We Watched for Jihadists — But Ignored the Christian Nationalists
The Christian analogue to Islamist jihadism has the same tendency for violence as its counterpart.
When discussing Christian nationalism, many conservative Christians react with evangelical fragility—an instinctive, emotionally fragile response when faced with the truth that, if taken to their logical conclusion, their dominionist beliefs about the role of religion in society can become dangerous to national security and the political order.
This fragility shows up among many who are theologically conservative when the question of Christian nationalism being as dangerous as jihadism is brought up.
They resort to ad hominem attacks against those warning about Christian nationalism. Like many Islamists who try to deflect scrutiny by calling it Islamophobic, those with evangelical fragility portray valid criticism of Christian nationalism as anti-Christian persecution, and prolifically strawman.
Whether these theologically conservative friends of ours like it or not, both empirically and logically, Christian nationalism has proven to be harmful to the political order and national security of the United States.
The most notable case was President Trump’s unsuccessful January 6, 2021 insurrection, where participants, carrying crosses, "Appeal to Heaven" flags, and banners like "Jesus is my Savior, Trump is my President,” aimed to overthrow the U.S. government and harm then Vice President Mike Pence and then Democratic House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, some of the rioters feeling justified by self-proclaimed prophets Kenneth Copeland, Paula Cain-White, and Kevin Zadai, who 'prophesied' that the results were stolen from Trump and/or that the election would be overturned.
A recent case involved former Charismatic preacher Vance Boelter, known for his attacks on homosexuality, who had allegedly assassinated Democratic Minnesota State Senator John A. Hoffman and Democratic Minnesota State Representative Melissa Hortman, along with their spouses. This move conveniently shifted the state House to a Republican majority.
The leaven of Christian nationalism has transcended violent upheavals into corrupting regular Christian discourse with racialism and violent dominionism, despite many theological conservatives casting Christian nationalists as an extreme fringe.
Examples include The Case for Christian Nationalism author Stephen Wolfe casting interracial relationships as “sinful relatively and absolutely,” and Pastor Joel Webbon of Right Response Ministries calling anti-Semite and far-right polemicist Nick Fuentes as being “right.”
Since 9/11, far-right extremists, a category frequently animated by Christian nationalist ideology, have been responsible for the substantial majority of terrorist plots and attacks in the United States, according to a CSIS analysis of 893 incidents from 1994 to May 2020.
The data shows these perpetrators committed 57% of all terrorist attacks and plots during this period, far outpacing the 25% from left-wing extremists. This threat has accelerated dramatically, with right-wing extremists responsible for two-thirds of attacks in 2019 and over 90% in the first five months of 2020.
Christian nationalism isn't just rhetorically dangerous; it has also caused significant physical harm and, very much like radical Islamism than Christian nationalists would like to admit, has the potential for much more regardless of the content of the Christian religion.
In many ways, it is a heresy rooted more in rage-driven interpretations of biblical truths than in pure religious orthodoxy.
WATCH: Theologian John MacArthur debunks Christian nationalism from a conservative theological perspective
What is Christian nationalism, and how does it differ from Christians exercising their legitimate democratic rights at the ballot box and through political lobbying? Why is it really a threat?
According to Stephen Wolfe, author of The Case for Christian Nationalism, the ideology is a comprehensive program where a nation that identifies as Christian directs its laws and social norms to achieve both material and spiritual benefits for its people, all through a Christian lens.
It sounds beautiful on the surface to those who are religiously inclined, but like with deconstructing all extremists, one must read between the lines and the coded language to understand the underlying message.
Christian nationalism is a reactionary political theology that conflates American identity with a mythologized version of Christianity, seeking to restore a lost national greatness that never truly existed—what Paul D. Miller identifies as a form of idolatrous civic religion masquerading as orthodoxy.
As Chris Hedges warns in American Fascists, it shares features with fascist movements by sanctifying authoritarianism, masculinity, and violence in the name of divine destiny.
Indeed, Christian nationalism mirrors several of Italian philosopher Umberto Eco’s fourteen features of proto fascism, or as he calls it, Ur-Fascism: it cultivates a cult of tradition, promotes a fear of difference, and exalts a mythic past through selective memory and ahistorical narratives.
It embraces a form of syncretic populism where religious symbols are co-opted into a political project, replacing theological orthodoxy with slogans and spectacle to fuel perpetual mobilization against internal enemies.
Tobias Cremer describes it as a "godless crusade"—less a religious revival than a cultural backlash that strips Christianity of its redemptive message and weaponizes it as a tribal marker.
Kristine Kobes Du Mez in Jesus and John Wayne argues that it remakes Jesus into a rugged, militaristic warrior figure—more John Wayne than Prince of Peace—while erasing the humility and compassion central to the Gospel.
Like every popular Christian fad, it rewrites biblical history and doctrine in pursuit of imagined "biblical roots," crafting a Jesus who blesses power, exclusion, and vengeance over love, justice, and grace.
This differs fundamentally from Christians exercising their legitimate democratic rights. While Christian citizens may vote or lobby based on their faith-informed values within a pluralistic society, Christian nationalism seeks to dismantle that pluralism. Its goal is to establish a theocratic system where an authoritarian, fiery brand of Christianity holds dominion over all aspects of society, from government to education, effectively erasing the separation between church and state.
Christian nationalism apologist Stephen Wolfe, in his own words, aptly characterizes the rallying call of Christian nationalists: “[W]e ought to make secularist and non-Christian positions the exceptions—let the atheists request the exemption.”
