Emerging theological emergency for churches, with global ramifications
The faithful cannot be silent in the face of distortion Graham Redding writes.
In moments of deep national and spiritual crisis, churches have sometimes found the courage to speak with clarity and conviction.
Not with platitudes or party dogma, but with public confessions — declarations that reclaim the Gospel from the grip of ideology and idolatry.
In 1934, in the shadow of Nazi Germany, a group of German pastors and theologians crafted the Barmen Declaration. It was a bold theological stand against the co-opting of the German Church by Adolf Hitler's regime. While many churches willingly aligned themselves with the state — some even blending the cross with the swastika — Barmen drew a line.
It rejected the false gospel of nationalism and racial superiority. It reasserted the lordship of Christ and the authority of Scripture against a corrupted and politicised church.
Fifty years later, in apartheid-era South Africa, the Belhar Confession emerged. Under a system of brutal racial segregation and violence — one that was theologically defended by the powerful Dutch Reformed Church — Belhar became both a protest and a promise.
It condemned injustice in the name of Christ and called the Church back to its foundation in unity, reconciliation and justice. It insisted that these are not optional ideals but core expressions of the Gospel.
What Barmen and Belhar shared was a willingness to speak truth into situations of injustice, where the name of Jesus was being used to bless what the Gospel condemns.
They did not pretend to be universally true for all times and places. They were contextual, prophetic responses to specific crises — resisting theological distortion and political manipulation.
Is it time for churches in the United States to unite to do something similar?
Many are sounding the alarm that a major crisis is unfolding in the United States today. Political platforms are draped in religious language. Christian politicians are among the most vocal defenders of exclusionary policies.
Christian vocabulary is used to justify everything from white nationalism to the erosion of human rights. In some quarters, the Church has not merely been silent in the face of these distortions — it has become complicit.
This is more than a political problem. It is a theological emergency with global ramifications.
When faith is harnessed to serve partisan power, when the name of Jesus is used to endorse ideological and political agendas, the Church must speak — not to defend its reputation, but to defend the Gospel itself.
What is needed is not a philosophical treatise but a courageous declaration that says: this is who we are, this is what we believe, this is what we reject.
A confession that names the idolatries of our time — Christian nationalism, systemic racism, xenophobia, political authoritarianism — and says clearly: this is not the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Such a confession would begin with repentance. It would acknowledge where churches have failed to be faithful: where they have preferred influence over integrity and confused discipleship with dominance. It would reaffirm Christ's lordship over every other loyalty, and declare that justice, mercy and humility are not liberal or conservative values — they are Gospel imperatives.
It would not speak for every Christian. It would not demand uniformity. Like Barmen and Belhar, it would arise from communities of conscience — those who can no longer be silent in the face of distortion.
It would face opposition and criticism. Barmen and Belhar both drew backlash. But both also offered the Church something priceless: integrity. A way to be faithful in the public square without surrendering the soul of the Gospel.
The danger today for churches is not one of persecution but seduction. The seductive pull of power and cultural dominance is nothing new. But the longer churches confuse proximity to power with spiritual authority, the more urgently they need to confess what the Gospel actually is — and what it is not.
A confession of faith would not fix everything, but it would be a clarion call, an act of clarity in a time of confusion, an act of courage in a time of compromise.
And it would be an invitation — to return to the source, to rediscover the deep well of God's justice, grace and love.
Because at the heart of the Christian faith is not a political ideology or a cultural identity. It is a crucified and risen saviour who calls his followers not to rule, but to serve. Not to dominate, but to love. Not to blend in, but to bear witness.
Maybe it's time to say that again. Loudly and clearly.
If American churches were to come together for that purpose, there would be strong global support — for a Gospel no longer bound by empire, but set free again for justice, mercy and truth, and for a nation that is less preoccupied with its own greatness and more dedicated to the flourishing of all nations, the healing of creation and the ways of peace.
■Graham Redding is a lecturer in chaplaincy studies at the University of Otago.
