The Bronzed Nerve

Chapter Five is “Taking America Back for God,” and Boyd begins by describing a worship service that he attended around the time of the First Gulf War, one that sounds every bit as appalling as Boyd describes.

“The video closed with a scene of a silhouette of three crosses on a hill with an American flag waving in the background. Majestic, patriotic music now thundered. Suddenly, four fighter jets appeared on the horizon, flew over the crosses, and then split apart. As they roared over the camera, the words ‘God Bless America’ appeared on the screen in front of the crosses. The congregation responded with roaring applause, catcalls, and a standing ovation” (p. 88).

I mention this merely so that Boyd and I can enjoy a brief moment of agreement together. Yikes, crikey, and land of goshen.

But alas, this moment, like all moments under the sun, must end all too soon.

“Did Jesus ever suggest by word or by example that we should aspire to acquire, let alone take over, the power of Caesar?” (p. 92).

Well, yeah, He does.

“Does any author in the New Testament remotely hint that engaging in this sort of activity has anything to do with the kingdom of God” (p. 92).

Well, yes, they certainly do.

“Did Jesus ever suggest . . .”

“And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen” (Matt. 28:18-20).

“Does any author in the New Testament remotely hint . . .”

“For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war after the flesh: (For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds;)Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ” (2 Cor. 10:3-5).

“Did Jesus ever suggest . . .”

“That ye may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom, and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel” (Luke 22:30).

“Does any author in the New Testament remotely hint . . .”

“But now is made manifest, and by the scriptures of the prophets, according to the commandment of the everlasting God, made known to all nations for the obedience of faith” (Rom. 16:26).

“And hast made us unto our God kings and priests: and we shall reign on the earth” (Rev. 5:10).

There are lots of others, but why belabor the point? I am sure that Boyd has read these, but I am equally certain that he has not ever seen them.

Boyd makes his position clear.

“The foundational issue is whether any ‘power over’ kingdom could ever be Christian” (p. 102).

And if you have a problem with it, then you are the one with the problem.

“If your response is that this ‘power under approach is impractical, if not morally irresponsible, perhaps this too reveals that you have been conformed to the pattern of the world (Rom. 12:2) and have allowed yourself to trust ‘power over’ rather than ‘power under'” (pp. 104-105).

No, my charge is more pointed than that. Far from being humble and loving, this stance is preeminently unloving. Boyd spends a good bit of time in this chapter cataloging various atrocities in American history. Some of them he does up a little brown, but there is more than enough genuine material for outrage there. Despite our Christian history and despite our Christian heritage, we have been capable of some terrible things. But the way Boyd goes about assembling his proofs, he would have an easier time proving that Ahab was not a Jew than that the Founders were not Christians. He understands rarified ideologies — he doesn’t understand covenants, obligations, nations, or Christendom. He is an advocate of “Christianity” par excellance.

But for the sake of argument, let me grant all the atrocities that were perpetrated by this “Christian nation” of ours. Line them all up: in accordance with the argument of this book, what would Boyd have had us do if we had been there watching the floggings, the massacres, the kidnappings, the slaving, the rapes, the thefts, the treaty-breaking? What would Boyd’s version of love have had us do? The answer — his way of fine-talking humility and surpassing love — is nothing.

“Jesus — who, incidentally, never allowed himself to get pulled into the political disputes of his day” (p. 11).

Are women getting raped? Don’t get pulled in. Are children being hauled off to work in factories? Don’t get pulled in. Are treaties being flagrantly broken? That’s just the way the world is, ya know? Are thousands of slaves being pitched overboard into the Atlantic? Satan’s kingdom . . . what can you do? Spiritually dangerous even to try.

Whenever the question of violence arises, Boyd will only describe ungodly violence poured out over the heads of innocent victims. And he is guilty of two terrible things here. First, he never describes a warrior, a Christian knight, stepping in between a victim and a malicious attacker. It is as though Boyd doesn’t believe this can ever happen. But I can assure you that he lives in a very comfortable world precisely because it does happen.

I can condemn wicked violence, and I do. I can condemn, heartily, every atrocity that Boyd wants to dig up. “Slaughtering, enslaving, cheating, conquering, and dominating are not the sort of activities Jesus engaged in!” Right. Fine. Amen. Give me something hard to affirm. But Boyd is incapable of praising godly violence, and this is because he is living in the dream castle of Christianity, which is so far up in the clouds that it does not even need a security system. But for the rest of us, “Blessed be the LORD my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight” (Ps. 144:1

But far worse than the first problem, Boyd describes these horrendous situations in such a way as never makes me wish that the Cherokee had had a couple thousand pacifists standing on the sidelines wringing their hands. And after carrying on this way, he has the bronzed nerve to describe this principled refusal to take up the cause of the widow and orphan as holiness, as keeping the kingdom pure. Proceeding serenely from the undisputed dictum that we ought not use our armies to rape and murder widows and orphans, he acts like he has thereby proven that we must not use our armies to defend them.