I Pledge Allegiance to….
Introduction
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been writing about Christian nationalism — how faith can get tangled up in politics until love of country starts replacing love of neighbor.
In earlier posts, I explored how democracy depends on virtues that faith also requires: humility, participation, and compassion. Then I looked at what happens when religion gets weaponized — when it blesses power instead of people.
Now, I want to ask one last question:
To what — or to whom — do we truly pledge our allegiance?
It’s a question that matters whether you consider yourself a person of faith or not. We all give our loyalty somewhere — to a nation, a party, a cause, or a way of life. The question is: what happens when that loyalty demands more than it should?
When the Pledge Becomes a Prayer
In Baptizing America, Brian Kaylor and Beau Underwood trace how small choices — like adding “under God” to the Pledge of Allegiance or printing “In God We Trust” on money — shaped American identity.
These weren’t born out of hatred or control. They came from a desire for shared values, for moral unity. But over time, they created what sociologists call civil religion — a blending of faith and patriotism that made political loyalty feel sacred.
Today, millions of children still start their school day with a hand over their heart, reciting words that shape how they see themselves and their country. It’s a ritual of belonging — but also one of power.
For people of faith, that creates tension. If loyalty to one flag means we forget our responsibility to the wider world, something has gone wrong.
And even for those who don’t share that faith, the question still stands:
When does patriotism stop building community and start creating exclusion?
When Allegiance Becomes Idolatry
Christian nationalism takes devotion — a word meant for the sacred — and applies it to politics. It teaches that being a “good citizen” and being a “good believer” are the same thing, and that God’s blessing belongs to one nation above all others.
But even beyond religious circles, that’s a dangerous idea. Because once we convince ourselves that our side, our culture, or our people are divinely favored, we stop listening. We stop learning. We stop loving.
As Kaylor puts it, this kind of thinking “violates fundamental commitments at the heart of the gospel” — commitments like dignity, equality, and love of neighbor.⁶ But you don’t have to be Christian to see the harm in any ideology that claims moral perfection for itself while excluding others.
Whether it’s religious or secular, any system that demands blind allegiance will eventually ask us to betray our humanity.
A Better Allegiance
If the pledge forms the imagination of the nation, love forms the imagination of a better world.
People of faith might call that the Kingdom of God — or, as I like to say, the Kin(g)dom of God — a community rooted not in hierarchy but in kinship. Others might describe it simply as the moral vision of a just society, one where everyone’s dignity matters and no one’s belonging depends on their passport.
Whatever language we use, the goal is the same: to build a world where love outweighs fear, and where the common good means everyone’s good.
That’s the allegiance worth pledging.
Practicing a Different Pledge
In my ministry context, we practice this kind of allegiance in small but intentional ways:
We preach Jesus as one who resisted empire, not served it.
He modeled love that defied borders and hierarchies — love that included everyone.
We learn our local history as a sacred story.
Every town carries stories of struggle and liberation. Knowing them helps us see how past injustices still echo — and how healing begins by remembering.
We offer invitations to change that are non-threatening.
No one’s heart is changed by shame. I try to create conversations that leave space for curiosity and growth.
Whether you’re in a church, a classroom, or a community meeting, those same practices hold: tell the truth, listen with compassion, and invite people to grow toward love rather than power.
What We Can All Do
Kaylor reminds us that we can’t just condemn unhealthy forms of allegiance — we have to replace them with better ones. Here’s what that might look like for any of us:
Pay attention to symbols. What do your rituals — civic, social, or spiritual — actually teach?
Practice curiosity instead of certainty. It’s hard to learn from people you’ve already labeled enemies.
Use your voice for the vulnerable. Patriotism rooted in compassion will always serve people over ideology.
Pray, meditate, or reflect on what guides your loyalty. Who or what has your heart?
Build community that transcends categories. We can’t heal the world by dividing it further.
The Pause That Changes Everything
I still sometimes say the Pledge of Allegiance. But these days, I pause between the words:
“I pledge allegiance to…”
And then I ask myself — to what, and to whom?
If I can answer truth, compassion, and love for all people, then I know my heart’s in the right place.
That pause has become a kind of prayer for me — not a rejection of my country, but a reminder of my priorities. My hope is that we can all find a pledge worth making that sets us free instead of binding us to fear.
That’s a pledge every human heart can share.
Bibliography
Atencio, Mitchell. “Are You Accidentally a Christian Nationalist?” Sojourners (The Reconstruct). June 17, 2024.
Garrett, Greg. “Politics, Faith, and Mission: A Conversation with Brian Kaylor.” Baptist News Global. September 3, 2024.
Kaylor, Brian, and Beau Underwood. Baptizing America: How Mainline Protestants Helped Build Christian Nationalism. St. Louis: Word&Way Books, 2024.
Palmer, Parker. Healing the Heart of Democracy. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2011.
Wright, N.T., and Michael F. Byrd. Jesus and the Powers. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2024.
In keeping with transparency, this post was developed with the help of AI editing tools. These tools support the creative process but do not replace human reflection, discernment, or authorship. All sources are fully cited, and all other content is my original work.