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Emerging theological emergency for churches, with global ramifications
The faithful cannot be silent in the face of distortion Graham Redding writes. In moments of deep national and spiritual crisis, churches have sometimes found the courage to speak with clarity and conviction. Not with platitudes or party dogma, but with public confessions — declarations that reclaim the Gospel from the grip of ideology and idolatry. In 1934, in the shadow of Nazi Germany, a group of German pastors and theologians crafted the Barmen Declaration. It was a bold theological stand against the co-opting of the German Church by Adolf Hitler's regime. While many churches willingly aligned themselves with the state — some even blending the cross with the swastika — Barmen drew a line. It rejected the false gospel of nationalism and racial superiority. It reasserted the lordship of Christ and the authority of Scripture against a corrupted and politicised church. Fifty years later, in apartheid-era South Africa, the Belhar Confession emerged. Under a system of brutal racial segregation and violence — one that was theologically defended by the powerful Dutch Reformed Church — Belhar became both a protest and a promise. It condemned injustice in the name of Christ and called the Church back to its foundation in unity, reconciliation and justice. It insisted that these are not optional ideals but core expressions of the Gospel. What Barmen and Belhar shared was a willingness to speak truth into situations of injustice, where the name of Jesus was being used to bless what the Gospel condemns. They did not pretend to be universally true for all times and places. They were contextual, prophetic responses to specific crises — resisting theological distortion and political manipulation. Is it time for churches in the United States to unite to do something similar? Many are sounding the alarm that a major crisis is unfolding in the United States today. Political platforms are draped in religious language. Christian politicians are among the most vocal defenders of exclusionary policies. Christian vocabulary is used to justify everything from white nationalism to the erosion of human rights. In some quarters, the Church has not merely been silent in the face of these distortions — it has become complicit. This is more than a political problem. It is a theological emergency with global ramifications. When faith is harnessed to serve partisan power, when the name of Jesus is used to endorse ideological and political agendas, the Church must speak — not to defend its reputation, but to defend the Gospel itself. What is needed is not a philosophical treatise but a courageous declaration that says: this is who we are, this is what we believe, this is what we reject. A confession that names the idolatries of our time — Christian nationalism, systemic racism, xenophobia, political authoritarianism — and says clearly: this is not the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Such a confession would begin with repentance. It would acknowledge where churches have failed to be faithful: where they have preferred influence over integrity and confused discipleship with dominance. It would reaffirm Christ's lordship over every other loyalty, and declare that justice, mercy and humility are not liberal or conservative values — they are Gospel imperatives. It would not speak for every Christian. It would not demand uniformity. Like Barmen and Belhar, it would arise from communities of conscience — those who can no longer be silent in the face of distortion. It would face opposition and criticism. Barmen and Belhar both drew backlash. But both also offered the Church something priceless: integrity. A way to be faithful in the public square without surrendering the soul of the Gospel. The danger today for churches is not one of persecution but seduction. The seductive pull of power and cultural dominance is nothing new. But the longer churches confuse proximity to power with spiritual authority, the more urgently they need to confess what the Gospel actually is — and what it is not. A confession of faith would not fix everything, but it would be a clarion call, an act of clarity in a time of confusion, an act of courage in a time of compromise. And it would be an invitation — to return to the source, to rediscover the deep well of God's justice, grace and love. Because at the heart of the Christian faith is not a political ideology or a cultural identity. It is a crucified and risen saviour who calls his followers not to rule, but to serve. Not to dominate, but to love. Not to blend in, but to bear witness. Maybe it's time to say that again. Loudly and clearly. If American churches were to come together for that purpose, there would be strong global support — for a Gospel no longer bound by empire, but set free again for justice, mercy and truth, and for a nation that is less preoccupied with its own greatness and more dedicated to the flourishing of all nations, the healing of creation and the ways of peace. ■Graham Redding is a lecturer in chaplaincy studies at the University of Otago.
