Musings on a Flag
I was surprised—but not that surprised. I’ve seen American flags all of my life. I attended Memorial Day services at the local cemetery as a boy with my father who, as a veteran and a minister, would lead a prayer at the noon-day service. I’ve seen the flag on my parents’ front porch. I once owned a home with a 25 foot flag pole—and I flew Old Glory. I’ve been to ball games on countless occasions, attended public assemblies, and walked into civic buildings in dozens of states in the USA where I have witnessed the presence of the American flag. I confess that I am grateful for its presence in manifold ways in American life. But I was still surprised to see the flag in a church building.
In all of my experiences of worshipping in congregations, and in all of my years as a “sixth generation” person in Churches of Christ, I was surprised to find a congregation that chose to place an American flag in their place of worship. It happened about a year ago—and I’m still pondering it.
Some of my readers know why this surprises me. Others may not. So, let me take a shot at this. Churches of Christ and the larger Stone-Campbell tradition is a distinctly American manifestation of the church. And yet, even in the early 19th century frontier of North America, in the places where the earliest congregations were formed, the theological imagination of the first generations of the Stone-Campbell tradition were very careful to distinguish between the kingdom of this world and the kingdom of God.
Most congregations took seriously their primary loyalty to the kingdom of God. That loyalty often resulted, by the late 19th century, in choosing not to serve in the military or not participating in elections. By the time of the early 20th century, a number of persons became conscientious objectors to the horrible conflict in Europe that we know as World War I. As a manifestation of this kingdom loyalty, American flags were typically not displayed in places of worship.
By the middle of the 20th century, however, with the rise of communist Russia and the aggression of Germany, Italy, and Japan that led to World War II, there remained few persons from Churches of Christ who were conscientious objectors. Likewise, more and more persons participated in civic life by engaging in political processes and elections. Even so, the deep conviction regarding the sacredness of God’s rule and reign was still clear, and churches maintained a well-defined distinction between the kingdom of God and human governments of the world. As a result of this conviction, American flags were still not displayed in places of worship.
All in all, creating a distance between the kingdom of God and the kingdoms of this world is one of the things that I’ve long admired about our heritage. Certainly, I can point out some downsides. For example, we’ve been slow to recognize the ways in which that distance long delayed any constructive response to the reality of racism. Yet, marking our allegiance first and foremost to God has given our heritage the capacity to avoid getting swiftly sucked into whatever cultural or political current happens to flow by. The clear allegiance to the kingdom of God over other kingdoms creates the space to reflect and respond with a theological awareness to the vagaries of cultural currents. It reminds us that God’s rule and God’s work in and through Jesus Christ is the one constant—and that, on the other hand, human kingdoms come and human kingdoms go.
The absence of a flag in our places of worship functions as a reminder of this reality.
That is why I was surprised when I walked into a place of worship and saw—for the first time in my life—an American flag present. It shocked me, and I’m still trying to sort it out. I fear that many of our churches are in danger of becoming American enclaves who happen to utilize some Christian language. Or can we create the space in our congregations where we are “full out” Christians who happen to live in the United States?
I think I’ve made it clear that I am a fan of the American flag. And I’m proud to be an American citizen. But I never want to confuse my American citizenship with my prior, deeper, infinitely more significant commitment to the One who rules and reigns forever.
So, what I want to say to those of us who lead in our churches is this: in keeping with the witness of Scripture and with our own particular tradition—let’s keep things clear. Our one clear allegiance is to God and to God’s agenda in the world, not to media agendas, political rhetoric, or social movements that paint themselves with some Christian hues in an effort to access the power of human kingdoms. So here are two closing (and, I hope, practical) observations:
As Christian people living in the way of Jesus, we inevitably need to address injustice. Matters of race, economic inequity, climate change, and so much more require our attention. I encourage us to minimize thinking about these weighty concerns as “issues”—as abstractions of whatever political agenda is being ground out in the daily news. Rather, using Jesus’ question as a guide, let us take up the task of asking, “who is my neighbor?” People matter in the kingdom of God—who are the people in your neighborhood?
As Christian people living in the way of Jesus, the Bible is rather clear about the one thing that guides our life and conduct. Loving God and loving neighbor sums things up rather well. So asking ourselves, “What is the loving thing?” becomes the way forward to action for Christian people. The old camp song said it well: “They will know we are Christians by our love.”
Practicing love and caring for our neighbor will set congregations on a path that distinguishes Christian community from much of the rhetoric present in public life today. But action, action grounded in the way of Jesus, will set the Christian faith in a place to be seen—like a city set on a hill. With so much distraction in the world, the church that embodies love will be like a flag on a city wall. And like all flags, the church that bears witness to God's good action in the world is simply pointing toward something greater than itself.
Lead well!
Carson
