Photograph by Jametlene Reskp via Unsplash

In recent years, the decline of Christianity in America has slowed. The Pew Research Center’s 2023-24 Religious Landscape Study shows that the Christian share of the population has stabilized at around 62%. This marks a notable shift from the steady decline over the past few decades, when Christianity fell from 78% of the population in 2007 to 71% in 2014. Simultaneously, the religiously unaffiliated group, which grew rapidly in previous years, has leveled off at 29% of U.S. adults.

This shift in the trajectory of Christianity in America raises a critical question: Whose Christianity? The data reveals a divided landscape within Christianity itself. Evangelical Protestantism, for example, has experienced a slight decline in recent years, while nondenominational Protestantism continues to grow. Meanwhile, the historically Black Protestant tradition, once a pillar of American Christianity, has seen a decrease in its share of the population. This prompts a broader reflection on which version of Christianity is gaining ground.

Is it the faith aligned with power and political influence or the faith that seeks to unite the Jew with Gentile, the haves with have-nots, and the creator with creation?

Author and theologian Dr. Obery Hendricks in “Christians Against Christianity: How Right-Wing Evangelicals Are Destroying Our Nation and Our Faith” describes this faith as “modern right-wing evangelicalism, a phenomenon that emerged in the early twentieth century as an essentially political movement anchored in evangelical belief, albeit loosely at times.”[1]

In this moment of transition, we find ourselves grappling with a question that echoes Tertullian’s famous critique: What has Athens to do with Jerusalem?[2]

In his day, Tertullian was critical of the blending of Greek philosophy and Christian faith, arguing that Christianity’s sacred message should remain untainted by secular power structures and human wisdom. His question challenged the church’s entanglement with the world’s powers, warning that when Christianity becomes too closely aligned with political forces, it risks losing its radical, transformative power.

Today, we find ourselves asking a similar question: What does America have to do with Golgotha?

Hendricks describes the rise of modern right-wing evangelicalism as a prime example of Christianity’s entanglement with political agendas. What was once a movement centered on Jesus’ radical message of justice, reconciliation, and love has increasingly become a tool for political influence. This version of Christianity, aligned with nationalistic and imperialistic values, contrasts with the Gospel’s call for unity and transformation across divides.

As we examine the entanglement of Christianity with political power, we must confront the consequences of this alliance. By glorifying imperialism, we risk forsaking the very body of Christ, which is the ekklesia. The early Christian church was a radical movement that rejected worldly power structures, instead embracing a faith that challenged the status quo.

Yet today, many have exchanged this call for unity and justice for a gospel that serves the powers of empire. The rise of right-wing evangelicalism, rooted in political influence, reflects this shift. It is a Christianity that seeks to build empires rather than dismantle them, to condemn those who challenge the status quo rather than lifting the marginalized.

As Hendricks notes, this betrayal of the body of Christ is not merely about a loss of faith but a perversion of what it means to be the Church. In glorifying imperialism, we forsake the body – the people of God, who are the church called to live out justice, mercy, and love. 

This shift from the radical gospel of Jesus to a faith that serves empire forces us to reckon with the question: Whose Christianity is this?

The Christianity we encounter in America today is not the Christianity of Jesus, but the Christianity of Constantine. The legacy of Constantine, who first merged Christianity with imperial power in the fourth century, set the stage for a faith that was no longer focused on the radical teachings of Jesus but rather aligned with the political and military power of the Roman Empire. This Constantinian Christianity, which glorified empire and state power, is alive and well in America today.

In recent years, America has increasingly claimed itself to be a Christian nation, not based on the teachings of Jesus, but as a political construct rooted in nationalistic and imperialistic values. The rise of right-wing evangelicalism, exemplified by figures like Donald Trump, reflects this alignment of Christianity with political power. Trump’s brand of Christianity, with its focus on nationalism, prosperity, and dominance, echoes the imperial Christianity of Constantine – a Christianity that uses the name of Christ to legitimize empire and maintain control, rather than to foster the radical, inclusive love that Jesus taught.

This is not Christianity as the body of Christ, the ekklesia, called to serve the marginalized and work toward justice. Instead, it is a Christianity that serves the powerful and seeks to preserve the structures of domination. It is a Christianity that forsakes the body of Christ by glorifying empire and the accumulation of power, all while ignoring the cries of the oppressed. In this sense, the Christianity we see in America today, under the influence of leaders like Trump, is not the faith that Jesus preached – it is Constantine’s Christianity reimagined for the modern world.

So, the question we must confront is not just “whose Christianity?” But, more urgently, what has America got to do with Golgotha? The answer is everything, because the Christianity that claims America as a Christian nation is one that has forsaken the true body of Christ – the people called to live out a radical message of love, mercy, and justice. It is a Christianity that has been hijacked to serve the purposes of empire, rather than to dismantle it.