Four Christians. Four Conversations. One Faith.

Illustration by R.E. Slater and ChatGPT

Four Christians. Four Conversations.

One Faith.

A Five Act Play

by R.E. Slater and ChatGPT

Christ against empire.

Love against fear.

The gospel is not ideology.

Faith does not live by power.

Where power asks devotion,

idolatry has begun.

---

The Characters (Dramatis Personae)

Jonathan Creed

A Christian nationalist theologian and public advocate. Intelligent, articulate, confident. Believes Christianity and civilizational order are inseparable.

N. T. Wright

Biblical scholar and theologian. Defender of kingdom, cruciform power, and the church as an alternative polis (a self-governing, independent body politic).

Elias Vale

A philosophical and prophetic witness. Concerned with truth, power, and theological deformation.

Silas Reed

A pastoral and ethical witness. Concerned with human dignity, consequence, and the fruits of belief.

---

The Setting

A smallish, round wooden table in a warmly lit library. Many books on various topics rested on shelves along the walls: Scripture, History, Philosophy, Theology, Political thought....

Four chairs were arranged for conversation. A single lamp burned on the lone table. Outside, distant thunder rolled and flashed its coming. The year is unspecified. The crisis is not.

---

The Movements

Act I - Why Christianity?

Act II - Christ and Empire

Act III - Borders and Human Dignity

Act IV - Faith and Power

Act V - Recovering Witness.

---

Prologue

A voice, neither seen nor named, speaks out in the lamplit den. It is the reason the group had agreed to gather and see if they might work out their understandings of "Christ in the public square." On their invitation was written:

"There are times in the church's history when theology is argued in books. And there are times when theology must answer in the presence of existential crisis. This is such a time."

The invitation leaned against the lamp on the small table that held the center of the room as it was read aloud by one of the four. Each of the respondents had automatically gathered around near to one another. By agreement - and by testimony - one would defend church-state power; one would question this arrangement; and, two would represent a "left-of-middle" witness to what would follow.

Their dispute concerned no small matter. It concerned whether the Christian faith, having entangled itself into the tentacles of state power, could still remember their Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ, during the years when it was methodically oppressed and without popular voice.

The lamp continued to burn quietly as a pause settled around the carpeted room. Then one of the voices, a Jonathan Creed, begins. He has eagerly awaited this gathering for several months now to express his views. Near to him, an N. T. (Tom) Wright smiles weakly. To his right, an Elias Vale silently watches from the sidelines while his colleague, Silas Reed, leans back in his chair from the other side of the group, listening intently.

No one rises. Jonathan Creed is the first to the match....

---

Act I - Why Christianity?

(Curtain rises.)

Prominent TV host and podcaster, Jonathan Creed, speaks out. His youth has played out. He finds himself in his middle years with a wife and family, slightly graying, but healthy. He wants to rouse a nation to its feet believing it to be a Christian nation and worthy of defending. He begins by firmly stating,

"Christianity exists because all societies require moral order. Without God's transcendent authority, cultures decay. Without shared virtue, their liberty collapses. Without religious foundations, moral nations lose their coherence."

"... The Christian faith is not merely about personal salvation. It is about civilizational necessity - which I will not apologize for. I hold to this confession in the strongest of terms. A faith that cannot preserve its people can scarcely guide a nation."

(Pause.)

"Further, if Christianity has historically aligned itself with past kingdoms, laws, and nations, perhaps this relation is not corruption, but responsibility, wisdom, and blessed by divine guidance. Certainly, not all power is temptation... but preservation of the faith by Almighty God."

Each of the listening figures adjust themselves in their seats. One, an older figure, leans forward in cautious reply. He is wearing a vest over a wool shirt, and plaid socks closed within laced shoes. His name, N.T. Wright, an reputed Oxford don, known and loved by Christians around the world.

"Now I wonder Jonathan on whether one begins with Caesar or with Jesus? Because if one begins with Jesus, one finds rather quickly the Christian faith did not arise to stabilize empires. Rather, it arose announcing another kingdom. A kingdom not of this world. It was a rather awkward pronouncement for any empire to hear, let alone entertain."

