A Review of Stephen Wolfe’s Case for Christian Nationalism
Introduction
I need to begin this review with a couple of disclaimers. Before reading this book, Christian Nationalism
had already left a bad taste in my mouth. The reason I finally read this book was because I criticized the
movement from my pulpit and thought it might be wiser and more reasonable to familiarize myself
more with CN. Thus, from even before I read the book, I’ve been suspicious.
However, I do think I tried to give the book the most honest reading I could. I walked into the book
knowing that I was suspicious and that I needed to be careful not to over-criticize. Sometimes I even
caught myself questioning and disagreeing with minor, passing points and I had to recognize that I was
being overly combative and critical. This review only contains my biggest contentions with the book—
there were many more. Therefore, while I admit bias, I think I gave it an honest try.
I will also confess that before reading the book, I knew a bit about it from a distance. I read DeYoung’s
review quite some time ago and then I listened to Wolfe’s response. But I don’t remember much from
either. I hope that this review doesn’t plagiarize anyone.
Agreements
Before I get into my problems with the book, I want to acknowledge that I sympathize with many of
Wolfe’s frustrations–along with those of many Christian Nationalists. I do lament the loss of cultural
Christianity. Part of me does wish we lived in a society where everyone went to church and knew the 10
commandments and took them seriously.
I agree that we can’t love everyone the same, that we need to prefer our own to a degree. I’m a father,
and in recent years I’ve had foster children. A great challenge in my life has been balancing my love for
my own marriage and household, while having love and energy to extend to foster children. I
understand that we cannot and must not love everyone the same. And I believe this principle needs to
apply to how we view things like immigration.
I agree that the powers that be have overplayed their cards and provoked the frustrations that have
produced Christian Nationalism. For decades the left (and the right) have been railing against Christians.
We’re all a bunch of racist, fascist, homophobic, antisemitic, misogynistic bigots. I’m with a lot of
Christian Nationalists in that I don’t care what you call me anymore. These verbal assaults mean nothing.
Interestingly, the revival of the right wing was predicted by the book Cynical Theories. They conclude
their survey of critical theories with the assessment that Social Justice “encourages tribalism and
hostility… and it is incredibly naive to expect it not to produce a counter-revival of old right-wing identity
politics” (p. 261). Jordan Peterson once said that the right wing is starting to say of identity politics:
“We’re going to play your game, and we’re going to win.”
I agree with Wolfe that there is no neutrality. That just because we don’t see overt persecution doesn’t
mean we’re not being aggressively shoved to the side and we’ve had the microphone taken away from
us.
In the big picture, I don’t think every jot and tittle of the book was bad. But I do honestly believe the
good is relegated to jots and tittles. Now on to the criticism
I Don’t Always Do Theology*
The first and main problem I have with this book, has to do with the way Wolfe handles the Bible. He
dismisses the Bible, he “makes little effort” to handle Scripture. But then he does turn and engage in
profound theological speculation. And all the while, he calls some interesting witnesses to the stand
Paper Covers Rock!
Wolfe opens the book with a disclaimer about his use of Scripture:
I make little effort to exegete biblical text. Some readers will complain that I rarely appeal to
Scripture to argue for my positions. I understand the frustration, but allow me to explain: I am
neither a theologian nor a biblical scholar. I have no training in moving from scriptural
interpretation to theological articulation.
Wolfe, The Case for Christian Nationalism, 16.
To be fair, Scripture is not entirely absent from the book. I kept track and Wolfe cites the Bible over
twenty times. But most of those are only passing references. There appear to me to be only two
instances where Wolfe substantially engages the text of Scripture (e.g. Romans 13 on p. 350).
Shortly after, in a footnote on p. 17, he anticipates being rebutted by Scripture and so he preemptively
defends himself by saying
Keep in mind that your theological propositions must fit into a coherent system of doctrine. In
affirming any proposition, one affirms also what is logically antecedent and consequent to it:
propositions come from and lead logically to other statements. Too often, Christians use
Scripture to support theological statements and ethical claims without considering their logical
implications in a systematical way (e.g., whether it leads to absurdity or heresy, or contradicts
other beliefs).
