the ‘good Samaritan’ ... that is, by meditating on the love that builds a fraternity open to all, without exception.”
Jesus knew that when we begin to enjoy control rather than use it to enact love for our neighbors, we’ve lost the very practice that ought to set us apart from the world. His final command to his disciples was “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35). Christ’s call is not to control; it is to love our neighbors. Therefore, our definition of neighbor must be expansive, not restrictive. Jesus does not teach us to love based on “closeness”; he reverses our paradigm of neighbor-love by making the Samaritan outsider the exemplar of compassion (see Luke 10).
In response to this deeply disordered quest for control, Christian leaders must heed Pope Francis’ teaching and choose the path of neighbor-love. This doesn’t mean that we abandon our society’s common life. Rather, we must reimagine what this common life might look like. We must reckon with the devastating consequences of a false theology of disordered love and follow the example of Christ, who rejected the temptations to disordered power and understood that any power he attained was only to serve the greater loves before him: God and neighbor.
By returning control to its rightful place as something we use rather than enjoy, we are released to the radical, loving possibilities of moving in and through this world with the gospel recognition that “Jesus Christ is Lord” (Philippians 2:11) and we are not. In this Christian freedom, we can love God, live faithfully, and act neighborly in a world that we do not control.
Amar D. Peterman is an Indian American scholar working at the intersection of faith and public life. He is writing a book on seeking the common good, to be published by Eerdmans. You can follow his work at amarpeterman.com.
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