Rediscovering the Church’s Prophetic Mission Against War and Empire

Not everyone is born a libertarian, and even those who were must come to it on their own terms. We believe in the importance of hearing the stories of others, including what they wrestled with, what they rejected, what they embraced, and how their journey led them to where they are today. We know these stories are important to share, not because each of us is a hero, but because heroism is found in all efforts of any size to make pursue a Christian ethos and embrace a way of life that enables and encourages flourishing. We offer you these stories as an encouragement and inspiration to help you bolster your faith in the Lord and your belief in human freedom.

Growing up in a conservative household, my early worldview was shaped by a blend of strong Republican ideals and a vibrant, charismatic Christian faith. My father, a converted Jewish Christian and missionary, was deeply committed to his faith, leading a ministry that built widow and orphan centers in Ghana and supported African immigrant church plants in the U.S. This exposure offered me a view of Christianity beyond the Americanized Evangelical culture, and planted seeds that would eventually challenge my political assumptions. Witnessing the global nature of the Church through my dad’s multi-national ministry opened my eyes to how faith transcends borders and cultures. It made me question the narrow, often nationalistic “Americanized” version of Christianity prevalent in American Evangelical circles.

The Early Tensions Between Faith and Politics

Looking back, I can see that the tension between my faith and politics was present long before I ever realized it. Teachings like the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats, where Jesus emphasizes that our actions toward “the least of these” are actions unto Him, instilled in me a deep sense of compassion and justice. Yet, these convictions often clashed with the conservative political rhetoric I was surrounded by—especially when I started to understand the global repercussions of American foreign policy and economic practices.

As I matured, I began to notice inconsistencies. How could I champion life and liberty while supporting policies that led to the suffering and deaths of innocents abroad? How could I reconcile a loving, compassionate God with a political system that endorsed wars and economic policies harming the most vulnerable? These early questions marked the first cracks in my conservative worldview.

This internal conflict set the stage for my eventual libertarian journey. It wasn’t a single moment of revelation but a gradual unraveling—a process of questioning, learning, and re-evaluating my beliefs. Over time, I would move through various political ideologies, each step bringing me closer to a philosophy that truly aligned with my faith’s core values.

That’s an overview of what my journey was, which I thought would be helpful to start with. To get more granular, let me start with the most powerful memory from my adolescence regarding faith and politics, and you’ll begin to see, I think, how my journey initially took form.

A Shattered Paradigm: The Seeds of Change

High school was where the cracks in my conservative worldview began to form. I vividly remember an AP history class where we studied U.S. foreign policy in the Middle East and examined bin Laden’s declaration of war. It was jarring to realize the extent to which American actions had provoked resentment, leading to tragic consequences like 9/11. The narratives I had grown up with—that America was a purely benevolent force—began to crumble.

What made this realization even more disturbing was recognizing how deeply many Christians, especially those from the circles I grew up in, were complicit in supporting and even celebrating these violent policies. It wasn’t just the government waging wars—it was believers, pastors, and entire congregations cheering it on, framing it as a righteous battle against evil. I saw people who preached about loving your neighbor and turning the other cheek simultaneously justifying, excusing, and in some cases reveling in the destruction of entire cities and the deaths of innocent men, women, and children.

This wasn’t an abstract geopolitical issue anymore—it became a deeply personal and spiritual crisis. How could followers of Christ, who is called the Prince of Peace, so readily endorse violence and war? How could they reconcile Jesus’ teachings on mercy and love with the brutal realities of bombings, invasions, and the collateral damage that claimed countless innocent lives? It felt like a profound betrayal, not only of Christian ethics but of Christ Himself.

This realization shook me to my core. It wasn’t just about politics—it called into question the integrity of the faith community I had grown up in. The dissonance between the message of peace I read in Scripture and the bloodshed celebrated in the name of religion forced me to re-examine everything I thought I knew about faith, politics, and morality. This was the catalyst that set me on the path of questioning, deconstructing, and ultimately seeking a political philosophy that truly aligned with the teachings of Christ.