Now, to a point I understand where he’s coming from, and he’s right. People do pluck verses out of
context to say stupid things. On the other hand, no, people don’t have to have all of their verses filed
away into a consistent system. You can’t relegate theological debate to only those with refined and
carefully constructed systems. That takes the Bible out of the hands of the church and puts it into the
hands of the academy.
There is also such a thing as cognitive dissonance. Everyone has cognitive dissonance, even doctors of
philosophy and theology. And while we ought to try to find them and get rid of them, I’m convinced that
everyone will have cognitive dissonances until we’re in glory. And if we tried to follow Wolfe’s admonition that we must have a coherent system or else our citations are void, then most, if not all theological debate and discussion, would be dissolved.
Further, this approach appears to me to be dismissive, and even undermine the authority of Scripture.
It’s like he’s saying, “My system without verses trumps your verses without a system–paper covers
rock!” So, you can cite Scripture against him, but because you probably haven’t filed it away in an
airtight system, it’s probably taken out of context, we probably don’t need to worry. In such an
argument, the Bible doesn’t get the final word; our systematizing of the Bible gets the final word. That’s
not Sola Scriptura; that’s Sola Systematica. It’s not far from the Pharisees voiding Scripture to uphold
their traditions (Mark 7:9)
As for me, I will unapologetically respond with Scripture. “Have you never read?”
*But when I do, I dive into the deep end of speculation
Another problem I have with his “little effort” to exegete the Bible is that he does in fact delve into deep
theological territory. He writes that in chapter 3 his “intent is to identify the theological basis for
continuity and discontinuity in social relations between [man’s] three states” (p. 81; namely, pre-fall,
fall and grace). And at the end of chapter 3 he concludes that he has “established the background
anthropology and theology for the rest of the book” (p. 115).
I will deal more below with the specific theology, but put this in perspective for now: He opened the
book saying, “I’m not a theologian.” And then he spent three chapters expressly laying a theological
foundation (a profoundly speculative one at that, see below). Imagine doing that with another field: “I’m
not a trained electrician. I have no training in reading schematics. But I wired your house for you.”
Wolfe wants to have his cake and eat it too. He thinks he can dive into the deep end of the pool, not
knowing how to swim, but his “little effort” lifejacket will save him from drowning in criticism. “Hey, I
told you this isn’t my field.” You can’t have it both ways.
The Secular and the Secondary
This “little effort to exegete biblical text” gets worse when you consider the sources Wolfe does cite. He
recites countless theologians: Augustine, Aquinas, Calvin, Bavinck, and many others. And I don’t
necessarily have a problem with someone drawing from a wide variety of theological sources. However,
the problem I do have is that he relies almost exclusively on secondary sources. It’s ironic how many
sermons and commentaries he appeals to. And what were they preaching and commenting on?
Scripture. But he doesn’t deal with Scripture.
Like the previous point, imagine doing this in another field. Imagine you’re a lawyer going to court. And
you have no case law to prove your point. Instead, you rely on commentaries on the law, review articles,
and opinion pieces. Then the judge says, “Why haven’t you cited any actual law in your case?” You
respond, “Well judge I’m not a trained attorney.” You might win the case, unless the other side has
actual case law to refute you. Then you’re probably toast. (I worked with an attorney to construct this illustration because, ironically, I’m not a trained attorney.)
Or imagine writing a paper on Aristotle’s philosophy, but you don’t interact with Aristotle, you only read
people who have condensed and explained Aristotle. It doesn’t necessarily mean you’re wrong. But why
not just simplify everything and cite Aristotle? Is it perhaps because you’re afraid Aristotle won’t agree
with your reconstruction of his philosophy through secondary sources? Shouldn’t your paper on
Aristotle be riddled with Aristotle?
More than secondary sources, Wolfe cites a number of secular sources including Homer, Aristotle,
Cicero, Rudyard Kipling, Victor Hugo, and even the apocrypha. Again, this in and of itself isn’t a big deal,
until you remember that the book is The Case for Christian Nationalism. So, in your case for constructing
a Christian nation, you make minimal effort to deal with the sacred Christian texts, but you’ll cite all
these other folks. In other words, to construct a theory of a Christian nation, you’ll call Homer, Cicero,
and Hugo to the stand–but not God.
