This article is based on Part 3 of the excellent three-part series by Matthew J. Tuininga generically entitled Presbyterians and the Political Theology of Race, of which Parts 1 and 2 can be found here and here.
Tuininga’s original Part 3 entitled Presbyterians and the Political Theology of Race: Part 3 – Gospel Politics can be found here, and in it, he speaks ably to the Presbyterian Church in America’s specific history and theology. Of specific interest, though, I believe that Tuininga’s conclusions can, with some important modifications, bespeak to the history and theology of substantially all of conservative white evangelicalism during the same time period in U.S. history. Accordingly, this article borrows heavily from Tuininga’s Presbyterians and the Political Theology of Race: Part 3 – Gospel Politics, and quotes substantial portions thereof. Those portions appear in italics and quotation marks in this article. Where I diverge and apply Tuininga’s base arguments to draw different and distinctive theological conclusions regarding conservative white evangelicalism as a whole, I will no longer use italics or quotation marks to differentiate my writing from his. With that understanding, we will begin with an extensive quote from Tuininga’s Presbyterians and the Political Theology of Race: Part 3 – Gospel Politics, as follows:
At the time the vast majority of conservative southern Presbyterians dismissed King’s rhetoric as yet another manifestation of the liberal Social Gospel that was dragging the mainline churches away from confessional orthodoxy. Committed to their doctrine of the spirituality of the church [Editor’s note: See more about the corrupt “spirituality of the church” doctrine here and here], southern Presbyterians were confident that while the Gospel required them to love their black brothers and sisters, and even to maintain spiritual unity with them, it did not require them to embrace these neighbors socially or politically. A good number of them, on the contrary, believed that such an embrace would lead to sexual amalgamation in violation of God’s natural moral law. As I demonstrated in Part 2 of this series, they were convinced that the Old Testament confirmed this belief.
King accepted the most basic tenants about the authority of God’s natural moral law. Indeed, he appealed to the great theologians who first articulated the set of distinctions between the moral, civil, and ceremonial law on which those tenants were based. In explaining when civil disobedience is and is not justified, King invoked Augustine’s distinction between just and unjust laws, including the tenant that “An unjust law is no law at all.” How might one determine whether or not a particular law is just? “A just law is a man-made code that squares with the moral law or the law of God. An unjust law is a code that is out of harmony with the moral law. To put it in the terms of Saint Thomas Aquinas, an unjust law is a human law that is not rooted in eternal and natural law.”
With all of this King’s southern Presbyterian critics would have readily agreed, as it comported nicely with the teachings of the Westminster Confession of Faith. But whereas conservative southern Presbyterians tended to interpret the relevance of God’s natural moral law for society and politics through the prism of the Old Testament, King interpreted it in light of what he understood to be the meaning of the Gospel for the dignity of the individual human being: “Any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust. All segregation statutes are unjust because segregation distorts the soul and damages the personality… Isn’t segregation an existential expression of man’s tragic separation, an expression of his awful estrangement, his terrible sinfulness?”
All of this might sound awfully abstract – and suspiciously liberal – in the ears of a conservative evangelical. King did, after all, cite Paul Tillich when offering his definition of sin, and his language about human personality came from the personalist school of thought that was preeminent at Boston University, from which King had received his Ph.D. Yet as Rufus Burrow, Jr. argues, King did not come to believe in the dignity of human beings through his academic study of personalism, but through his evangelical upbringing in Atlanta’s Ebenezer Baptist Church. His fundamentalist parents – his father was Ebenezer’s pastor – emphasized that human beings have infinite worth because they are made in the image of God and they are the children of a loving God. As King put it, “The worth of an individual … does not lie in the measure of his intellect, his racial origin, or his social position. Human worth lies in relatedness to God. An individual has value because he has value to God.”
For King, however, it is the Gospel of Christ that demonstrates how much human beings are loved and valued by God. It is the love of Christ that informs the moral order according to which God governs the universe, and which he calls human beings to imitate. King’s understanding of the moral law was informed not primarily by Old Testament shadows, therefore, but by its New Testament fulfillment in the love of Christ. His social vision centered not on the Tower of Babel or the separation of Israel from the nations, but on the beloved community established in Christ. This meant that it emphasized inclusion rather than exclusion. “When we love on the agape level, we love men not because we like them, not because their attitudes and ways appeal to us, but because God loves them.” It is this sort of love, according to King, that should inform and characterize our social and political engagement.