This awakening sparked a political shift. I gravitated toward the center-left, embracing democratic socialism and voices like Bernie Sanders, The Young Turks, and Sam Seder. Their critiques of war, corporate greed, and systemic injustice resonated deeply, especially when viewed through the lens of Christian compassion for the marginalized. I adopted many progressive stances, championing civil liberties, opposing endless wars, and advocating for policies that aimed to uplift “the least of these.”

My time on the left was marked by an intense desire to protect the vulnerable and challenge systems of oppression. I became passionate about issues like health care reform, income inequality, and criminal justice reform. Yet, over time, I noticed contradictions. The same movement that championed compassion often dismissed or mocked traditional Christian values. Identity politics became a dominating force, shifting focus from issues of war and economic justice to debates over language and cultural appropriation. This created an internal conflict: I cared deeply about justice, but I didn’t feel at home in a movement that seemed increasingly hostile to my faith.

Faith as a Guiding Light Through Political Shifts

Throughout this political evolution, my faith remained central. The image of God’s holy mountain in Isaiah—a place of peace where even animals no longer harm each other—reinforced my belief that God abhors violence. This theological conviction made me deeply skeptical of state-sanctioned violence, whether through war or oppressive laws. The universality of God’s love, transcending borders and nationalities, also made me question the moral justifications for many government actions.

Scripture became a lens through which I viewed all political systems. I began to see how both the left and the right fell short of the biblical ideal of peace and justice. I wrestled with the idea that perhaps no earthly political system could fully embody the Kingdom of God, leading me to search for alternatives.

The Libertarian Awakening

My journey toward libertarianism wasn’t abrupt but gradual—a series of “red-pill” moments. The 2016 election was pivotal. After reluctantly supporting Hillary Clinton, disillusionment set in, especially as the left increasingly embraced identity politics sidelining the anti-war and civil liberties stances that had initially drawn me in.

Around this time, I stumbled into libertarian circles, initially through YouTube debates. A debate between Ben Shapiro and Cenk Uygur introduced me to critiques of centralized economic planning. This led me down a rabbit hole, discovering voices like Tom Woods, Dave Smith, and eventually Ron Paul. The concept that “behind every government law is the threat of force” deeply resonated. If my Christian faith called me to peace and non-violence, how could I support a system built on coercion?

The tipping point was embracing the idea that “taxation is theft.” Initially dismissive, I found the arguments compelling, especially when coupled with critiques of central banking and state-driven warfare. Joining a local political meetup group—filled with Mises Caucus libertarians—cemented my shift. I was introduced to thinkers like Mises, Rothbard, Hayek, and Bob Murphy, which deepened my understanding of free markets and individual liberty.

I distinctly remember the first time I voiced my skepticism about taxation in the group. What about utilities? Law enforcement & protection of property? And of course, I asked about “muh roads”! The answers I received were thoughtful and rooted in economic principles I had never considered. Free markets, they argued, could not only replace government services but do so more efficiently and ethically. Slowly, the cognitive dissonance faded, and I found myself fully embracing libertarian anarchism.

Reconciling Libertarianism with Christian Faith

Theological hurdles remained. How did Old Testament Israel’s laws fit into this new worldview? What about what Paul says in Romans 13 to “submit to governing authorities” or Jesus’ command to “render unto Caesar”? Wrestling with these questions led me to look beyond the traditions I was raised in, leading me to explore the reformed tradition, covenant theology, and eventually the works of my LCI colleagues Gregory Baus and Kerry Baldwin.

Romans 13, in particular, was a major hurdle. Many interpret it as a blanket endorsement of all government authority, but as I studied the passage more deeply, I began to see it differently. I came to understand that Paul wasn’t offering a wholesale endorsement of any and all governments, but rather describing the ideal role of civil governance—maintaining justice and protecting the innocent. When governments deviate from this purpose, becoming agents of oppression and injustice, they no longer fit the description Paul laid out.

