G.K. Chesterton once quipped that, “America is the only nation in the world that is founded on a creed.” Other nations find their identity and cohesion in ethnicity, or geography, or partisan ideology, or cultural tradition. But America was founded on certain ideas—ideas about freedom, about human dignity, about social responsibility. It was this profound peculiarity that most struck Alexis de Tocqueville during his famous visit to this land at the beginning of the nineteenth century. He called it “American exceptionalism.”
This exceptionalism was articulated at its inception with theologically informed language. The creedal ideas of liberty enshrined in the Declaration of Independence, the Federalist Papers, and the Constitution are framed in eloquent classical rhetoric drawn from Christendom’s rich historical, philosophical, and theological literary legacy:
“We hold these truths to be self-evident.” “All men are created equal.” “They are endowed, by their Creator, with certain unalienable rights.” “Among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” “In order to form a more perfect union,” to “establish justice, ensure domestic tranquility, and provide for the common defense,” to “promote the general welfare and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity,” deriving authority from “the consent of the governed.” “Power is of an encroaching nature . . . it ought to be effectually restrained from passing the limits assigned to it.” “If men were angels, no government would be necessary.”
James Madison asserted that “no language is so copious as to supply words and phrases for every complex idea or so correct as not to include” those terms that “denote equivocal meanings.” Understanding this, the Founders stretched the limits of the English vocabulary using the exceptional imagery of the Scriptures and their cultural application throughout history.
If America’s 250-year-long experiment in liberty is indeed exceptional, it should not surprise us that it was best expressed early on with such exceptional language. Lofty ideas warrant lofty vocabulary.
But of course, such ideas must be reiterated, reaffirmed, and protected in every generation. Daniel Webster asserted, “Whatever makes a man a good Christian also makes a good citizen.” What he meant was that the Gospel fruit in the lives of believers—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control—makes for healthier communities, safer neighborhoods, and a stronger nation. We who are called to be salt and light are to spread abroad the values of mercy and grace, of beauty and goodness, of truth and justice. As the classic Hal David and Burt Bacharach song declares, “What the world needs now is love, sweet love.” And not just any love—it is the love of Christ that it most needs. Our job is to show it forth by every means.
One of the most exceptional aspects of American exceptionalism is that we can show forth the essential principles of the Christian worldview and its promise of peace, hope, and justice in Christ at the ballot box. It is not the only way—or even the most important way. But it is certainly a part of our stewardship to wisely set before our neighbors a principled commitment to what is right and good and true at the very moment when what is wicked and perverse and fallacious is trumpeted by the world, the flesh, and the devil. To vote is to take a stand. To vote is to love our neighbors well. To vote is an exceptional privilege.
May the gladness and joy of Gospel-shaped lives bear witness in our time with clarity in words, in deeds, and in votes at the ballot box like never before. Wouldn’t that be exceptional?
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