It is important to stress that King was no utopian idealist. He wholeheartedly embraced Reinhold Niebuhr’s critique of the liberal social gospel, with its insistence on the pervasive sinfulness of human beings. It was precisely King’s realism about human nature, and about what should be expected from social and political structures, that persuaded him of the need for prophetic activism on behalf of justice. Justice wasn’t going to come about by itself. Segregationists would not suddenly be persuaded to give up their power and treat black people fairly by spiritual appeals to love. Civil rights activists had to work through the creative tension of civil disobedience to bring about coercive legal and political change. Thus the Gospel had to inform the goals and methods of political activism (love and nonviolence). Matthew J. Tuininga
This is where I begin to diverge in my analysis with Tuininga, for he stated that “Thus the Gospel had to inform the goals and methods of political activism (love and nonviolence), but it could not be conflated with such activism or its accomplishments.” In my view, however, King made no such distinction, nor is one necessary between the Gospel and the necessary methods of “working out his salvation with fear and trembling,” (Philippians 2:12) as the Gospel instructs all Christ followers to do. Just as “faith without works is dead,” (James 2:17-20) so salvation without using the necessary tools to work it out, or to “prove what is that good and perfect will of God,” (Romans 2:12) would come up empty handed. Just as a knife and fork are necessary to eat a steak and a tire iron is necessary to change a tire, so King knew that nonviolent direct action was necessary to accomplish the object he prayed for, the improvement of conditions for the Black community in America. Just as scripture says “the belly for meats and meats for the belly,” the two are inseparable in function, and both are necessary to achieve the utility for which they coexist.
Therefore, I find Tuininga’s persuasion that the Gospel “could not be conflated with such activism or its achievements” to be attacking a hermeneutical strawman. To construct a differentiation that is not in Scripture between the Gospel and nonviolent direct action followed by improvement in conditions would be akin to drawing needless distinctions between food, digestion and a nourished body – they coexist one for another. The latter (a nourished body) could not occur without the former (food and digestion); nor would the former be useful in the least without the latter. Further, the risks of such a construct is akin to the argument that the authors of the 2019 Statement on Social Justice & the Gospel make that social justice (justice for all) is dangerous to the gospel. That argument is the progeny of 19th century slaveholder religion and 20th century Jim Crow theology (in particular, the corrupted doctrine of “the spirituality of the church.” We must not feed off of the dregs of those eisegetical and hermeneutically corrupted theologies, lest we become what we eat.
Indeed, King knew that Isaiah 1:17 instructed believers to “Learn to do good. Seek justice. Stop the Oppressor,” that Hebrews 13:3 instructs believers to “Remember those who are mistreated, since you yourselves also are in the body,” and 1 Corinthians 12:25-26 informs the working out of our salvation, viz: “so that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it.”
In accordance with this uncorrupted theology, in his Letter From Birmingham Jail, King said “I am in Birmingham because injustice is here. Just as the prophets of the eighth century B.C. left their villages and carried their “thus saith the Lord” far beyond the boundaries of their home towns, and just as the Apostle Paul left his village of Tarsus and carried the gospel of Jesus Christ to the far corners of the Greco Roman world, so am I compelled to carry the gospel of freedom beyond my own home town. Like Paul, I must constantly respond to the Macedonian call for aid.”
“Moreover,” as all members should have the same care one for another, he said, “I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities and states. I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”
There is no shaky theology here — it is drawn directly from Emanuel’s veins, strait out of His Scripture, without adulteration or machination.
