Separating Church and Empire

Introduction

I have been encouraged today by your comments on my post earlier about Church and Empire, so I have decided to expand it into a book. I spent today writing the introduction. I’ve also decided that my subscribers will get first view of each chapter as it is written. I’ve posted the Introduction below.

Introduction: Why This Matters Now

“We have no king but Caesar.” —John 19:15

I didn’t write this book to attack the Church.
I wrote it because I love the Church.
And love, real love, tells the truth—even when it hurts.

We are living in a time when the name of Jesus is being used not to heal, but to harm.
To justify cruelty.
To excuse corruption.
To bless injustice.
To merge the cross with the flag, and the Kingdom of God with the machinery of empire.

And it’s breaking my heart.

Because that’s not the Jesus I follow.
That’s not the Gospel I gave my life to.
And that’s not the Church I believe is still possible.

The Church I Still Believe In

I still believe in the Church. Not the one obsessed with cultural dominance, but the one that feeds the hungry, shelters the stranger, forgives freely, and walks with the wounded.

I still believe in a Church that doesn’t beg for political power, because it already has the power of the Spirit.
A Church that doesn't need a throne, because it knows how to wash feet.
A Church that doesn't build walls to keep people out, but long tables where everyone has a seat—even the doubter, even the sinner, even the stranger.

When Jesus Is Used to Justify Power

In recent years, we’ve seen political leaders stand in front of churches, waving Bibles they do not read, invoking a Jesus they do not follow, to win the support of people they do not love.

We’ve seen policies passed in His name that close borders, cut aid, punish the poor, deny healthcare, and target the marginalized. And yet some Christians cheer—not because they’ve lost faith, but because they’ve confused faith with nationalism.

But here’s what must be said, clearly and without apology:

The Gospel of Jesus is not a tool of the state.
It is not a blueprint for domination.
It is not permission to look away while the vulnerable suffer.

It is an invitation:
to repentance,
to grace,
to healing,
to justice,
to peace.

Why “Separating Church and Empire” Isn’t Betrayal—It’s Faithfulness

Some will say I’m being divisive.
Some will say I’m being political.
Some will ask why I’m airing the Church’s dirty laundry.

But I’m not writing this to divide the Church. I’m writing it because we are already divided—by power, by fear, by allegiance to empires Jesus never blessed.

I’m writing because I still believe we can return. I believe we can separate what should never have been joined—the Kingdom of God and the machinery of empire.

This is not about hating the Church.
This is about saving the Church from losing its soul.

A Church Worth Fighting For

The Church I believe in doesn’t defend emperors—it defends the poor.
It doesn’t crown politicians—it crowns the crucified Christ.
It doesn’t mirror the empire—it subverts it with love.

This book is an invitation to remember who we are.
To tell the truth about how we got here.
And to reclaim the radical, revolutionary, redemptive way of Jesus.

Not a God of war, but the Prince of Peace.
Not a God of empire, but a Servant King.
Not a God of fear, but perfect love, casting it out.

To Those Who’ve Walked Away

If you’re reading this and you’ve left the Church because it felt more like Rome than like Jesus—I see you.

You were never too much.
You were not wrong to expect love.
And Jesus hasn’t left you behind.

This book is not a call to return to what hurt you. It’s a call to help build something new—or maybe something old enough to be true again.

So let us begin.

Let’s grieve.
Let’s repent.
Let’s unlearn.
Let’s listen.
Let’s separate Church from empire—not to weaken the Gospel, but to set it free.

The world needs the real Jesus again.

And so does the Church.

---

Chapter 1: Jesus vs. Empire

The Kingdom that Confronts, Not Conforms

“My kingdom is not of this world.”
—Jesus (John 18:36)

Jesus Was Born Into Occupation

To understand how the Church became entangled with empire, we must begin with this simple, often overlooked truth: Jesus was born under Roman occupation.

He entered the world under Caesar Augustus—a ruler so powerful he was called “Son of God,” “Savior,” and “Lord of the world.” His reign was marked by wealth, military dominance, and the forced submission of conquered peoples. Peace under Caesar came not by justice, but by the sword—a “Pax Romana” built on the backs of the poor and enforced by violence.

When the angels announced peace on earth at Jesus’ birth (Luke 2:14), they weren’t offering sentimental comfort. They were proclaiming a rival kingdom.