To the side, there was a small, cheshire-like smile spreading across Silas' face, who lightly averred -

"It seems, my friends, that the first Christians did not imagine themselves custodians of Roman order. They imagined themselves as witnesses to a crucified and risen Lord put to death by that same Roman order. That is a rather different vocation of Christianity than as you had just advocated."

He continued, "The church was not born asking, 'How do we preserve civilization?' It began by asking, 'What has God done in Christ, and how shall we live because of it?' Those are not identical questions."

The hook had been set. The bait taken. Jonathan quickly replied, self-sure and building steam, "But surely you would not deny that societies need moral order? Or that Christianity can help provide that order as decreed by God above?"

"Of course not," agreed Wright too quickly. "But the question is whether moral structure comes from the fruit of a loving gospel... or is the driving purpose behind the rule of empire. And those are very different things."

A small pause again held the room for a moment when finally Elias Vale, speaks out, "At issue, - as I see it - whether Christianity exists to underwrite moral social order... or to call all state orders into the witness of divine judgment. This too is no small distinction.

His longtime friend and counselor, Silas Reed, then ventured a another response... a much different response based upon his many years in community ministry, "Perhaps a Christian faith should serve the vulnerable first, rather than a society's moral order? I have often felt the two are not together in their views of morality."

And with that, a long silence settled in as each heard the slow roll of cavernous thunder rumble across the fields towards the cottage home. Each look down in their lap or at the mug of coffee in their hand. Jonathan Creed, having started the conversation, looked up and began anew, preparing for another ideological campaign....

"Very well. Then let us ask directly. If Christianity is not for the preservation of a civilization... what good is it's charters for?"

A quiet smile crossed Wright’s face. Not dismissively. More as one recognizing the right question had finally been asked. One that he might redirect....

"Dear Jonathan, 'What good is Christianity for?' That is precisely the question. It is for announcing that in Jesus, God’s own heavenly kingdom has drawn near. It is for forming a people whose life together bears witness to another way of being human within the sacred-divine. It is for teaching forgiveness where vengeance rules; reconciliation where division hardens; and hope where fear governs."

"And most certainly, a Christian faith is for making Caesar less absolute."

A faint stir passes through the room. Too quickly, too self-assured, Jonathan Creed replies to the sturdy figure whose very presence spoke creedal authority, "But that sounds all-together inward. Spiritual. Beautiful, perhaps. But very, very thin on the outside of things."

"Let me ask forthrightly, 'What of nations? What of borders? What of social collapse? What of enemies? Can such a faith  weak in power be able to survive itself let alone history?'"

Carefully, Wright folded his aged hands. "My dear Jonathan, the early Christians asked exactly that - except with hungry lions viciously growling nearby."

Silas laughed softly into his coffee. "Well played, Tom, well played."

Wright continued, "The question is not whether Christianity survives history. The question is what Christianity becomes when religious survival is made its highest aim. And therein, I think, lies our greatest difficulty."

Elias leaned forward for the first time in reply, "Perhaps what Mr. Wright suggests is that Christianity ceases to be itself when preservation becomes its first principle. For what begins in fear may end in domination."

Jonathan answered sharply, though not angrily, "And what begins in Christian idealism may also end in ruin!"

Silas Reed quickly looked up as if feeling the pain of Creed's implication - "Or perhaps what begins in love may yet end in justice!"

Another silence. The rumbling thunder moving further off.

Jonathan Creed slowly nodded, as if granting the argument had reached a place he had not intended, when he spoke again, "If what you say is true, Tom..."

and here Wright smiled at the familiar use of his name,

"... then we have not yet spoken of empire at all."

Wright answered, "No. We have only just this moment arrived at it."

The lamp flickered with the last flash of lightening holding each figure in their thoughts...

End of Act I.

(Curtain falls.)

---

Act II - Christ and Empire

(Curtain rises.)

The storm had silenced. Evening dusk was gathering. The collected group was moving about stretching their legs, refilling their drinks, snatching a small finger sandwich, and standing or sitting loosely about. The ever strident Creed is the first to launch believing his role to be that of protagonist and admonisher. His voice are calmer. His sentences more deliberate. Almost professorial.