Similarly, Jesus’ instruction to ‘render unto Caesar’ wasn’t a broad affirmation of state authority. Instead, it was a clever and profound response to the trap set by the Pharisees. Rather than endorsing taxation, Jesus’ answer challenges us to consider where our true allegiances lie—raising the deeper question: what is owed to God, and what is owed to Caesar? (Hint: it’s not necessarily everything Caesar demands.)

An even deeper shift came when I considered the Mosaic Covenant. For much of my life, I had difficulty reconciling OT Israel with the teachings of Christ. But as I delved into covenant theology, I realized that the Mosaic Covenant was a unique agreement between God and Israel, serving a specific purpose in redemptive history. It wasn’t meant to be a timeless blueprint for all nations. In Christ, the Mosaic Covenant was fulfilled, and the theocratic governance of Israel came to an end. This realization clarified that modern civil governments are not called to replicate Israel’s laws but should be evaluated through broader biblical principles of justice, mercy, and peace.

This theological shift allowed me to see that Scripture doesn’t grant governments moral exceptions to oppress or coerce. Instead, it calls humans to higher standards of justice and peace—ideals most consistent with libertarian principles.

I came to see that the Bible does not give the state moral exceptions. Commands against theft and murder apply universally, even to governments. This realization affirmed my belief that libertarian anarchism is the most consistent political philosophy with Christian ethics.

Challenges, Community, and Growth

Not everyone welcomed my political shift. While my wife was surprisingly supportive—her anti-political intuitions had long outpaced mine—friends and family had mixed reactions. Some church members were curious but skeptical. Over time though, I have increasingly found my church and the broader Christian community is more open to having discussions about exploring the foundations of Christian political thought and the state, even if they don’t end up all the way at my conclusions.

As for the libertarian community I found, it was incredibly welcoming, fostering deep discussions that helped refine my views. The sense of camaraderie was refreshing, especially after feeling politically homeless for so long.

Faith and Liberty Intertwined

Today, I identify as a Christian first and foremost. I don’t like to view myself as an anarchist or libertarian, but rather as seeing those as philosophical disciplines that are the most compatible with the Biblical worldview. In political discussions, I might describe myself as a Christian libertarian, biblical anarchist, or simply a libertarian, depending on the context. My faith tradition has also deepened. While I’m not capital-R Reformed, I lean heavily on Reformed theology, but not exclusively. I am often drawing insights from popular thinkers like R.C. Sproul and N.T. Wright to more specialized Reformed figures like Kuyper, Dooyeweerd, and even early church fathers like Chrysostom and Athanasius.

Libertarianism led me to a deeper understanding of the Gospel and the true freedom and liberty we find in Jesus Christ. In turn, my deepened resolve in the Gospel of Jesus Christ strengthened my convictions to pursue peace and stand against injustice, always advocating for “the least of these.” While we await Jesus’ return, we continue to deal with the consequences of sin—but we know the state is not a solution to sin. Our best path forward is to maximize liberty and focus on spreading the Gospel to all people and nations.

Encouragement for Fellow Seekers

For Christians wrestling with political beliefs, my advice is simple: Don’t force Scripture to fit your politics, and also don’t ignore the Gospel’s political implications. Approach both your faith and your political journey with humility and curiosity.

Take time to study both Scripture and political philosophy. Read widely, question assumptions, and engage in honest dialogue. Seek out communities where respectful debate is encouraged, not shunned.

Libertarianism won’t answer every question—nor is it meant to. Instead, it offers a framework that champions peace, freedom, and human dignity—principles that align beautifully with the teachings of Christ. As we navigate this fallen world, let’s advocate for the least of these, stand against injustice, and, above all, live out and proclaim the radical love of Christ and His Kingdom.

If my journey resonates with you or sparks questions, I’d love to hear your story. Send us a note or reach out to me on social media—let’s continue this conversation together.

Live at peace! Live for Christ!

Source: https://libertarianchristians.com/2025/03/05/rediscovering-the-churchs-prophetic-mission-against-war-and-empire/