David French is Wrong About Christian Power
On December 22, 2024, New York Times columnist David French used his column on the last Sunday before Christmas to smear his fellow Christians. The article was titled, “Why Are So Many Christians So Cruel?,” and I almost skipped it lest it ruin my Christmas spirit. But I indulged my inner Scrooge and read it anyway, and I came away with an attitude that was something close to the curmudgeon’s famous line from A Christmas Carol, muttering to my wife and children and everyone within earshot, “If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with ‘David French’ on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!”
Still, before addressing the column’s errors, it’s important to note where I agree with French: Christians can sometimes be cruel, and we should not be. When we are cruel, we should repent of our cruelty, confess our sin, do the work of reconciliation, and begin walking in obedience and love.
In his article, French says that Christians are often cruel because we fall prey to the temptation of believing “that the faithful, those who possess eternal truth, are entitled to rule. Under this construct, might make right, and right deserves might.” Believing that right deserves might, French says, means that “your own will to power is sanctified.”
In addition to some practical objections, French offers a theological objection to the Christian use of power, writing that “Jesus rejected it, in word and in deed.” The crucifixion was the ultimate example of this rejection of power, he says, because in it “right yielded to might.”
French’s argument culminates in this statement from his closing paragraphs:
“We love rags-to-riches stories, for example, so if many of us were writing Christ’s story, we might begin with a manger, but we’d end with a throne.
“But Christ’s life began in a manger, and it ended on a cross.”
The trouble is, this isn’t true. Contrary to French’s claim, Jesus’ life began in a manger, and it ends — rather, continues — on an eternal throne. This strikes me as such an obvious statement, such a central element of Christian belief, that it almost needs no defense, but I will briefly offer one anyway.
First, we know from scripture that Jesus is alive (Matthew 28:5–7; Hebrews 7:25; Revelation 1:18), that he joined God the Father on his throne (Revelation 3:21), and that he is currently seated at the right hand of God (Hebrews 1:3, 12:2; Colossians 3:1–2). The cross was not the end, then, but something Jesus endured on the way to his heavenly throne (Hebrews 12:2); the cross was a means to a glorious and potent end.
And second, the whole church testifies to the living, enthroned Christ. We have the familiar words of the Apostles’ Creed, which tells us, yes, that Jesus “was crucified, dead, and buried.” But the creed (and French certainly knows the creed) also insists that Christ’s life doesn’t end there. On the contrary, he rose again and “ascended into heaven and sits at the right hand of God the Father almighty.”
I think, too, of the final Sunday in the church calendar, which celebrates the Feast of Christ the King. Each year the church rehearses the humility of the incarnation in a manger and the suffering of Holy Week and the crucifixion and death on the cross — but the whole story told and retold through the Christian year culminates in honor of Christ the King. The whole calendar points to the Christ who rules from a throne.
To be fair, French does mention the resurrection and ascension, writing, “When Jesus did triumph, he didn’t triumph over Caesar. He triumphed over death itself. When he ascended into heaven after his resurrection, he left earth with Caesar still on the throne.”
But limiting Jesus’ authority to some sort of heavenly or spiritual realm — he reigns over death or sin or Satan or the church or the private hearts of believers — with little or no public impact in this world is contrary to much of scripture. In the Bible, we read that Jesus is Lord of all (Acts 10:36, Romans 10:12). He is Lord of all the earth (Joshua 3:11,13; Psalm 97:5; Zechariah 6:5). All authority on earth has been given to him (Matthew 28:18). All things have been handed over to him by the Father (Matthew 11:27), who has given all things into his hands (John 3:35, 13:3). Jesus has been given authority over all flesh (John 17:2), and all things have been put in subjection under his feet (1 Corinthians 15:27; Hebrews 2:8). He is above all rule and authority and power and dominion (Ephesians 1:20). All the nations belong to him (Psalm 82:8; 2:8). He was given dominion, glory, and kingship, that the people of every nation should serve him (Daniel 7:14). These are not the traits of French’s Christ who wholly rejected power, but of the biblical Christ who currently holds it, and who holds it absolutely.
Even French’s assertion that Christ did not triumph over Caesar is wrong. In reality, Christ did triumph over Caesar some 300 years after dying and rising again, when Constantine the Great bent the knee to Christ and Christianity became the religion of Rome. If that’s not overcoming Caesar’s throne, I don’t know what is! That this happened in history through the work of the body of Christ (the church) rather than directly by Christ the Head further undermines French’s point: It is through his body that Christ expands his earthly rule and reign.
I have no doubt that French and I would disagree about the practical implications of Christ’s current reign, but I do hope that we could agree on one thing: The fact that Christ holds power means, at the very least, that holding power is not un-Christian.
Of course, as mentioned at the beginning of this piece, Christians must exercise power without cruelty. In his article, French writes that following Jesus “forecloses cruelty. It requires compassion.” And all God’s people said, “Yes, of course.” But even in this agreement, I would point to a different justification than French does. He grounds his argument in the example of Christ’s powerlessness, but he entirely neglects the example of Christ’s power. We should look to Jesus’ life as an example, and that example certainly includes his humility, suffering, and death — but it also means following the example of his rule and reign in power as king. When we suffer, we should suffer as Christians and in imitation of Christ’s own suffering. It’s equally true that when we wield power, we should wield power as Christians and in imitation of Christ’s own power.
To sum up, the truth that Jesus’ life ends in power on a throne instead of in humility on the cross works against the perspective French offers. Despite a brief nod to the ascension, French’s argument against the Christian use of power stops before Christ’s resurrection, ascension, glorification, and present reign; it’s unclear why he simply stops at the cross. As Christians, we should root our opposition to cruelty not solely in imitation of the powerlessness of Christ during his earthly life but also in our obligation to obey the authority of the reigning King Jesus, who commands us to love one another (even our enemies).
One final nod to something French got right: People do love rags-to-riches stories. That’s just one of the reasons the true story of Christ, beginning in a humble manger in Bethlehem and ending on the throne of the cosmos, is so very compelling.
Image Credit: Unsplash
We should not be cruel….
I told a woman bad things
The issue here is not whether we are limiting Jesus’s authority, it is whether we need to exercise self-restraint to limit our aspirations.
In His first coming, Jesus came as a suffering servant. And French is right, Jesus triumphed over death, not Caesar. But that isn’t because Ceasar is over Jesus, but that Jesus came to redeem his people, not to rule over earthly kingdoms. One of the temptations of Christ illustrates that.
In His second coming, Jesus will come as King over all in more immediate terms than He is King now.
Until His second coming, we are implored to imitate Jesus’s first coming, not His second. For only He can accomplish His total kingship, not us nor with our help. We are here to preach the Gospel. We are here to make disciples. But because discipleship starts with faith in Christ for the forgiveness of sins, we find that trying to imitate Jesus in His 2nd coming interferes with and is counterproductive to imitating Jesus in His first coming. And, btw, because discipleship begins with faith in Christ, we need to understand that while we can legislate some morality, we cannot legislate discipleship.
“Curt Day” is probably just one of David French’s pseudonyms.