"Very well Tom, let us speak of empire. If Christianity has always stood apart from power, why did it not remain in the catacombs? Why did it allow Constantine? Why did the medieval institute of Christendom form over the centuries as if it needed to protect itself? More importantly, why were the laws that lasted throughout Western civilization seemed to be shaped by Christian moral vision? And why did those nations, however imperfectly, seek to order public life under a Christian God rather than some other god?"

He paused. Then leaned toward Wright. "Or shall we say, that two thousand years of Christian civilization was merely a mistake?"

In Creed's own mind, that was a magnificent salvo and deeply entangled provocation. It would force Wright to answer history - not merely to his Christian ideals.

But Wright did not answer immediately. He took off his glasses. Turned them once or twice across his fingers. Wiped them a bit absent-mindedly, then spoke quietly, "No, Jonathan. Not a mistake. But perhaps a temptation."

A stillness again settled from respect as much as for reflection...

Wright continued, "Constantine was not the first arrival of God's kingdom on earth. It was the historical accommodation by both church and state to create a more worthy kingdom of God on earth. Perhaps, a providential one, as some might say, but history might question that line of thinking."

"... Let us also say that accommodation of the gospel to the state - versus the gospel itself - are not identical things." He leaned slightly forward towards Creed in careful interplay, "The question is not whether Christianity had entered history, is it?"

"Of course it did, said Creed.

To which Wright replied, "Ah, but the question, I think, is if in entering into power the church also began forgetting how power had crucified its Lord?"

Jonathan’s jaw tightened slightly. "Surely you cannot dismiss Christendom so easily."

"I am not dismissing it," Wright replied. "I am distinguishing it. There is a difference between the church influencing society... and the church imagining itself secured by empire. Those are not the same thing."

Elias Vale, who had been pacing slowly near the window, turned. "Perhaps the deeper question is whether Constantine converted the empire... or whether the empire, in part, converted the church?"

Silas let out a small breath, "That," he said, "is a dangerous question to place on a supper table."

A small laughter moved through the room. Even Jonathan smiled. But only for a moment. Then he answered,

"And yet nations do not govern by Sermons on the Mount. They govern by law. By force, when necessary. By borders. By arms. Surely you do not imagine Rome, or America, can be run on Christ's Beatitudes alone!"

Wright looked up. "No. I imagine the Beatitudes were given precisely because empires cannot imagine them."

Another silence. Longer now. More thoughtful. Outside, a late wind moved through the wet trees. Jonathan slowly folded his arms as if setting his battlements, then spoke with more energy than before,

"If Christ and empire cannot be reconciled... What becomes of Christian civilization?"

Wright answered, "That depends, Jonathan, on how we respond. How the church determines its responsibilities in response to its governing powers... on whether Christian civilization is our hope... or our idol.

Jonathan did not answer at once. He looked into the lamp as though the question had altered shape before him. Then spoke out, "And if what you call idol..." he paused, "...another calls divine inheritance?"

No one spoke. It was Silas who finally answered. "Then perhaps the question is whether godly blessing you call 'inheritance,' serves life... or demands sacrifice by those excluded from it."

Jonathan turned quickly toward Silas, "Excluded?"

Silas nodded. "The migrant. The stranger. The woman refused voice. The neighbor and her family who are threatened with deportation. The ones empire always names as outsiders."

This time the room held still. It's breath caught mid-sentence. Elias sighed and stated, half under his breath, measuring his friend Silas' instincts, "Then perhaps empire is not first tested at its center... but at its borders." It was a practical observation that he and Silas both had observed in recent years.

Wrenching about, Jonathan looked at him sharply. Then at Silas. And lastly at Wright. "Borders...?"

"Yes, Jonathan," Wright answered, "Borders. We have at last arrived where you had intended to go. To bless a nation's cruel migrancy laws by cloaking its borders in a Christian gospel that drips with the pained lives of those living on the edges of Christian enculturation."

End of Act II.

(Curtain falls.)

