Every four years, Christians are faced with the question of whether they can, in good conscience, vote for this presidential candidate or that. 

And every four years, pastors and other Christian thought leaders argue vehemently that you can’t be a Christian and vote for that candidate, while others argue that you can’t be a Christian and not vote for that candidate.

But do Christians even need to vote at all? 

Just look at the choices our two-party system has produced this election cycle. 

On the one side, we have a criminally convicted former president who has been adjudicated for fraud and sexual abuse, who regularly villainizes immigrants, and whose incessant lies have led to violence and political instability.

On the other, we have a party that spent a considerable portion of its convention celebrating abortion, whose policy positions on sexuality and gender include medical procedures for children that international studies have indicated are harmful, and whose record on issues of religious liberty is less than sterling. 

And while many American evangelicals have long contended that they must vote Republican because of abortion, they are quickly having to reckon with a party platform that, under the leadership of Donald Trump, is becoming more pro-choice by the day. 

So what are Christians to do? The way I see it, in the words of famed preacher Charles Spurgeon, “Of two evils, choose neither.”

But are Christians truly free from the obligation to hold their noses and vote for somebody—even if it’s a third party candidate? 

Dr. Albert Mohler, president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, doesn’t seem to think so. 

In an address given in 2022, Mohler said, “Every single election matters.”

“But every single election is followed by the next one,” he added. “And faithfulness now is absolutely necessary. And frankly, just given the temporality of life, we’ve got to give primary attention to faithfulness right now.”

“Votes matter,” Mohler said. “And we have a responsibility to make certain Christians understand the stewardship of the vote, which means the discipleship of the vote, which means the urgency of the vote, the treasure of the vote.”

Mohler continued, “And they need to understand that insofar as they do not vote or they vote wrongly, they are unfaithful. Because the vote is a powerful stewardship.” 

Given Mohler’s frequent political comments, it is not unreasonable to assume that what he means by voting “wrongly” is voting for anyone other than Donald Trump. So to Mohler’s mind, unless we vote and vote Republican, Christians are “unfaithful.”

Last month, Mohler said, “And so what we know about Donald Trump is a lot of mess. It’s a lot of mess. I am not going to deny that for a second.”

“But the reality is your vote still matters,” Mohler said. “Your vote is an act of conscience. Your vote is a revelation of conviction. Your vote is an image of character. It is very clearly your vote.”

Yea, verily.

“And that means that when we take responsibility to vote, we understand we’re not able to elect a perfect candidate, nowhere near. And that doesn’t mean they’re all the same either,” Mohler continued. “There are some qualitative issues…to be considered, but we’re electing a government and we’re electing policy and we’re electing a party as the organizing logic of that government, and that makes a huge difference. There is no way out.”

There is no way out? I don’t know about that. 

Mohler is repeating a long used argument that a Christian’s right to vote is a stewardship. Indeed, all of the resources and opportunities we have were given to us by God and ultimately belong to him—we are simply the stewards of them. 

That’s true enough. But what does that mean when it comes to how we steward our vote? 

Does failing to show up to the voting booth to pull the lever for the lesser of two evils reflect poor stewardship? Or can refraining from voting be its own form of stewardship? 

As Christians, we declare, “Jesus is Lord.” In the first century, this was a radically subversive thing to say. By declaring that Jesus is Lord, they were indicating that Caesar is not Lord. The Roman Empire was not their ultimate governing authority, but rather the Kingdom of God. 

While the early Christians lived and worked and operated within the structures of empire, the frame through which they saw the world was the Kingdom of God. So while they lived within the system, they operated with a value structure completely outside the system. 

Today, American Christians still live in the midst of an empire. To be sure, our situation is much improved from our first century brothers and sisters. We have freedom of religion, recognized basic human rights, and, yes, the right to vote. 

But America is not a Christian kingdom. We are still aliens and sojourners living within an earthly empire. So while we leverage our rights to maximize our impact for the gospel, the use of those rights serves our mission and not the other way around. 

In other words, I am not morally obligated to exercise any of my rights as an American citizen in any way other than to advance my calling as an ambassador for the gospel. (Nevertheless, I certainly can use my rights in other ways; for example, I can use my right to due process to contest a parking citation that I feel was wrongly given to me.)

The Apostle Paul is an excellent example of how Christians can use their citizenship for gospel purposes. Paul was a Roman citizen, a rare and privileged distinction in the empire of his day. So he had rights that other people simply didn’t. 

The only time we see Paul exercising his rights is when he is imprisoned. But he uses his right to appeal his case not primarily with the hope of being released, but rather so that he can gain a hearing with the highest authorities—and thereby the widest audience—so that he could simply and boldly proclaim the gospel of Jesus.

There might have been other times when Paul leveraged his rights as a citizen. We just don’t have any recorded examples of it. In any case, Paul didn’t seem to be under any moral obligation to use his rights as a Roman citizen in any specific way other than for what he saw as befitting to his role as a minister of the gospel. 

Paul wasn’t worried about being a good Roman citizen. In fact, his citizenship of an earthly empire meant very little to him. As he said in Philippians 3:20-21, “our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.”

Of note is the fact that Paul said these words as a Roman citizen speaking to a group of mostly Roman citizens (Philippi was a Roman colony and military town). But their shared Roman citizenship was entirely unimportant in light of their heavenly citizenship.

In the words of Dr. Preston Sprinkle, “‘the political task of Christians is to be the church,’ to embody an alternative way of life under the lordship of King Jesus.”

My point is this: We don’t owe the American civic system anything. As Christians, we are called to be good neighbors, to seek the prosperity of those around us (Jeremiah 29:7), to be salt and light (Matthew 5:13-16), to remember the poor (Galatians 2:10), to care for orphans and widow (James 1:27), and to honor everyone—including the emperor (1 Peter 2:17). 

Sometimes, seeking the good of those around us can involve voting in key elections and for specific referenda. But let’s be honest. I live in California. The state has gone for the Democratic presidential candidate in every election of my lifetime. My vote for president equates to little more than principled symbolism. 

Principles are always more important than pragmatism, but only when the principles to which we are referring are gospel principles and not tribal affiliation to a political party. 

While it is good and right and pure to use our American citizenship and existing political structures to further the common good according to God’s vision for the heavenly kingdom, sometimes we put too much stock in those political systems. Ultimately, they are hopeless. 

But we are not hopeless, because the frame through which we see the world is not the American project, but rather the Kingdom of God.

That doesn’t make us apathetic to the politics of our day—and certainly not to injustices perpetrated against the marginalized. But it does reframe our perspective and lower our temperature with regard any one political candidate or party platform. 

In Dr. Scot McKnight’s words, Christians are to function within the context of empire as “dissident disciples who discern corruptions in the world and church.” Whether we vote red, blue, or not at all, we must not be sold out to a side. Rather, we operate with a value structure that is outside the system entirely. 

FOR FURTHER READING 

“Exiles: The Church in the Shadow of Empire” by Preston Sprinkle
“Revelation for the Rest of Us: A Prophetic Call to Follow Jesus as a Dissident Disciple” by Scot McKnight
“Not in It to Win It: Why Choosing Sides Sidelines The Church” by Andy Stanley