When Fundamentalists Write Foreign Policy: Duane W.H. Arnold, PhD

When Fundamentalists Write Foreign Policy

Mike Huckabee’s recent assertion—that Israel holds a divine, biblical title deed to the entire Middle East and therefore may act without restraint—reveals a deeper crisis at the intersection of faith and geopolitics. It is the moment when hermeneutical certainty hardens into political absolutism, and when foreign policy is guided not by prudence but by a selective reading of Scripture reframed as a land grant. Moreover, it demonstrates how quickly fundamentalism can turn a living biblical narrative into a geopolitical charter, sanctifying state actions without regard for historical complexity, human cost, or the Church’s call to reconciliation.

However the matter is viewed politically, the theological danger is clear. When fundamentalists collapse contemporary events into biblical categories, nations cease to be actors in a web of regional interests and become proxies in an eschatological struggle. Negotiation becomes appeasement. Diplomacy becomes weakness. Compromise becomes betrayal.

This is not how wise statecraft functions, nor is it how the Church sustains its integrity.

I write this as someone shaped by a conservative theological tradition, who learned to love Scripture deeply, and who later discovered through the Fathers that Scripture resists simplistic readings. The early Church understood that the promises of God are fulfilled in Christ and extended to the whole world—not parceled out as perpetual territorial claims. Augustine, in particular, warned against confusing the earthly city with the City of God. The prophetic imagination is not a tool for drawing borders; it is a summons to justice, mercy, and humility.

Huckabee’s rhetoric participates in a long pattern whereby political leaders or their religious allies appeal to biblical destiny to justify national aims. Woodrow Wilson invoked a kind of democratic messianism, reading America as an instrument of global salvation. The Cold War repeated this habit with a civil religious fervor. In recent years, sectors of the evangelical movement surrounding Donald Trump adopted a similarly sacred nationalism. The logic is consistent: if God has issued a mandate, then any prudence, restraint, and/or negotiation become faithlessness.

Moreover, the Church soon pays the price. History has repeatedly shown that whenever Christians bless the ambitions of the state, the Church loses its ability to critique injustice—even when that injustice is perpetrated by the state it has made  sacred. The Donatist controversy offers a sobering reminder: when political circumstances are confused with spiritual purity, the Church fractures under the weight of its own self-righteousness.

The present moment reflects a widening divide within American Christianity. On one side are those who see the Church as chaplaincy to the nation, tasked with blessing political goals through biblical language. On the other side are those who understand the Church as the Body of Christ—rooted in sacrament, tradition, and the ministry of reconciliation. The former is drawn toward triumphalism; the latter, toward humility. The former can only produce foreign policy shaped by absolutism; the latter recognizes the moral necessity of prudence.

Huckabee’s claim that Israel “owns” the Middle East by virtue of biblical mandate is not simply a misreading of Scripture; it is a symptom of a wider disorder in which political desires are cloaked in the garments of divine entitlement. Moreover, this framing invites Christians to mistake ancient covenantal history for a contemporary geopolitical blueprint, as though the promises of God were land deeds waiting to be activated by modern politicians.

The danger is that once divine sanction is presumed, restraint becomes unnecessary and justice becomes negotiable. It is precisely here that the Church must speak clearly. The Gospel does not grant any nation—Israel, America, or any other—a perpetual exemption from moral scrutiny. The promises of God are fulfilled in Christ, extended to all nations, and never intended to justify unchecked political power. If we are to answer Huckabee’s argument faithfully, we must reclaim a theological imagination that resists triumphalism and insists that foreign policy be shaped not by biblical proof texts but by the hard, patient work of justice, mercy, and peace. Only then can the Church recover its voice in a world too ready to baptize its own ambitions.

Duane W.H. Arnold, PhD

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15 Responses

  1. Captain Kevin says:

    “… as though the promises of God were land deeds waiting to be activated by modern politicians.”

    Just thought that beared repeating. Thanks Duane!

