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Pursue justice rather than power
Author David French urges Christian voters to ‘act justly, love kindness and walk humbly.’
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The messy overlap of Christianity and U.S. politics is where you’ll often find David French.
Before becoming a New York Times columnist tackling political issues through a religious lens, French worked for The Dispatch, The Atlantic and National Review. He is the author of “Divided We Fall: America’s Secession Threat and How to Restore Our Nation.”
David French
The Harvard Law School grad joined the U.S. Army Reserve in 2006 as a judge advocate general. He deployed to Iraq in 2007 and earned a Bronze Star. He’s a former president of the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE), which often is at the forefront of religious liberty litigation.
He recently became a distinguished visiting professor of public policy at his alma mater, Lipscomb University in Nashville, Tenn. He and his wife, Nancy (a fellow Lipscomb alum) live in the Nashville area and have three children.
On The Christian Chronicle podcast, French spoke about his ties to Churches of Christ — as well as where he sees our nation headed. Excerpts from the interview follow.
Erik: A lot folks who refer me to your columns don’t know that you’re a Lipscomb alum with roots in Churches of Christ. Tell us a bit about that.
David: I grew up in Brentwood Hills Church of Christ in Nashville when my dad taught at Lipscomb. And then when my dad moved and taught at Georgetown College in Georgetown, Ky., which is a small Baptist college, we attended Southside Church of Christ in Lexington, Ky.
I was actually representing Lipscomb as a young lawyer. There was a big lawsuit brought in the mid-1990s by an organization challenging the issuance of millions of dollars in municipal bonds to Lipscomb that were used to build some facilities on campus. They challenged it on First Amendment establishment clause grounds.
I’ll never forget: I walked out of a meeting of the board of Lipscomb and ran into Nancy on the sidewalk, saw her, asked her out, and about three and a half months later we were married.
I loved my time at Lipscomb, and it was just absolutely formative for me. It prepared me very well for law school.
I went to law school extremely intimidated. Who am I, this kid from rural Kentucky and a small Christian college, going to Harvard? But then, when I got there, I found out that I really had been prepared very well.
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Erik: When you enlisted after 9/11, it really felt like your trajectory was following that of Ralph Reed, the Christian Coalition guy. But something changed when you served in Iraq. Can you share that with us?
David: Anybody who knew me, going back to high school, would say, “Man, David is a conservative, Christian Republican.”
I was a Reagan Republican. I was active. We started a little chapter of College Republicans at Lipscomb, and we didn’t actually end up having much to do because Lipscomb was pretty Republican.
I went to law school very outspoken in my GOP identification in the face of some pretty hostile headwinds. Harvard was a pretty intolerant place. Even Lipscomb — which in the late 80s, early 90s was much more conservative, Church of Christ than it is today — was much more open to free speech and debate than Harvard Law School was. You would be shouted down in class. You’d be subjected to unbelievable amounts of abuse and harassment if you disagreed with the progressive party line. (Nonetheless), I look back with shame and regret at how hostile I was to the left on occasion.
And then I go to Iraq, and I land during the height of the surge — the effort of the U.S. military to finally suppress the al-Qaida insurgency in Iraq, try to bring order to chaos. I was with a 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment in the middle of the Sunni-Shia civil war. It was a vicious fight for month after month after month. And what I saw in Iraq was what happens when a culture of grievance takes root.
When you look at the conflict, you might think it’s over theology or public policy. But if you asked a Sunni why they were fighting, they would say something like, “The Shia killed my uncle.” And someone from a Shia militia group might say, “Well, the Sunnis killed my nephew.” The infighting was vicious. I came home really sobered by that experience. Nancy will tell you I’m a different person than I was before I went to Iraq.
I came back to a country that was being trapped by grievance … thankfully, not to the same extent as Sunni and Shia. But if you talked to a committed, partisan Republican, they could tell you their list of grievances. And then if you talked to a Democrat, they’d say, “This is what Republicans did to us.”
By the time 2016 rolled around, the dominant facet of American politics wasn’t ideological differences. It was ideological animosity. It was the hatred that each side had for the other. Strangely enough, that hatred actually made ideology less important, because the most important thing was just opposing the other side.
By the time 2016 rolled around, the dominant facet of American politics wasn’t ideological differences. It was ideological animosity. It was the hatred that each side had for the other. Strangely enough, that hatred actually made ideology less important, because the most important thing was just opposing the other side.