The ideology is dangerous precisely because it reframes political objectives as a divine mission, a "Spiritual Warfare" against evil, as Hedges discusses in American Fascists. This rhetorical framing makes people do things they otherwise would not by transforming political opponents into demonic forces and opposition into a rebellion against God. Furthermore, by labeling opposition and dissent as demonic, Christian nationalists dehumanize their opponents, therefore sanctioning violence against detractors in the name of wrestling against “principalities” and “not flesh and blood.”
Christian nationalism largely subscribes to dominionist eschatology that calls for the application of Christian principles, particularly biblical law, in governing society by capturing ‘seven mountains’ of society: family, religion, education, media, entertainment, business, and government.
As noble as dominionism sounds, it cannot reach its goals without violence and statist subjugation of individuals, much like how the Islamic State needed violence to create a caliphate in Iraq and Syria.
This eschatology provides the theological architecture for subjugating individual liberty, as the perceived divine mandate to rule overrides any commitment to pluralism or democratic consent. To conquer and hold these "mountains" requires not persuasion but power, transforming the political process into a holy war where dissent is viewed as rebellion and compromise is seen as surrender.
Psychologically, the allure of Christian nationalism is its unique capacity to accommodate and sanctify violence. It provides a divine justification for what would otherwise be considered antisocial or psychopathic behavior, reframing violent impulses as righteous actions in a holy cause.
By identifying scapegoats—from immigrants equated to "foreign occupiers" to LGBTQ+ individuals representing "strongholds of evil"—it channels aggression toward sanctioned targets, making violence seem not only permissible but necessary to defend national morality.
For individuals with latent psychopathic or violent tendencies, the movement is a powerful magnet, much like ISIS was for figures like Zarqawi.
Christian nationalism doesn't require them to be healed of their aggression or lack of empathy; instead, it legitimizes their disorder by providing a holy war to fight.
This transforms their violent impulses into a sense of righteous purpose, providing them with a distorted feeling of accomplishment as they police others in the name of God.
The structural parallels to a group like ISIS are undeniable. ISIS sought to establish a physical caliphate governed by its radical interpretation of religious law. Christian nationalism seeks a similar end: a de facto American caliphate where the "seven mountains" of society are conquered and subjected to a narrow, authoritarian interpretation of biblical law. Both movements are fundamentally opposed to pluralism and secular democracy, viewing them as obstacles to a divinely ordained state. The goal is not to participate in the existing order, but to replace it entirely with a theocracy.
This similarity extends to their methods of radicalization. Both ISIS and Christian nationalist movements offer a powerful narrative of grievance, divine destiny, and heroic struggle to those who feel alienated or powerless. ISIS propaganda glorified violence against infidels, and Christian nationalism cultivates a "militant masculinity" and a "warrior ethos" to be waged against "demonic" political opponents. Both ideologies provide a theological license for violence, transforming a disturbed individual's desire for power and aggression into a sacred duty. In both cases, a holy war becomes the vehicle for personal pathology.
The critical error in assessing the danger of Christian nationalism is to measure it only by acts of manifest violence. The more profound threat lies in its vast reserves of latent violence, which must be considered the primary metric of its danger, even when widespread physical conflict is not yet apparent.
Latent violence is the stored potential for future harm, methodically embedded in an ideology’s worldview. It is the theological and psychological groundwork that prepares a community to accept and eventually commit violence by reframing it as a righteous and necessary option.
Christian nationalist leaders build the pipeline for this violence to erupt eventually. Incrementally and gradually, they achieve this through the constant misquoting and reinterpretation of scripture.
The figure of Jesus is slowly remolded from the Prince of Peace into a militaristic warrior who justifies aggression. Each sermon, podcast, and social media post that pushes these interpretations is another step in conditioning followers, eroding the moral and theological barriers to violence.
Therefore, a lack of daily physical attacks does not signify safety; it signifies that the immense potential for violence is still building, waiting for a leader to declare that the time for action has come.
Confronting this threat requires a multi-faceted approach.
First, federal and state law enforcement must reorient their counter-terrorism priorities to reflect the data, recognizing that the most lethal threats are now domestic and often animated by this ideology. This means allocating intelligence and preventative resources accordingly.
Second, theologically conservative faith leaders, particularly within the evangelical community, must find the courage to overcome their fragility and confront this heresy from the pulpit and in the pews. They must clearly and consistently teach the difference between Christian civic engagement in a pluralist society and the idolatrous political project of Christian nationalism. To remain silent is to be complicit.
Finally, citizens must be equipped to recognize the language of Christian nationalism and reject its attempts to fuse political loyalty with divine mandate. Defending American democracy requires a renewed commitment to the separation of church and state—not as an attack on faith, but as the essential guardrail that protects both.
The United States spent two decades building a security apparatus to counter foreign zealots, all while a domestic strain of the same ideology metastasized at home.
Christian nationalism is not Christianity; it is a political heresy that cloaks itself in faith to justify a lust for power and a thirst for authoritarian control. Ignoring it will not make it go away. It is a clear and present danger to the soul of the nation and the foundations of the republic, and Americans will continue to ignore it at their own peril.
About the Author
Andrew Jose is a Florida-based news reporter who has extensively worked with conservative media. He is the editor of Strategic Wisdom His work has been published in Daily Caller, The Western Journal, and Jewish News Syndicate. Andrew has regularly covered religious extremism, counterinsurgency, and homeland security.
Andrew is a PhD in Political Science student at the University of Florida. He received his Master of Arts in Security Policy Studies from The George Washington University Elliott School of International Affairs and his Bachelor's in Foreign Service from Georgetown University's School of Foreign Service in Qatar.