  2. Duane Arnold says:

    CK

    I think that is how MAGA views it…

  3. Michael says:

    We haven’t talked a lot about this here…so many other fires to put out with this administration.

    This is an attempt at some sort of partial theocracy informed by a 200 year old theology that most of the visible church rejects.

    It is also the result of that theology being taught to people over and over as if it is indeed holy writ…it is not.

    There can be no good outcome from this …

  4. Duane Arnold says:

    Michael

    You’re right that we haven’t addressed this much, mostly because the administration keeps us occupied with whatever fire is burning hottest. However, this moment reveals a deeper problem. The theology behind it isn’t ancient at all—it’s a 19th-century construct preached so persistently that many now treat it as holy writ. Moreover, it has become the scaffolding for a soft theocracy, one detached from the historic faith and blind to the moral limits that should restrain every nation.

    There is no good outcome when political ambition is granted divine mandate. It distorts Scripture, compromises the Church, and confuses ideology with the Gospel. The task now is to speak with clarity and remind the faithful that the Kingdom of God isn’t advanced through geopolitical fantasies, but through justice, humility, and peace.

  5. Muff Potter says:

    Practice whatever religion you want, whatever floats your boat, just know that it will NEVER become wedded to the State.
    Our Founders were wise indeed.

  6. Duane Arnold says:

    Muff

    The founders were wise… The current administration, not so much.

  7. JD says:

    And Satan holds the “title deed to the earth”. Can both be true?
    Obviously neither are true.

  8. Ra's al Ghul says:

    It is partly because of Dispy Christians and denominations (like Calvary Chapel) is why I became an atheist.

  9. Duane Arnold says:

    When a version of Christianity is built on fear, rigid charts, and geopolitical fantasies masquerading as theology, it becomes almost impossible to see the Gospel beneath the noise. Moreover, when churches preach Dispensationalism as if it were the only faithful reading of Scripture, they leave people with a brittle faith—one that shatters the moment the system shows its cracks.

    What you walked away from wasn’t historic Christianity. It was a 200-year-old framework elevated far beyond its merit, and weaponized in ways that wounded a great many people. I’m sorry it drove you out rather than drawing you deeper. You deserved better teaching, better community, and a better vision of God.

  10. WenatcheeTheHatchet says:

    I shifted away from dispensationalism while still basically being a fundamentalist Pentecostal back in my late teens. My Assemblies of God youth pastor did a presentation on ways of interpreting Revelation and went through all the major schools of thought. I found myself swiftly gravitating toward the amillennial partial preterist historicist approach because, as the youth pastor put it, “Revelation had to mean something to the earliest Christians to be around long enough to make it into the Bible and a problem with the dispensationalist position is it can’t answer the question of why Christians benefited from reading Revelation back when John wrote it”.

    Well, that was pretty direct. The youth pastor said that he had his own convictions and beliefs about what Revelation most likely meant but the most honest pastoral answer is “We don’t know for sure” and the most honest pastoral practice, he believed, was to give us knowledge of the varied schools of interpretation so we could form our own convictions.

    As I have gotten older I have realized more and more that that AG youth pastor was probably a spectacular outlier from mainstream early 1990s Pentecostal eschatology.

    Of course there were other doomsday timelines circulating back then, too. This year will be the 40th anniversary of the start of Alan Moore’s Watchmen, after all, and the nukes obviously didn’t fly just because Reagan was in office.

    I’m honestly less concerned about dispensationalism by itself than the weird fusion of post-Latter Rain Pentecostal/charismatic triumphalism crossbred with postmillennialist reconstructionist dogmas. THAT stuff I consider both stupid and dangerous. Dispensationalism by itself was comparatively niche because the old school fundies like Merrill Unger weren’t all that politically activist from what I can recall. The newer movements seem set on wanting to have Unger’s demonology while having Wink’s theology of the powers, i.e. the powers that be can be redeemed but with that nasty proviso that they can be redeemed if we have that power. And it’s a sure bet they neither read Jacques Ellul or Engels about how the nature of power doesn’t change merely because it’s changed hands.

