A PROPHETIC TASK, NOT A POLITICAL INSTRUCTION

Let me begin with a necessary clarification. I am not here to tell you how to vote.

But I am here to do something that sits at the heart of our calling as Christians—especially within the Welsh nonconformist tradition: to think, to question, and to discern. In a word, to be prophetic.

Our tradition has never been comfortable with unexamined power. It has resisted both the overreach of the state and the complacency of established religion. It has insisted on the primacy of conscience and held, sometimes at great cost, that Jesus Christ—not any monarch or president—is Lord.

So this is not about offering neat, binary answers; it is an invitation to think more deeply. And that brings us to a phrase that has re-entered public discourse with renewed force: Christian Nationalism.

For some, it feels like a natural pairing—faith and national identity woven together. For others, it signals danger, conjuring fears of exclusion, control, and even dystopian futures. As a Senedd election approaches, it has become clear that “Christian Nationalism” does not mean one thing; it carries very different meanings depending on who is using it.

1. THE OLDER WELSH WAY: A HUMBLE CHRISTIAN NATIONALISM

When we hear “Christian Nationalism” today, we tend to imagine something modern and often American in tone. Yet Wales has its own, distinct tradition.

In the twentieth century, many Welsh nonconformists would have been comfortable describing themselves in these terms, but what they meant was very different. Their vision was not about grasping power or enforcing conformity but about preserving culture within a theological vision of unity in diversity.

They understood the Welsh language, like every language, as a gift from God to be stewarded. Culture was something to be celebrated and also a means through which the gospel could be communicated. Nations themselves were not simply a consequence of the Fall but part of God’s creative intention.

Within Baptist life, figures like Lewis Valentine embodied this instinct, while the Congregationalist R. Tudur Jones gave it its most careful theological articulation. Tudur Jones argued that loyalty to nation need not compete with loyalty to Christ, provided that love of nation remained humble, open, and peaceable.

At its best, this form of Christian nationalism prevented the nation from becoming an idol and resisted the temptation to use God to justify power over others. The nation mattered, but it sat firmly under the lordship of Christ.

It is important, however, not to romanticise our tradition. There are chapels that have declined precisely because Welsh culture became the primary focus rather than Christ. Cultural Christianity may sustain one generation, but it rarely holds the next.

Even so, at its best, this tradition fostered education, social responsibility, and a strong sense of local community. It also helps explain why many Christians in Wales still find a natural resonance with values historically associated with Plaid Cymru, shaped in part by the moral instincts of the chapel tradition.

2. A NEW AND DIFFERENT MOOD: REACTIVE CHRISTIAN NATIONALISM

The contemporary use of “Christian Nationalism” often signals something quite different. Rather than faith shaping politics, it can feel as though politics is shaping faith.

This is evident in the rhetoric surrounding figures like Donald Trump, where Christian language is frequently woven into political messaging in ways that are selective and instrumental. Similar patterns can be seen closer to home, where elements of the political right have adopted Christian symbols and language for cultural or ideological ends.

Even in Wales, YouTube and TikTok personalities have illustrated how Christian vocabulary can be combined with strong cultural and political anxieties. The issue is not that Christians speak about politics in public; that is both inevitable and often necessary. The problem lies in the framing.

In this newer form, the idea of a “Christian nation” is frequently presented as something under threat, requiring defence. The tone can become reactive, even militaristic, and the gospel risks being compressed into a particular political narrative.

The language of “culture wars” becomes prominent, with debates about gender identity, sex education, immigration, and climate change framed in stark and oppositional terms. Many of these concerns begin as genuine anxieties, but the way they are often articulated simplifies a complex reality and fosters fear and division.

Churches themselves can sometimes create conditions in which this worldview flourishes, particularly when they indulge nostalgia for a supposedly better past, measure the vitality of faith in cultural terms, or bind Christian identity too tightly to national identity. In such contexts, the cross can easily become a cultural emblem rather than the radical challenge it is meant to be.

3. A PASTORAL RESPONSE IN AN ELECTION SEASON

In light of this, what might a faithful response look like as Wales approaches an election?

First, Christians are not called to withdraw from political life, but neither are they called to place their ultimate trust in any political party. Instead, they are called to see clearly and to resist simplistic narratives. Whenever political voices—whether on the left or the right—offer easy diagnoses and straightforward solutions, Christians should be among the first to recognise the complexity of the situation.

Second, Christians are called to be known for their love rather than their condemnation. If the best of Welsh Christian nationalism expressed a love for community, the gospel extends that love further still, reaching towards the stranger, the outsider, and even those with whom we disagree.

Third, Christians are called to listen without capitulating. It is possible to take seriously the concerns of those drawn to more extreme political positions without endorsing them. A commitment to the gospel requires a belief that every person bears the image of God, including those we find most difficult to agree with.

Yet this commitment to listening does not require a surrender of conviction; it calls for a careful holding together of truth and grace.

CONCLUSION: REFUSING EASY NARRATIVES

We end where we began. I am not here to tell you how to vote.

But I am here to encourage a particular posture: a refusal to accept simplistic narratives, a refusal to allow fear to shape either our politics or our theology, and a refusal to confuse the Kingdom of God with the kingdoms of this world.

The current political landscape offers competing visions of Wales, each shaped in its own way by forms of nationalism, but not all nationalisms are alike. Some echo aspects of the Christian tradition that has shaped Welsh public life, while others represent something newer, angrier, and potentially more troubling.

Each of us must discern carefully. The task is not simply to choose between options, but to think faithfully, critically, and prophetically in the light of Christ’s lordship over all things.

(This is an AI translation of a talk I originally prepared in Welsh).