---

Act III - Borders and Human Dignity

Part I

(Curtain rises.)

The remains of the day were falling. Supper was entertained in the dining hall. Wall sconces and chandeliers shone about. The uneasy occupants offered prayer, bread, and wine, in informal communion with one another. Though the room was larger, more lit, it somehow felt smaller. No further words on the subject had been offered. Only light banter and familiarity.

“Borders.” The word hung in the air unable to find escape through the nearest paned window. It was Silas who was the first to speak. Not loudly. Almost as if thinking aloud within his pastoral soul.

"When a nation speaks of borders, I often imagines lines. But when those standing on the line speak... they speak of children. Families. Fear. Hunger. Refuge. Asylum...."

He paused. Then looked directly at Jonathan. "I wonder, whether what governments call security... is what the vulnerable too often experience as abandonment and betrayal?"

Jonathan sensed the challenged, not really appreciating it, never having lived as an "unwanted" or "illegal." He was careful to answer, but remained thickly dense to Silas' challenge. Callously, if not cruelly, he retorted, "And I wonder whether a nation without borders remains a nation at all?" He had fully excluded the difficulty of the challenge and re-entered his early assessments of the priority and right of Christian nationalism.

"Compassion cannot erase order," rose Silas' reply, ignoring Jonathan's repositioning.

"No society survives if it cannot distinguish guest from citizen... or, refuge from chaos," rejoined Creed.

Silas nodded. "That may seem a fair assessment. But perhaps the question is not whether borders exist. But how Christian theology justifies that they be enforced."

Silverware continued to clattered about the plates. Cups were raised and lowered. The unspeaking figures listen carefully to the heated repartee. Then N. T. Wright spoke up, "... And whether Christians see strangers as threats... or as neighbors as the good Samaritan had."

Unsatisfied, Jonathan leaned back ready for the challenge, "Must every political prudence now be called cruelty?!"

Elias can no longer sit quietly. He must say something. "No. But every cruelty defended as Christian prudence should be questioned!"

A long pause.

Then Jonathan quickly retorted once again, as he did in his podcaster's booth, safed from the world outside - and before a nation's rank-and-file audiences, "And what of order in creation?" he stressed. "What of male and female? Of biblical gender difference? And what of personal and societal morality? What of natural inherited forms we did not invent but are found in nature's vocabulary?!"

And there it was... it finally was declared with the heat of conviction and backed by the dead-sure assurance of Scripture - Gender. Human dignity. Morality. Ethics. And the Bible. It had all come to a head.

(curtain falls.)

Part II

(Curtain rises again.)

Wright did not respond at once. He was looking down at the remains of his meal that the kindly matron had cooked and at that moment was removing from the table. He then looked up at Jonathan, and said quietly,

"Jonathan, you have just joined several questions together as though they were one. Creation. Gender. Nationalised borders. Biblical authority. They are not identical questions."

Jonathan answered almost immediately as he always did before the TV cameras, "They are joined by divine order from a divine book under divine inspiration by the Holy Spirit of God. If you remove order, you dissolve moral reality. It's that simple."

Even as Wright nodded he disagreed with the logic and the assurances.

"I understand your concern. But order is not the same as rigidity. And moral seriousness is not secured by fear of difference."

He lifted a hand gently, "The question is not whether inherited forms matter. They do. But the deeper question is whether inheritance is interpreted through domination... or through love."

Jonathan frowned at this answer. Tom was being obtuse again. He wasn't listening. He was being his old "muddle-in-the-middle" English self responding with Anglican logic....

"Scripture has boundaries! Any common reader will find them again-and-again in the Bible!"

Unpersuaded, Wright answered, "Yes, but Scripture also has its trajectories."

Elias Vale next leaned in, "Perhaps the deeper issue is whether one reads sacred texts as fences... as borderlands... or as living witnesses?"

To this Silas nodded, then added, "And whether persons-of-difference are treated as problems to be managed... or neighbors to be encountered and embraced."

Jonathan’s voice sharpened at these exchanges. They weren't listening. None of them. He flew in again with his national-voice-of-the-people heightened in pitch, "So now all limits are oppression? All policies and morals, harsh and immoral?"