I began to see the seeds of deep political disunion being sown. I was pessimistic enough to write a book that was published in 2020, saying this country could split apart. But even as pessimistic as I was, I didn’t see something like Jan. 6 happening. I couldn’t imagine that a mob would actually attack and briefly occupy the Capitol. Over what? Grievance.
B.T.: In my conversations, I hear a lot of cynicism. ‘Our enemies are fighting dirty. Being nice hasn’t gotten us anywhere. We’ve got to do whatever it takes to protect our way of life.’ How do you break that cynical loop?
David: Let’s go back to the upside-down kingdom of God.
I’ve heard this a million times, honestly, from people on the right and the left: “David, we live in an emergency. The other side is horrible. They’re going to take away my rights.”
If you go back to the first century, I can guarantee you — whether you’re a Republican looking at Democrats or a Democrat looking at Republicans — neither party can hold a candle to the Roman Empire when it comes to oppression.
When Jesus came, he came to a land that was absolutely groaning under the weight of oppression. They were looking for political salvation. So here comes Jesus, and what does he do? He says, “Love your enemies.” He doesn’t even overthrow the powers of that time, which he could do with a snap of his fingers. He looks at the very people who are oppressing him and killing him and says, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
That does not mean we should allow injustice. But what it does show is that there is a different kind of call on the people of God. What is it that marks us as believers? The fruits of the Spirit — kindness, peace, patience, gentleness, joy, self-control.
“What does the Lord require of you, O man? It is to act justly, to love kindness and to walk humbly with the Lord your God.”
What does Micah 6:8 say? “What does the Lord require of you, O man? It is to act justly, to love kindness and to walk humbly with the Lord your God.” It does not say “unless kindness and humility don’t work.” It doesn’t say, “Love your enemies until loving your enemies doesn’t work.” It doesn’t say, “Exhibit the fruit of the Spirit unless the fruit of the Spirit doesn’t work in politics.”
Think about Paul’s message to Timothy. God did not give us a spirit of fear but of power — not political power because the first century church had none — but faith in the power of a living God.
If all of these commands flowed into a first century church — that faced adversity we cannot imagine — can we say that all of those virtues commanded of the first century church don’t apply to us? Because, somehow, Joe Biden or Kamala Harris or Hillary Clinton are more of a threat than Nero?
That’s just wrong. It’s just wrong.
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B.T.: How do we act like first century Christians, who had very little political power, as American Christians who have probably more political power than any group of Christians at any time in history?
David: Micah 6:8 says, “Act justly.” Your goal is justice. That’s a different goal than power. You can pursue justice even when you don’t have power. So we should be pursuing justice. It also says, “Love kindness and walk humbly.”
I think that’s a great model — three interlocking, non-optional obligations: justice, kindness, humility. So I cannot forsake justice because I want to be the nicest person in the room.
One of the great gifts of my Church of Christ upbringing is this: We’ve never been a big denomination. So at no point, if you’re sitting there in a youth group — as I was in Kentucky in the early 1980s — are you being taught that we’re supposed to run things. The Gospel and the Holy Spirit of the living God are so potent on their own that they don’t need a federal bureaucrat helping them along.
I think the extent that we teach Christian young people that they are entitled to rule is doing them a real disservice, because what we implant in their minds is not the pursuit of justice, which even powerless people can seek, but the pursuit of power.
Erik: Some people get so distraught that they choose not to vote. It’s interesting that you and I both graduated from a university named for David Lipscomb, who kind of took that position and advocated for non-involvement in politics. How do you respond?
David: The command is to act justly, right? I don’t think that is the equivalent of a command to vote in every election. It could well be the case that you, in good conscience, cannot support any of the candidates. I can respect the decision to stay out of a particular race when you can support neither candidate.
The command is to act justly, right? I don’t think that is the equivalent of a command to vote in every election. It could well be the case that you, in good conscience, cannot support any of the candidates.
There is a difference between saying, “I’m not going to vote for either candidate,” and “I’m opting out of the quest for justice.” See, that’s what we can’t opt out of.
If all you’re doing is voting, truth be told, you’re mostly checking out. Your vote, while not irrelevant, is not of major consequence. But you know what is often of major consequence? Your involvement and time and energy and effort in your community. That is of real consequence.