Dr. King was a highly educated man, as is clearly evident from the many erudite sermons published in his book Strength to Love in 1963. He entered Morehouse College at age 15, and was the son and grandson of accomplished Baptist ministers. He became the president of the student body at Crozer Theological Seminary, and earned his PhD from Boston University in 1955. He became the first president of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), and on October 14, 1964, King was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for combating racial inequality through nonviolent resistance. He studied and assimilated his theology both directly from Scripture and from studying eminent, socially-aware theologians of his day. His theology was by no means half-baked – nor was the way in which he applied it. So unlike Tuininga, I can and do affirmatively defend King’s theology as a whole, and I suggest that King provides an excellent and successful model for pastors wrestling with the appropriate level of civic engagement in the continuing struggle for Black equity in America. We may or may not need nonviolent direct action or civil disobedience in the continuing struggle. Certainly, as in Charlottesville in 2017, there are, unfortunately, still likely to be times when nonviolent direct action to counter extreme and violent white supremacist actions may again be necessary. In addition, in the struggle for an end to the carceral state, race-based mass incarceration and systemic inequities in resource distribution and tax policy (to name a few), nonviolent direct action and civil disobedience may again be helpful tools to move the conscience of the nation toward equity for Black and Brown people and the poor and middle class in general. Certainly, nonviolent direct action was theologically approved for white people during the Boston Tea Party for the purpose of tax equity and fair representation — so one could ask why is it considered by proponents of New Jim Crow theology to be inappropriate for Black, Brown, and today’s poor and middle class people to do the same if conditions require? Certainly, as anybody who was in Emancipation Park in Charlottesville on August 11 and 12, 2017 can attest, nonviolent direct action is not without physical risks, up to and including death. So it is not for everybody – but there are many roles short of being on the front lines where physical danger is possible that are necessary to support such actions. But for those led by scriptural precepts to engage in nonviolent direct action or civil disobedience when conditions require, there are no biblical injunction against them (remember Moses, Jericho, Rahab and Jesus himself) – but rather, an injunction to “seek justice and stop the oppressor.” Indeed, Moses and Aaron were commanded by the LORD to nonviolent direct action to free the enslaved Hebrews, and He guided their actions every step of the way. I suggest the same was true of Dr. King and other leaders of the SCLC
I also disagree with Tuininga’s assertion that “With respect to the latter, there is no question that King’s degree of activism became the inspiration for a generation of clergy activists of both the left and the right, and while King’s own impact was decisively salutary, the political activism of those who followed him has often been much less so. There are reasons for that, beyond the scope of this essay, and they tend to support the claim that pastors should focus on preaching and teaching the word of Christ rather than on leading political campaigns.” I can think of no case where Dr. King’s activism, inspired by Scripture, became the inspiration for clergy activists on “the right,” or where any such nonviolent direct actions were mounted by clergy on the right. Certainly, Tuininga provides none. I also find it objectionable to say that the political activism of those who followed Dr. King has often been much less salutary. Our judgments of other nonviolent direct actions for Black equity must be grounded in scholarly hindsight, not the emotions or myths based on fear and perpetrated by the white community of the day. As careful theologians and lay people, we must be careful to adjudge the nonviolent direct actions of organizations like the original Black Panthers Party and Black Lives Matter based on temperate and non-politicized criteria, and through an empathetic theological lens, as if we ourselves “are also in the body,” (Hebrews 13:3).
Having said that, I do agree that the political activism of those pastors within conservative white evangelicalism, particularly as such activism has resulted in a voting block that equates white nationalism with God’s word and has become a weaponized vehicle for use by a political party for election purposes and against the interests of minority groups and the poor is “less salutary” – but then again, that movement is NOT based on the model or morality of that employed by Dr. King. Further, there is no theological or practical moral equivalence between the two. Only if Tuininga had this application in mind could I agree with him in this premise.
Tuininga went on to say “My concern, however, is to encourage evangelicals to wrestle with King’s determination to allow the Gospel to shape Christians’ civic and political engagement. To be sure, we must take care not to conflate the two. King himself did often conflate the kingdom of Christ and temporal politics in his rhetoric, I believe, as did the broader trajectory of mainline clerical activism that took its inspiration from him in following decades. We cannot use political means to establish the kingdom of God, nor should we confuse the liberation that comes through Christ with the justice that can be accomplished through politics.” Here again, I disagree with Tuininga’s theological bent and assertions. As argued previously, I do not believe that it is an accurate seating of King’s theology or its outworking to say “we must take care not to conflate the two,” as “King himself did often conflate the kingdom of Christ and temporal politics in his rhetoric,” “as did the broader trajectory of mainline clerical activism that took its inspiration from him in following decades.” Such theological error is not only not supported by any posited or credible facts or by credible scriptural exegesis, but is exactly the same argument that today’s progenitors of New Jim Crow theology have made in their Statement on Social Justice & the Gospel, as countered here and here.
The remainder of Tuininga’s essay is reproduced below, with Editor’s notes provided by me when necessary to clarify or identify any theological issues with which we disagree:
How should the Gospel shape our political engagement? It seems to me that at the very least, the Gospel calls us to interpret the demands of God’s natural moral law and its implications for society not through the lens of the Tower of Babel or of Old Testament Israel but through the lens of the one who fulfilled the law perfectly, and to whom, if the epistles of Peter and Paul tell us anything, we are called to be conformed even in our social and political relationships. Embracing the call to be conformed to the image of Christ means not that we parade around trumpeting the lordship of Christ, but that, like Christ, we take up the form of a servant, humbling ourselves if necessary even to the cross. Thus we fulfill the law not by enforcing its every jot and tittle at the point of the sword, excluding from the political community those who refuse to tow the cultural, moral or religious line, but by loving and serving those with whom God has placed us in community, paying particular attention to the needs of the poor and the weak, the marginalized and the oppressed.