“Unto you is born this day… a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:11)
That was treasonous language under Roman rule.

The Gospel begins with a political disruption:
Jesus is Lord—not Caesar.

The Temptation of Empire’s Shortcut

In the wilderness, Jesus is offered a shortcut. Satan tempts Him with the kingdoms of the world—the same promise empire offers the Church today:

“All this I will give you,” Satan says, “if you bow down and worship me.” (Matthew 4:9)

In other words: “You don’t have to suffer. You don’t have to take the long road of love, mercy, and sacrifice. Just grab power.”

But Jesus refuses. Because the means matter. You cannot bring the Kingdom of God with the tools of empire. This is why Jesus says to Peter—when Peter draws a sword to defend Him—“Put your sword back in its place, for all who draw the sword will die by the sword.” (Matthew 26:52)

The Kingdom cannot come through coercion.
It must come through the cross.

What Empire Fears Most

Jesus never led an army.
He never held public office.
He never called for rebellion by force.

And yet, the Roman Empire crucified Him.
Why?

Because He unmasked the lies of empire:

• That power equals worth

• That violence brings peace

• That the rich are blessed and the poor are forgotten

• That domination is divine

He healed the sick for free.
He forgave sinners before they proved themselves.
He touched lepers, honored women, praised foreigners, and invited children to the center.

And He said to the rulers of His day—both religious and political—“You’ve built something that does not look like My Father’s Kingdom.”

That’s why Pilate washed his hands.
That’s why the crowds were stirred to shout “Crucify Him.”
That’s why the religious elite, who had allied themselves with Rome, said, “We have no king but Caesar.” (John 19:15)

Because Jesus wasn’t just preaching about heaven.
He was calling for a transformation of earth—right now.

The Cross as Protest, Not Permission

Too often we forget: the cross was not a private spiritual symbol. It was Rome’s most public display of terror. Crucifixion was a punishment for insurrection. It was a warning to the people: “This is what happens if you resist the way things are.”

Jesus died in solidarity with the oppressed, as one of them. He was stripped, mocked, and hung between two political prisoners—an execution that said, “This man is no threat anymore.”

But three days later, Rome’s verdict was overturned.

The resurrection is not just about life after death.
It is God’s declaration that empire does not get the final word.

“He disarmed the powers and authorities and made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross.” (Colossians 2:15)

The resurrection is the undoing of empire’s greatest weapon: fear.
And that is why empires continue to fear the real Jesus.

The Church’s First Mistake

In the early centuries, the Church was marginalized, persecuted, and poor—yet it was powerful in love, not politics. Christians cared for the sick when plague swept cities. They rescued abandoned infants. They shared resources. They refused to worship Caesar, even under threat of death.

But in the 4th century, all that changed. Emperor Constantine legalized Christianity with the Edict of Milan (313 CE) and then began to institutionalize it. Christianity became favored, then entangled, and eventually became the official religion of the Roman Empire under Emperor Theodosius.

What had been a subversive, nonviolent movement became the religion of the empire—blessing its conquests, echoing its hierarchies, and baptizing its wars.

Theologian Stanley Hauerwas writes:

“Constantinianism turns Christianity into a civil religion that serves the state. It domesticates the Gospel.”
—Resident Aliens, 1989

The Church no longer resisted the empire.
It became part of it.

Why This Matters Now

If we fail to separate Church from empire, we will continue to preach a Christ without the cross, and a gospel that blesses domination instead of deliverance. And we will keep losing people—not because they don’t love Jesus, but because they no longer recognize Him beneath all the flags and titles and golden altars.

But here’s the hope: Jesus was never conquered. His Kingdom was never co-opted.

Even in the darkest chapters of Christian history, there have always been truth-tellers, table-setters, and foot-washers.

People like Francis of Assisi.
Harriet Tubman.
Oscar Romero.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Dorothy Day.
People like you.

And the Spirit is still calling us today—to separate Church and empire, not because we’re giving up on the Church, but because we’re ready to return to Jesus.

Reflection Questions:

1. Where do I see Jesus’ Gospel in conflict with the values of political power today?

2. What temptations of empire still live within the Church—and within me?

3. What would it look like to follow Jesus in a way that threatens no one… but comforts everyone? And is that really the Gospel?