Wright quickly replied, "No. But every limit claiming divine authority should be open to moral scrutiny. For without critique and accountability, harm and oppression surely arise."

Here the dining had stopped. Forks and knives were at last laid down. For a moment a divide was being crossed. A watershed of sorts. Here, Wright marched resolutely forward as any well-bred Englishman worth his Anglican tradition would do, "The tragedy, Jonathan, is that Christians have often defended exclusions in the name of Christian order... only to later discover they were ripping apart wounds and trampling upon indignities."

No one moved.

Even Creed for once, did not answer. He had felt Wright's preternatural heat rising.

At length he said, "And who decides when order becomes wound?"

Wright answered, then paused, "That... may be where we allow the vulnerable to finally speak and share their experience."

End of Act III.

(Curtain falls.)

---

Act IV - Faith and Power

(Curtain rises.)

Diner is over. Early evening has arrived. The associates rise, remove themselves from the supper table, collect themselves. Perhaps go outside to inhale the rain-soaked air before returning inside.

The dishes have been cleared. A new round of coffee and drinks are made available. The lamps are lowered a bit to encourage a conversational room. But what was once collegiality had become tense, more tribunal-like.

No one seems eager to begin. But of course, the first out of the gate with no remittance, no second thoughts, no penitence, was Creed... his voice harder, ready for dispute, and eager for a fight.

"If what you have said is true... If empire tempts... If borders wound... If even Scripture can be misread, misjudged, misapplied... then tell me plainly. How are a Christian people to resist worldly evil? How is a Christian nation to survive the threat of opposition that it might not be persecuted again? And how is churchly power to be exercised - if at all?!

He looked directly at Wright and said, "Or have you left us only with love too weak to govern?"

This was a tremendous opening statement. It was - at its heart - the deepest, soundest nationalist objection that a Christian might project.

There was no caricature. Only serious objection.

The remaining three, now gathering up their own thoughts and convictions, did not answer immediately. They waited for Jonathan to settle down. To not feel threatened or excluded. Not diminished nor made to feel of little worth.

His vivid assertions hung in the room like acrid smoke. It was Elias, not Wright, who finally spoke in a voice which offered an unusual calmness to it.

"Jonathan, you have mistaken love for weakness. That is an old mistake. Empires have made it often. Love does not mean powerlessness. It means power refusing domination. It means force disciplined by conscience. It means refusing to make fear the architect of so-called divine order. Rightly, it sees the other as a person in their own right; responds to the other lovingly, and refuses to degrade or delegitimize the other as has been done countless times within Christian societies."

It was exactly the kind of answer Creed had heard before. He wasted no time and answered at once, "But evil does not yield to conscience. It yields to strength!"

Purposefully, Silas set down his cup. His hackles rising. "And yet, strength without conscience becomes the very evil we are to resist. How do you explain that."

That landed heavily. Jonathan turned to Wright. "And you, Tom? Do you believe Christian nations must be allowed to defend themselves both internally and externally? For if they do not preserve themselves they will fall."

Wright rose up, paced a bit, then spoke with some gravity, "Of course Jonathan. The question is not whether power exists. The question is whether Christians baptize it too quickly." He paused. "Once the church begins calling domination providence... it crosses a very dangerous threshold to the health of a nation, let alone it's people, and the faithful within."

Jonathan leaned forward testedly, "And what of rulers who would defend the church from corruption, failure, and demise? What if imperfect leaders, even flawed leaders, are nonetheless committed to preserve Christian order against dissolution? May preachers not bless such rulers?" He was giving each word weight now....

And there it was. The room sensed it before it knew it. The question had finally surfaced. A sensible reply must find accordance with the declaration clearly made.

Silas answered immediately, "Pastors may pray for rulers. Scripture permits that. But blessing power is not the same as sanctifying it. When preachers confuse these things... they cease speaking prophetically... and begin speaking as court theologians." Yes, he too could stress words and vocabulary.

Elias gave a faint smile. "Chaplains to Caesar," he quipped.