Yes, we are called to [Editors note:
participate in [submit to] the administration of a [Godly] sword-bearing government, restraining the worst offenses against [Godly criminal] justice that threaten to undermine our communities [as well as to promote a positive Godly justice that brings equity into the downtrodden parts of our communities] . But this is a call that we share even with those with whom we profoundly disagree, and therefore one that we must fulfill in a manner that includes our fellow citizens rather than excludes them. What justice requires in terms of practical policy for varying times and circumstances will always be a matter for dispute, but our arguments should be as characterized by humility and respect as they are by conviction and determination. Our goal is not to establish a Christian America, let alone a new Israel, but to witness to Christ by promoting policies that ensure peace and justice for all of our neighbors, not only those who are most like us or with whom w e most agree.
To stress that the Gospel calls us to the politics of inclusion is not to abandon political realism for lofty idealism. As I have tried to show in this series, the very issue at stake in the theological disputes over segregation was whether or not the New Testament, with its emphasis on the unity of all peoples in Christ, required that white people accept black people into their churches and communities on a level of equality. Simply put, does Pentecost have anything to do with our politics? King said yes, and far too many southern Presbyterians said no. But what do we think today?
As confessing evangelicals we cannot afford to abandon our witness to the Gospel when we enter the realm of politics. It is true that our social engagement must seek the ends of the moral law, but we must remember that it is Christ who reveals and fulfills the moral law in its substance, and it is to his image, including his manner of life as a servant, that we are called to conform. It is true that the Gospel does not [Editor’s note:
immediately [ever] erase all distinctions of nation, gender, or economic status [Editor’s note: the Gospel is not “color blind,” but celebrate’s God’s diversity in human creation, ethnicities and cultures], but it is equally true that the unity of all things in Christ does call for the rejection of their unjust abuses [Editor’s note: and celebration of their differences]. It is true that we must be realistic about what can be achieved through politics [Editor’s note: a great deal – e.g., the Civil Rights, Voting Rights and Fair Housing Acts], but our realism should lead us to champion the weak rather than the strong who oppress them under the cover of law. It is true that we may not be silent about what God’s Word teaches, even when it comes to such controversial matters as human sexuality [Editor’s note: but here, we must be very careful to speak on only what we have done a thorough and unbiased exegesis on, and if we have not, we should remain silent, so as to not speak ignorantly or to bring trauma to our hearers, as has been ubiquitous in evangelical teaching in this age of mass-media], but it is equally true that our judgment regarding how God’s will should take expression in politics is fallible, that we must learn to love, serve and work with fellow citizens who disagree with us, and that our public rhetoric is only Christian if it is infused with the grace [Editor’s note: and truth] of Christ. Finally, [Editor’s note: Christian Scripture teaches that] it is true that salvation only comes to those who place their faith in Christ, and about that we must always be clear, but it is equally true that as believers we are called to embody that salvation socially by bearing one another’s burdens, forgiving one another’s transgressions, and caring for one another’s needs. Matthew J. Tuininga
Matthew J. Tuininga teaches politics and core studies at Oglethorpe University in Atlanta, Georgia, and was recently appointed assistant professor of moral theology at Calvin Theological Seminary in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He is a licensed exhorter in the United Reformed Churches of North America and he blogs atmatthewtuininga.wordpress.com
 Martin Luther King Jr., “Letter From a Birmingham Jail,” in I Have a Dream: Writings and Speeches That Changed the World (ed. James M. Washington; New York: Harper Collins, 1992), p.96.
 King, “Letter From a Birmingham Jail,” p.89
 King, “Letter From a Birmingham Jail,” p.89
 Rufus Burrow Jr., “Personalism, the Objective Moral Order, and Moral Law in the Work of Martin Luther King, Jr.,” in The Legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr.: The Boundaries of Law, Politics, and Religion (ed. Lewis V. Baldwin; Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2002), pp.213-228.
 Burrow, “Personalism, the Objective Moral Order,” p. 222.
 Burrow, “Personalism, the Objective Moral Order,” p.236.