  11. Duane Arnold says:

    WTH

    You’re naming the real danger. Classical dispensationalism, for all its flaws, at least carried a basic skepticism about human power. Men like Merrill Unger weren’t trying to build a kingdom here; they were trying to escape one. However, what we’re seeing now is something far more volatile—a fusion of Latter Rain triumphalism, charismatic dominion language, and reconstructionist dreams of legislating the Kingdom. It’s an eschatology with an appetite for power.

    Moreover, as you note, it tries to borrow the demonology of Unger while smuggling in a distorted version of Walter Wink’s theology of the powers. The result is a movement convinced that the powers can be “redeemed” only once they control them—a theological sleight of hand that would have horrified Wink, Ellul, or any serious student of political theology. Power does not sanctify simply by changing hands.

    This hybrid ideology is not only intellectually incoherent; it is genuinely dangerous. It baptizes ambition, excuses authoritarian impulses, and blinds its adherents to the predictable corruptions that come whenever Christians imagine they can seize the levers of the world and use them for God. The tragedy is that it leaves the actual Gospel—its humility, its mercy, its call to repentance—buried beneath a shiny, triumphal vision that looks nothing like Christ.

  12. Muff Potter says:

    @ Ra’s al Ghul:
    I couldn’t go full atheism after leaving Calvary Chapel.
    I hold to the tenets of The Apostle’s Creed as non-negotiables,
    but pick and choose with regard to the other stuff.
    For example, I reject the Doctrine of PSA (penal substitutionary atonement).

  13. Ra's al Ghul says:

    Duane and WTH.

    Latter Rain was condemned as a heresy by the Assemblies of God (a historic Pentecostal denomination) some 60-70 years ago, and a number of pastors and churches were kicked out of the AoG because of it. Interestingly it took root in some of the overseas AoG churches (notably Australia and New Zealand) One notable adherent was pastor (and sexual abuser) Frank Houston. Frank Houston was the father of Brian Houston of Hillsong fame. One can map out the connections of these aberrant theologies, their leaders and adherents, as well all the cross-pollination, and networking to see how dangerous and messed up this fusion is. Something that was once condemned as heresy by the AoG is now embraced (Sarah Palin’s AoG church in Alaska and their 7 Mountains/NAR beliefs is but one example).

    As an aside, in the 1970s and early 1980s, I grew up attended an AoG, so like WTH I quite familiar with the dispy eschatology, the end-times nuttiness, and all that.

  14. Duane Arnold says:

    The cross connections read like a Dan Brown novel…

  15. WenatcheeTheHatchet says:

    Ra’s, yeah, it’s been decades since I read about that stuff but I appreciated that the Assemblies of God denomination condemned Latter Rain so long ago I wasn’t even born yet. Gordon Fee alone was proof that Pentecostals could be serious scholars and theologians.

    Latter Rain started creeping back into some AoG churches in the early 1990s which was one of the reasons why, as I learned more about it, I stopped going to the church I used to consider my home church (plus I moved away from my hometown as it was).

    Something that sticks out like a sore thumb for me about the recent/old batch of Christian nationalists is that a guy like Wilson has no reservations about showing up on the Mark Driscoll show, as if the guy doesn’t know or knows but doesn’t care about all the stuff Driscoll has claimed by way of continuationist super-powers. The object lesson seems to be that among literally self-ordained theo-bros scripts of dudeliness are more important than bothering to stick with doctrinal distinctives like cessationism or are patriarchal anything (there are CREC types who willing to put up with Paula White because access is access, it seems).

    John MacArthur was a jerk and a troll in my opinion but he did, at least, stake out a consistently anti-charismatic stance … though eventually even he had to grudgingly admit Gordon Fee could likely trounce him on textual scholarship.

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