Jonathan did not laugh. Not even a little bit. But then asked, more directly than before, "... And if the threat is apocalyptic to a Christian nature? Foreordained in Scripture itself? God's very words of warning to His people? If a people believes Christian civilization hangs by a thread? What then?"

And here we conclude. For the first time that night even Tom Wright looked troubled.

End of Act IV.

(Curtain falls.)

---

Act V - Recovering Witness

(Curtain rises.)

No one spoke. The question remained where Jonathan had left it. Intentionally. Forcefully. He felt his beliefs deeply within his bones and had no intention of leaving his three friends so easily off the hook denying the realities of life as he saw it.

If the threat is apocalyptic... what then? Like many others, he felt this intently.

Outside, the evening sun had set. The air had been washed clean by the new rain. Darkness was closing up and it was time to draw the drama to a close. 

They had each been down these roads before - perhaps not with one another, but with their congregations and audiences; with their loved ones and close friends; with the news outlets and their bible students. 

At length it was not Wright who answered. Nor Jonathan. But Silas Reed. But he did not answer the question. He offered something alongside of it...

"If a people believe civilization hangs by a thread... that would explain the societal fear of disassembly - that a nation's faith might become something other than it's inherited national identity... if not it's belief in its own national destiny by divine decree."

"... Yet this does not sanctify what fear becomes when fear acts unChristianly. Rather, it urges it's Christian faithful to inspect who they are - and who they are becoming - in light of those fears. Whether those fears, if legitimate, require a revisit to Jesus' teachings in their response to the new opportunities growing around God's children."

Creed did not respond. Neither did Wright. He had spoken enough for the evening and was becoming tired. But Elias Vale spoke-up, almost as if continuing a thought older than the room itself with its vast liturgies on printed page lining their souls.

"Perhaps every age believes itself near the apocalypse. Empires certainly do. They often name their anxiety providence. And their self-preservation destiny. But what is deemed divine exclusivity - or divine blessing - may more surely be excuse to act profanely before a loving, embracing God.

Jonathan looked at him sharply. "Then you would deny civilizational peril? Claim the onus is on us in how we act or don't act!"

"No," Elias said. "I deny that peril automatically authorizes enforced, authoritative domination. That it is we, ourselves, who must be circumspect before God in all our ways, alliances, and activities, ahead of our nation-of-residence.

Altogether weary, Wright spoke, almost to himself, "Too often the church has often mistaken crisis for divine permission rather than realizing the event as opportunity for divine seed-sowing and harvest. Power and force redeems no one. Acts of impugned self-righteousness, self-aggrandizement, overstatement, persecutorial allowances, or outright cruelty are not acts of the Holy Spirit. By divine permission, I mean permission which acts humbly, in league with one's fellow citizens, kindly, in thoughtfulness and with tenderness."

Then Jonathan, after hearing long-winded Wright out, replied "And what if you are wrong? What if history belongs to those willing to wield power while you hesitate to love and sow seeds?"

Wright looked at him sadly, "Then, in God's work of reconciliation, we fail. But better failure in acts of love than triumph in acts of falsehood and evil."

Silas closed his eyes briefly. Vale looked about. The point had been made. Nothing more could be said. Christians come or go on the dais of God. If they were to be guilty of anything, let them be guilty of loving those around them.

At length Elias spoke the final words of the evening,

"Perhaps witness begins... not when power is acclaimed,
but when power is refused ultimacy."

No one answered. Jonathan stared into his empty, darkened glass. Wright folded his tired hands. Silas looked toward the door. And Elias felt a bit alone, not for the first time that night.

The time had come to depart. A Christian fellowship had failed to unite and laid tattered about the enclave. Each had felt the heavy arguments of an outside world either wrestling for answers or stomping across the fortress lines in battlement dress.

Nothing was won or lost. But a pervasive loss was nonetheless felt. And that more deeply by some....

Outside, the blowing wind moved through wet branches and up across the night sky towards the dawning of another day. The chimes had struck and it was time to bid goodnight.

On the backside of the invitation, when turned over underneath the lamplight, was read -

"The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit" (John 3.8)

 End of Act V.

(Curtain falls.)