Concluding This Point
Wolfe postures himself to dismiss Scripture. He admits he’s not a theologian and then delves into a deep
theological territory. He doesn’t use much Scripture but then appeals to all kinds of secondary sources.
This book keeps Scripture on the backburner in favor of other preferred sources and methods. And if
you want to bring Scripture to the table, there’s no room.
The Steeples of Sodom: Constructing Hypothetical Worlds
A second major issue I have with this book is Wolfe’s presumed understanding of the world without sin.
Wolfe knows an awful lot about how the world would have looked had we not fallen into sin. In fact, he
calls this an “essential” element of his foundation (p. 56).
Now, if you’re like me, it’s ironic that Wolfe goes here after admitting that he’s not a theologian. Why?
Because this is one of the most mysterious realms of theology: what was the world like before the fall?
Sin has so pervaded creation that the pre-fall world is literally a different world. It is simply beyond us to
imagine what life could have been like.
But not for Wolfe. Even though Wolfe admitted he’s not a theologian, he presumes to tread into
territory that he admits “no Christian writer (of which I’m aware) has sought to provide a systematic
treatment” (p. 41). In other words, “I’m not a theologian, and no theologian has done this before–hold
my beer.”
Though Wolfe admits that describing the world without sin “requires many counterfactuals and could
lead to vain speculation” (p. 55), these chapters are riddled with speculation. Starting with the fact that
the chapter is called Nations Before the Fall when, in fact, there were no nations before the fall. The
following is a list of speculations Wolfe asserts about the prelapsarian world and its development in an
alternate timeline:
- Adam’s posterity “would have formed [distinct] communities,” even “separate nations, because
even unfallen man would have had natural limitations and been bounded by geography,
arability, and other factors” (p. 21).
5 - People would have preferred similar people over dissimilar because “choosing similar people
over dissimilar people is not a result of fallenness, but is natural to man as man” (p. 24). - “Adam’s life on earth was but a foretaste of heaven” (p. 45).
- “A prelapsarian world is a world of diverse vocations, each vocation being distinct in its art and
end-product, and excellence in any vocation is made possible only by that diversity” (p. 60). - “Maturing in skill would have been a feature of life and also that people-groups would pass on
these skills to new generations–no doubt inflected with each group’s particular way or style of
exercising this skill” (p. 62). - “If many if not most cases, the community would be relatively independent from others, since
not all places on earth are suitable for human dwelling. There would be geographic separation
and uninhabited space between them. Thus, the culture and institutions that develop in these
new places would be distinct vis-a-vis other communities” (p. 64). - “Would language remain exactly the same? Likely not” (p. 64).
- Limitation would demand distinct communities because people “can only govern so much and
only so many people” (p. 65). - Quoting Aquinas, Wolfe speculates that “some would have made a greater advance in virtue
and knowledge than others” and that there would have been “differences in food sources and
climate” (p. 67). - “Civil governments would have existed” (p. 70).
- “A natural aristocracy would arise in each community to rule, establishing a rule by the best” (p.
72). - Wolfe knows “the relationship of Adam to civil leaders in a state of integrity” (p. 74).
- “Self-preservation would have been essential to the state of integrity” (p. 74).
- “Martial virtue and training in martial excellence would have been a feature of life in the state of
integrity” (p. 75). In other words, we still would have needed militaries, just in case a
neighboring nation fell into sin. - Economic choices based on scarcity would have existed (p. 90).
- “Even Adam in the state of integrity, as he grew in maturity, would have felt as if he were a
stranger in this world… we can imagine Adam and his progeny feeling out of place on the earth”
(p. 197).
Look, some of these speculations are more likely than others. But that doesn’t change the fact that
they’re speculations. We don’t know what the world would have looked like without sin, and it’s not our
place to speculate about it.
