Citizens of Heaven: Rethinking Patriotism in a Global Gospel, Part 3
Posted on 09/22/2025 at The Curmudgeon’s Chronicle
Patriotism Through a Biblical Lens
I love America. The rolling fields of my rural hometown (that seems to be less rural every time I visit, with new coffee shops and gas stations sprouting faster than corn), the small-town churches where I learned to pray, the quiet pride of a flag raised on Memorial Day – they’re woven into who I am. But as my family prepares to move to Japan to plant churches, I’ve had to wrestle with what it means to love my country as a Christian whose true home isn’t here. Philippians 3:20 says, “For our conversation is in heaven; from whence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ.” That verse doesn’t cancel my love for America – it reshapes it, calling me to a patriotism that serves the gospel’s global mission, not just one nation’s story.
Scripture doesn’t condemn loving your country. In Jeremiah 29:7, God tells the Israelites in exile, “Seek the peace and prosperity of the city whither I have caused you to be carried away captives, and pray unto the Lord for it: for in the peace thereof shall ye have peace.” Even far from home, God called His people to care for their temporary city – to work for its good, to pray for its leaders. I feel that here in America. Romans 13:1 commands, “Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained of God.” I’m called to honor this nation’s laws, pray for its leaders (1 Tim. 2:1-2), and seek its welfare. That’s patriotism, and it’s biblical.
But there’s a line. When patriotism exalts one nation – or one culture – above the gospel, it becomes an idol. The Great Commission doesn’t stop at borders: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations” (Matt. 28:19). My love for America must fit within that call, not compete with it. Some Christian voices, like Steven Wolfe, argue for a patriotism tied to a specific cultural heritage. In The Case for Christian Nationalism, Wolfe emphasizes a unified national culture, often rooted in Protestant traditions, as essential for a godly society. But this vision risks prioritizing one cultural identity over the gospel’s universal call. Scripture tells a different story. Acts 17:26 declares, “And hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth.” God’s design isn’t one culture lifted above others – it’s a shared humanity united in Christ.
This isn’t just theology – it’s personal. As I prepare to move to Japan, where less than 1% know Jesus, I’m not leaving America because I’ve stopped loving it. I’m going because my citizenship in heaven redefines how I love any earthly home. Japan doesn’t need to become ‘American’ to meet Christ. Its people – its language, its traditions, its history – need the gospel, not my culture. Likewise, when an immigrant family moves next door, or I meet someone of a different culture in the grocery store, or a family of another ethnicity joins our church, their deepest need isn’t to adopt American ways. They need the gospel, the same good news I’ll carry to Japan, because Christ, not culture, unites us. Wolfe’s argument – that sharing the “highest good” of imputed righteousness doesn’t suffice for civil life, requiring “numerous other commonalities” – creates a false dichotomy. The New Testament doesn’t separate spiritual unity from civil life; it integrates them. In Colossians 1:19-20, Paul declares that Christ reconciles “all things,” whether in heaven or on earth, through His cross. This “all things” includes civil society. The gospel doesn’t just save souls – it transforms relationships, cultures, and communities under Christ’s lordship. Wolfe’s claim overlooks this holistic vision, suggesting the Spirit’s work is insufficient for earthly life. But the early church thrived across cultural divides, from Antioch to Corinth, proving that the gospel, not cultural sameness, is the foundation for unity.
Wolfe’s insistence on cultural homogeneity misunderstands the church’s historical success and risks idolizing culture. Churches around the world today thrive in multicultural settings, from Los Angeles to London, where diverse congregations navigate civil life together under Christ. These communities don’t rely on shared language or customs; they rely on the Spirit’s unifying power (1 Cor. 12:12-13). Even in America, our history – shaped by Irish, Italian, Mexican, and Asian immigrants – reflects a richer tapestry than Wolfe’s unified culture ideal. As I pack for Japan, I see this truth lived out: Japan’s people need Christ, not my culture, just as my neighbors here need the gospel, not American ways. The danger of Wolfe’s view is that it prioritizes “lesser goods” over the “highest good,” a risk Jesus warns against (Matt. 6:24). Biblical patriotism doesn’t demand cultural sameness – it demands gospel fidelity, trusting that Christ’s cross unites across every divide (Gal. 3:28). This is the patriotism I’m called to live, whether in America or Japan, whether with immigrants next door or unreached peoples abroad.
What does a biblical patriotism look like? It starts with humility. Leviticus 19:34 commands, “The stranger that dwelleth with you shall be unto you as one born among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself.” God doesn’t call us to preserve a nostalgic ideal or a single heritage – He calls us to love the stranger as family, no matter their background. This clashes with visions like Wolfe’s, which prioritize one cultural identity. Galatians 3:28 drives it home: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.” If Christ’s cross unites across every divide, our patriotism can’t build walls around one group.
It also means balance. Jesus said, “Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s; and unto God the things that are God’s” (Matt. 22:21). I can honor America – its laws, its freedoms, its people – while giving my ultimate allegiance to God. This balance lets me salute the flag without making it an altar. It lets me pray for America’s peace while pouring my life into Japan’s people. It frees me to celebrate America’s history – its triumphs and its flaws – while chasing a kingdom where “a great multitude… of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues” worships together (Rev. 7:9).
This patriotism isn’t passive – it’s active. It prays for leaders, as 1 Timothy 2:1-2 urges: “I exhort therefore, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be made for all men; for kings, and for all that are in authority.” It works for justice, as Romans 13:4 describes governing authorities as God’s servants to punish evil and reward good. It welcomes the stranger, as Hebrews 13:2 reminds us: “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” For me, it means teaching my kids to love America’s story while preparing them to serve Japan’s people, knowing their true home is with Christ.
As I pack for Japan, I’m not abandoning America – I’m carrying its best parts with me: a love for community, a heart for freedom, a faith that dares to cross borders. But I’m letting go of any patriotism that demands I prioritize one nation, one culture, over God’s global mission. Biblical patriotism doesn’t choose between loving your country and loving the world – it holds both in tension, grounded in a citizenship that transcends both. My hope is that you’ll join me in this.
Pray for your nation, work for its good, but never let it eclipse the gospel’s call to all nations. That’s the patriotism that points to heaven.