These three fronts of America’s culture wars still define a strain of conservatism that has worked well on Election Day. Nearly three decades after Inhofe recalled that quip, the draw toward these issues, and others like them, is strong.

But matters of faith — and where they belong in the public square — are tricky. We’ve occasionally dipped our toes in it: posting the Ten Commandments at courthouses and at the state Capitol, or when prayer should be allowed in school.

More often than not, however, faith will get an affirming nod from government and not much more. State and federal courts across the country have kept the church and the state apart. But there is a growing desire from some to meld the two.

Some quotes:

“I’m tired of this ‘separation of church and state’ junk that’s not in the Constitution,” said Colorado Congresswoman Lauren Boebert.

“If we’re going to have one nation under God, which we must, we have to have one religion,” said Ret. Gen. Michael Flynn.

And from outgoing Oklahoma Attorney General John O’Connor, “So our system has to be based on a deeper set of principles, and I submit to you that that’s God the creator.”

All of these lines could accurately be described as expressions of Christian nationalism. But where politicians once avoided association with the term, some are wholeheartedly embracing it.

“We need to be the party of nationalism, and I’m a Christian, and I say it proudly, we should be Christian nationalists,” Georgia Congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene said.

If this seems like an abrupt turn, think again. The rise of Christian nationalism has been in the making for decades.

Before going further, let’s clarify some terms.

Nationalism defines what it means to be part of a nation. Race, language, culture and territory are often a part of nationalist beliefs and often are exclusionary.

Christian nationalism narrows it further by making adherence to the faith an essential component of citizenship.

The United States has some of its roots in nationalism. Colonists were alienated by the British Empire and felt more closely tied to the places they lived here. Later on, nationalist urgings propelled America’s westward expansion.

And while an underlying divine surety helped fuel that expansion (think of manifest destiny, American exceptionalism and the like), the founders steered clear of an outright marriage of religion and state.

The Constitution’s First Amendment opens with, “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof … .”

The Constitution goes further in Article VI, Section 3, saying, “no religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States.”

The founders had their reasons for writing these clauses. They knew the history of their ancestral lands, where religious wars ravaged much of Europe. In the Thirty Years War alone, as many as 12 million people across the continent died, and a third of Germany was wiped out.

Many American colonists fled religious persecution in Europe that persisted long after the wars followed that the Protestant Reformation ended. The founders saw to it that the government would not codify a religion and force people to comply with its tenets.

Even so, we’ve picked at the edges of the separation of church and state.

Sometimes it’s been through quiet influence. Abraham Vereide and his successor, Doug Coe, created and nurtured The Fellowship, also known as The Family (featured in a Netflix series) — a secretive, illuminati-like organization that sought to attach itself to powerful politicians in Washington, D.C., for the purpose of using their influence to further Christian aims.

The Family established the National Prayer Breakfast but mostly worked behind the scenes. The late Sen. Tom Coburn was one of The Family’s more prominent adherents.

Others have sought more public avenues. David Barton, an Oral Roberts University graduate, has sold truckloads of books and videos tying America’s founders and the Constitution to the Christian faith.

Barton’s historical accuracy is sketchy, and one of his books on Thomas Jefferson was pulled by its publisher because of numerous inaccuracies. That didn’t matter to his fans, and Barton cultivated his fame to gain influence in Texas state education circles as well as on the periphery of President Donald Trump’s White House.

For Barton and others like him, it comes down to permeating the culture. Dominionist theology espouses this, encouraging Christians to become involved in all areas of society in order to bring God’s kingdom to Earth.

In some corners of Charismatic Christianity, dominionism is further refined in something called the “Seven Mountain Mandate.” Those seven mountains are defined as education, religion, family, business, government and military, arts and entertainment, and the media. The mandate: a Christian takeover of all of them.

Proponents would say the benevolent nature of the faith makes this a good thing. But I’d advise caution, not only for the good of the country, but for the faith itself.

Getting national buy-in for a Christian nationalist state is an impossible hill to climb. According to a 2021 Pew Research poll, 69% of those surveyed believe government should not declare any faith as the official religion of the U.S.; just 15% said the government should declare the country a Christian nation.

Those numbers, and many others indicating similar trends, were fairly consistent across most American demographics.

That makes sense, given the diverse makeup of the country. While most Americans profess Christianity, the U.S. is home to a broad cross-section of beliefs. The spirit, if not the letter, of the Constitution tells us to treat them equally.

But Christian nationalism seeks to divide believers from nonbelievers and fundamentally change what it means to be an American. You can see where an entire underclass could be created, made up of people who don’t fit the Christian nationalist mold.

From there, the dangers increase.

In India, Muslim minorities are straining under the oppression of Hindu nationalists who now run that country. Religious fealty reigns in Afghanistan under the Taliban, who force their extreme interpretation of Sunni Islam on its people, much to the detriment of Shiite Hazaras and women.

Religious purity tests in these countries and others have led to misery. Worse still, it’s often the powerful who decide how and when religious edicts are enforced.

Who would be those people in the U.S.? Would it be Boebert, Greene or Barton? Or perhaps the U.S. Supreme Court? You could argue the current court, with its rulings on abortion and prayer in school, is already at work furthering religious aims.

In any case, I’d urge those peddling Christian nationalism to listen to those on the front lines of Christian evangelism.

The Southern Baptist Convention’s International Mission Board tackled the issue of Christian nationalism head-on, labeling it as one of three great American heresies infecting the church.

At the foundation of that statement are essential Christian beliefs that contradict any form of nationalism.

The Great Commission tells believers to “go and make disciples of all nations.” In John 3:16, it says, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son … .” Revelation 7:9 describes a multitude of people “from every nation, tribe, people and language” gathered around God’s throne.

Nationalists sniff at globalists, but the New Testament is clear that Christianity is a worldwide faith not tied to national identity.

As for me, I’m going with the founders. They knew the risks of combining faith and politics and that the two would ultimately debase each other. Too many evils have been done in the name of God.

What’s more, know this: Any faith that is forced on the people is a dead one. We are American by birth or naturalization; we belong to a faith (or none at all) by choice. And in the ongoing American experiment, we are all in it together.

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