Another issue I have with this is the fact that some of these speculations are circularly based on the
fallen world. Uninhabitable climates, changing language, man’s limitation to govern, independence of
nations, self-preservation and the need for self-defense. These are so closely linked to the fall that it’s
unreasonable to use them to construct a hypothetically prelapsarian world.
My question is that if God never planned for this world, then why are you? If we’re going to start
constructing hypothetical worlds, we might as well start speculating about what denominations would
have cropped up in Sodom and Gomorrah after they repented (Matthew 11:23-24).
Put Your Trust in [Christian] Princes
Wolfe dedicates an entire chapter to The Christian Prince. As soon as I read the title of that chapter, the
verse that came to mind was Psalm 146:3, “put not your trust in princes, in a son of man, in whom there
is no salvation.” But I then thought, “Just wait, don’t give an answer before you hear” (see Proverbs
18:13). But when you read the chapter, Wolfe is clearly hoping in a hypothetical hero, and he’s
encouraging his readers to do the same.
In describing this prince, Wolfe calls him, “the first of his people–one whom the people can look upon as
father or protectorate of the country” (P. 279). He says that the people “place their trust in the prince as
an intermediary to actualize their good” (p. 280). It gets really fun when Wolfe cites Psalm 82:6 and calls
him “a god” (p. 287). Now, I understand that he has a point here about the lofty language used of Israel
and their leadership in the psalms. But doesn’t it get a little uncomfortable calling him a god three times
(twice on p. 287, once on p. 289)?
But it starts getting really interesting when Wolfe calls him “the closest image of God on the earth” (p.
287). I would disagree; the church is the closest image of God on the earth (1st John 4:12, cf. John 1:18).
Wolfe writes that “the divine presence is in the prince” (p. 287). He calls him “the mediator of divine rule
[who] brings God near to the people… a sort of national god… the mediator of divine rule for this nation”
(pp. 287-288). “He is the best of the people” and “the hero of the people” (p. 288). To the point that
“one looks more to the prince for his good than even church ministers” (p. 289).
Like I said above, I get that there’s a point about the use of the word “god” in Psalm 82. I get that there
are explanations and qualifications about what it means that he has divine presence in the sense of a
divine sanction from God (Romans 13). I also acknowledge Wolfe’s distinction in mediation he gives on
pp. 287, 289, and 301. But don’t you start getting nervous when people start heaping lofty, even divine
language, on a human (a non-existent one at that)? He’s the first, a father, a god, the closest image of
God on the earth, having the divine presence, a mediator, the best of the people, the hero of the
people?
“Put not your trust in princes.” Unless he fits Wolfe’s bill
Grape-Nut Nationalism
While reading this book, I felt a familiar feeling. I couldn’t put my finger on it for a while, but eventually I
realized that reading this book was like talking to a cultist. And I realize those are fighting words. But
then again, so is calling for a violent revolution (Chapter 8).
What do I mean that this feels culty? Well, for example, I began with his dismissive posture towards
Scripture. He opened with “you can cite Scripture to correct me. But are you sure you have that verse
filed away in its appropriate systematic drawer?” Or when Wolfe anticipates and dismisses charges of
idolatry “because the term is lazily deployed against those who love something ‘too much'” (p. 161). Yes-
-that is one valid definition of idolatry. See Colossians 3:5. It’s in the idolatry file.
Another culty feel is that Wolfe misses the boat on some pretty plain points in Scripture. One example
would be his ignoring of Psalm 146:3, “Put not your trust in princes.” Or when Wolfe says that
“Membership in the instituted church does not itself negate, undermine, or even alter what is fundamental to one’s natural and civil relations” (p. 112). How about when Jesus rejected His own familyand instead defined His family as those who do the will of His Father (Mark 3:31-35; see also Mark10:29-30). Or when Wolfe says that revolution is “against the person holding civil office, not against the
office itself” (p. 351, italics original). David understood no such distinction (1 Sam 24:6).
Another cultish hermeneutic is that while Wolfe dismisses and ignores plain and clear things from
Scripture, he then goes on to focus on the white space between Genesis 2 and 3 when he spends so
much time talking about what the nations would have looked like without the fall.
