There is always a temptation before the people of God to look at power, admire its strength, and quietly begin to trust it. That temptation was there in Bible times, and it is still with us now. The names have changed. The weapons are more advanced. The slogans are more polished. But the seduction is the same. Empire still asks for loyalty. Empire still promises peace. Empire still offers protection. And many Christians are still tempted to give it more of their hearts than they realize.1
In Scripture, empire is never just a large political structure. It is a way of ordering the world through domination, fear, wealth, propaganda, and the concentration of power in the hands of those who claim they can secure the future. Egypt had its Pharaoh. Babylon had its Nebuchadnezzar. Rome had its Caesar. Each one presented itself as necessary, unshakable, and even sacred. Each claimed the right to choose who mattered, who could be sacrificed, and what future existed.
That is why the Bible does not treat empire as a small side issue. It sees empire as a rival lordship.
Pharaoh says, “You exist to serve my economy.” Babylon says, “You will live under my story.” Caesar says, “Peace comes through my sword.” Empire always talks this way. It takes the language of order, security, and greatness and fills it with violence. It offers peace, but only on its own terms. It offers stability, but only after fear has done its work, creating an environment where dissent is suppressed and compliance is enforced through intimidation. It promises blessings, but usually only for those who stand nearest to power.
Empire Then, Empire Now
In Bible times, empire was easier to identify. It came with armies, tribute, monuments, decrees, and rulers who openly demanded submission. Today, empire is often more subtle, but no less real. It still appears through military force, but also through markets, media, surveillance, nationalism, and the shaping of public imagination. It does not always ask people to bow before a golden image. More often it asks them to place their deepest trust in national strength, economic power, political strongmen, cultural dominance, or civilizational pride.
Ancient empire demanded public acts of loyalty. Modern empire often seeks inward surrender. It wants people to believe that history belongs to those with the biggest weapons, the strongest economy, the loudest voice, and the least patience for mercy. It teaches people to think that domination is realism, fear is wisdom, and crushing enemies is the same thing as securing peace.2
And this is where many Christians are quietly swept along.
They may begin with understandable concerns about disorder, social decay, conflict, or moral confusion. But then, little by little, they start imagining that the kingdom of God needs the machinery of empire to survive. They begin speaking as though political might can achieve what only the Spirit of God can produce. They may still speak the name of Jesus, but their practical hope starts resting somewhere else, such as in political power or societal influence, rather than in the transformative work of the Spirit of God.
That is always the danger: Christians may continue mentioning Christ while placing their trust in Caesar.
The Christian Confession Against Empire
This is why the first Christian confession was so explosive. To say “Jesus is Lord” was never just a private religious statement. It was a public challenge to every rival claim. It meant Caesar is not lord. It meant Rome is not the savior of the world. It meant that the true ruler is the risen Messiah, not the emperor (Matt. 28:18; Phil. 2:9–11).3
That confession remains just as unsettling now as it was then, because empire still hates competition.
The New Testament will not let believers merge the lordship of Christ with the claims of worldly power. When the devil offered him the kingdoms of the world, Jesus rejected them (Matt. 4:8–10). He would not seize the nations by spectacle, coercion, or force. He chose instead the long road of obedience, suffering, and self-giving love. He entered Jerusalem not on a war horse but on a donkey. Instead of a crown of gold, he wore a crown of thorns.
This fact matters because the cross is not only about private forgiveness. It is also God’s public exposure of what empire really is. Empire claims that power saves. The cross reveals that the rulers of this age do not understand the wisdom of God (1 Cor. 2:8). Empire claims that peace comes through superior force. The gospel announces that Christ “is our peace,” making one new humanity through his death, not through domination (Eph. 2:14–16). Empire claims some lives must be crushed so history can move forward. The resurrection declares that the rejected one is the true Lord of the world.4
Why Christians Must Refuse It
Christians must refuse empire because empire constantly asks for what belongs to Christ alone.
It asks for ultimate trust.
It asks for moral compromise.
It asks for emotional allegiance.
It asks believers to excuse what they would condemn in others, so long as it serves their side.
This phenomenon is why so many Christians become confused. They do not usually start by wanting to worship power. They start by wanting safety, order, influence, or protection. But empire is skilled at dressing itself in respectable language. It can wrap itself in patriotism, civilizational panic, religious symbolism, and even biblical vocabulary. It can make domination sound holy and vengeance sound righteous.
Yet the church cannot serve the Lamb and the beast at the same time. Revelation’s imagery is powerful precisely because empire does not merely govern; it demands devotion. It wants the imagination, conscience, and loyalty of the saints. But the church belongs to another kingdom. Its citizenship is in heaven, which means its life is governed by another Lord and another future (Phil. 3:20).5
To refuse empire, then, does not mean Christians must withdraw from public life. It means the government has a legitimate role. It does not mean believers become passive, indifferent, or politically illiterate. Christians are called to pray for rulers, seek justice, love neighbor, and bear faithful witness within the world. But that is not the same as giving empire their hearts.
The church must never confuse responsible public engagement with worshipful allegiance.
The state is not the church.
The nation is not the kingdom of God.
Military victory is not the same as righteousness.
Economic success is not the same as blessing.
And cultural dominance is not the same as faithfulness.
What Refusal Looks Like
So what does refusal look like in practice?
It means refusing to call evil good simply because it helps our tribe. It means refusing to baptize nationalism in Christian language. It means refusing to cheer cruelty, dehumanization, or violence as though they were signs of God’s kingdom arriving. It means refusing fear as the engine of discipleship.
It also means becoming the sort of community empire cannot understand.
This entails forming a community that speaks the truth, even when it’s easier to spread propaganda.
They are a people who stand up for the underprivileged, even when the world tends to favor the powerful.
They welcome strangers when the empire seeks someone to hold accountable.
They are a people who extend forgiveness when seeking revenge seems more fulfilling.
They understand that our enemies are just as human as we are.
A people who overcome not by mirroring the world’s violence, but by the blood of the Lamb and the word of their testimony (Rev. 12:11).6
That kind of church may look weak in the eyes of the world. But then again, the gospel has always looked weak to those who trust the sword. Rome thought crosses proved who was in charge. God turned the cross into the sign that Rome was not.
A Better Allegiance
A question of allegiance lies at the core of this issue. Whose world do Christians really believe this is? If it belongs to empire, then fear makes sense, and compromise becomes inevitable. But if it belongs to the crucified and risen Jesus, then the church is free. The church is free to oppose false lordships. Free to tell the truth. Free to love enemies. It is liberating to endure hardships instead of adoring authority. Free to refuse empire because it already belongs to a better king.
That is why Christians must refuse empire. This is not due to their lack of concern for the world, but rather because they understand who is truly in control of it. At baptism, they passed from one dominion to another (Col. 1:13). They no longer belong to the kingdoms that rule by fear and force. They belong to the Son’s kingdom, where greatness is measured by service, victory comes through faithfulness, and the Lamb owns the future, not the beast.
Christians do not refuse empire because politics does not matter. They refuse empire because Jesus is Lord, and no throne on earth can carry the weight of that name.
Notes
- James D. G. Dunn, The Theology of Paul the Apostle (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998).
↩︎ - Richard A. Horsley, Jesus and Empire: The Kingdom of God and the New World Disorder (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003).
↩︎ - N. T. Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God, 2 vols. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2013).
↩︎ - John Howard Yoder, The Politics of Jesus, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1994).
↩︎ - Michael J. Gorman, Reading Revelation Responsibly: Uncivil Worship and Witness (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2011).
↩︎ - Lesslie Newbigin, Foolishness to the Greeks: The Gospel and Western Culture (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1986).
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