The Church as Buffer

American society is unusual for many reasons. But one stands out as particularly significant and relevant for this cultural moment.

For the past 200 years or so “non-profits” have functioned as a buffer between the individual and the state. Once called “voluntary societies,” these institutions—both small and large—have served the common good of society, uniting diverse peoples, building community, and meeting practical needs.

Sociologists call them “mediating” institutions because they mediate between government and citizen. They function primarily at the local level, and they depend almost exclusively on volunteers and donations. They restrain selfishness and help citizens live responsibly, taking into account the needs and interests of others.

Non-profits thus lower what people expect of government and its agencies. They also mitigate divisiveness and disagreement. Instead, they empower people to build coalitions and solve practical problems.

The church is and has always served as one of the primary non-profit organizations in America. As you well know, churches exist everywhere, from rural to urban. There are over 300,000 of them! A large minority of Americans still attend them. They offer all manner of services, which benefit both members and non-members alike. Daycare centers come to mind as one good example.

But churches provide another service, too. They inspire and equip members to devote resources—time, money, education, skill, expertise—to a large number of community organizations and professional endeavors, deploying a work force of millions to do the work of God at the local level. All told, the quantity of hours and dollars is incalculable.

I mention this for a reason. Social scientists are observing that mediating institutions across America are suffering precipitous decline, even though as late as the 1970s they still flourished.

This decline has contributed to an increase in depression, anxiety, loneliness, alienation, and instability. People feel vulnerable, their lives seem fragile. They lack a sense of belonging. Many live close to the edge.

It has also contributed to the growing gap between rich and poor, educated and uneducated, privileged and deprived.

Two consequences follow: the emergence of a nagging hopelessness, and a deep-seated resentment. The “American dream” is waning. The prospect for a stable and prosperous life—a good job, a livable wage, affordable housing, safe neighborhoods, dependable health care, a few pleasures in life—are fading.

In the absence of mediating institutions, like the church, people drag their needs and resentments into the political sphere, and they look for quick, easy—and often unrealistic—solutions. Politicians are happy to oblige, often angling for power, exploiting resentment, and promising false hope.

As a result, our political climate has become increasingly charged, vicious, and partisan. We have turned politics into a religion. Even more dangerously, we have covered it over with a Christian veneer, which gives the impression that our politics is unequivocably Christian.

A candidate running for governor of a swing state recently claimed that President Biden is “demon-possessed.”

Not wrong, but demon-possessed.

If an opponent is wrong, politicians use reason and argument to prove their point. If an opponent is demon-possessed, they use power to overcome and destroy. Reason becomes unnecessary. So does charity and humility. Victory is the only acceptable option, no matter what the price.

If we believe God is on our side and the opponent is on the devil’s side, we can justify almost any measure we take to get our way because we assume it is God’s will.

A robust Christian faith will moderate what we expect of government.

A robust Christian faith will not moderate what we expect of God, nor of ourselves, nor of the church.

In short, we must always make a distinction between the kingdom and all human institutions, especially the state.

Our politics cannot become our religion. Never. We commit ourselves first and foremost to God, not to the state. We invest in our local institutions, including the local church, expecting the most from them and giving the most to them. We conduct ourselves with grace and dignity in the public sphere. We demonstrate charity when we achieve victory, and we demonstrate humility when we lose. Our ultimate allegiance is to the kingdom of God, not to ideology, platform, party, and person.

If the church fails to function as a buffer between state and individual, we will expect and demand from the political order what it cannot give, though we will try to force it anyway, and thus turn it into something monstrous. Ironically, our Christian faith, then so compromised, will destroy the very nation we wish to strengthen. Perverting the faith to save the nation, we will end up losing both.