Now think about what I’m saying so far. Wolfe dismisses and ignores plain things in Scripture. Then he
turns around and blows minor hypothetical points way out of proportion. Do you know where we’ve
seen that before? In the Mormon Church. Mormons, for example, ignore fundamental doctrines like
monotheism and divinely-constructed systems like the Levitical priesthood. But then after swallowing
that camel, they turn to the gnat in 1 st Corinthians 15 about baptism for the dead and they construct an
entire system out of it. Never you mind what Scripture says clearly. Ignore that and fill in the gaps for
the stuff we wish we understood.
Another culty feel to this book has to deal with how Wolfe redefines Scripture to make room for his own
intrusions. Here I’m referring to Wolfe calling the Christian prince “the mediator of divine rule [who]
brings God near to the people… a sort of national god… the mediator of divine rule for this nation” (pp.
287-288). Of course, the verse that comes to your mind is that “there is only one mediator between God
and man, the man Jesus Christ” (1st Timothy 2:5). Wolfe suggests that there is more than one
mediator—as many as there are Christian nations.
As I mentioned before, Wolfe does anticipate this objection and he does clarify that “he does not, and
indeed cannot, mediate salvific grace” (p. 289). And he does differentiate between the mediation of the
prince and of Christ (p. 301). But in Wolfe’s system, you still have more than one mediator, which is a
clear contradiction of Scripture. You can redefine it and talk around it all you want, but the point
remains.
And back to the culty part, this is what the cults do. The Mormons say, “you can be married to your wife
forever in heaven.” And you object, “Scripture says there is no marriage in heaven!” And the Mormons
answer, “There’s no earthly marriage in heaven; we’re talking about celestial marriage.” The Roman
Catholics do this with purgatory. You tell a Roman Catholic, “Jesus died to pay for our sins, why would
we suffer in purgatory?” They say, “Well Jesus died to cleanse you of eternal penalties; you still have to
work off your temporal penalties.” Redefinition makes room for smuggling in destructive heresies.
I’m sure he doesn’t know it, but Wolfe is unwittingly borrowing from the playbook of the cults when he
redefines Scripture to make room for his own mediators and bloody revolutions.
Finally, it’s pretty culty for Wolfe to heap lofty and divine language on the Christian prince. Again: He’s
the first, a father, a god, the closest image of God on the earth, having the divine presence, a mediator,
the best of the people, the hero of the people. Had Wolfe maybe employed one of these descriptors, I
probably wouldn’t have been bothered. But all of them? That’s getting awfully close to idolatry. No,
that’s not me “lazily” saying that you love something too much. It’s me saying, friend, out of the
abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.
Take the LDS hymn Praise to the Man, for example. When the Mormons write a hymn about Joseph
Smith and sing things like:
Kings shall extol him and nations revere
Hail to the Prophet, ascended to heaven!
Traitors and tyrants now fight him in vain.
Mingling with Gods, he can plan for his brethren;
Death cannot conquer the hero again.
Honored and blest be his ever great name!
Great is his glory and endless his priesthood.
Ever and ever the keys he will hold.
Faithful and true, he will enter his kingdom,
Crowned in the midst of the prophets of old.
Doesn’t that just ever-so-subtly suggest that perhaps the Mormons have a slightly elevated view of
Joseph Smith? Isn’t it also telling when the Roman Catholics call Mary the Queen of Heaven and the Co-
Redemptrix? If the Mormons and Catholics make us nervous, then Wolfe should too.
I’m not saying Wolfe is a cultist. I’m not saying CN is a cult. But I hope you’ll understand why Wolfe’s
book and the conduct coming from many Christian Nationalists is enough to make the rest of us
nervous.
Conclusion
I find this book more than a little alarming. The way Wolfe handles Scripture (or fails to, rather), to the
way Wolfe hopes in hypothetical lands and heroes, I find this to be much more nationalist than
Christian. If we would have a Christian nationalism, there needs to be more Scripture in the foundation
than Calvin, Aristotle, and Rudyard Kipling.