Tribal Christianity

By W. Chaz Glass

The book of Hebrews reminds us that we do not have a High Priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses. Christ came not in the form of angels, but as the Son of Man. He experienced rejection, betrayal, suffering, and unbelief from those closest to Him. His ability to relate is not theoretical. It is incarnational. And this intimate knowledge of our condition produces compassion. As followers of Christ, we are commanded to walk in that same compassion. But in the West, and particularly in the politically charged landscape of American Christianity, that compassion has become selective, directed only toward those who share our political, cultural, and ideological views.

During slavery and the Civil Rights Movement, the same Bible was used to justify both oppression and liberation. “Tribal Christianity” allowed white congregations to preach a gospel of order, submission, and silence while ignoring the gospel of justice, liberation, and love being preached in Black churches. This was not a difference of interpretation on minor doctrines; it was a fundamental fracture in understanding the very heart of God. I see the same spirit that remained silent then is remaining silent now on different, but related issues and I’m terrified.

In John 17, Jesus prays for the unity of believers so that the world would believe. Our disunity isn’t just an internal problem; it actively undermines our witness and makes the gospel unbelievable. The enemy is still executing a strategy of division. A divided house cannot stand. A divided army cannot win a war. Many churches operating in “stovepipes” or isolated silos, competing for members and dollars. This is the perfect description of modern American evangelicalism. We have adopted a corporate, market-driven model of “success” that measures everything by attendance, buildings, cash and clicks, not by faithfulness, unity, making disciples or Christlike character. This competition directly works against the unity Jesus prayed for.

The entire nation of Israel marched around Jericho. Not the tribe of Judah one day and the tribe of Reuben the next. This was and is not the strategy. The walls of systemic injustice, racism, hate, discrimination and spiritual strongholds will only fall when the entire body of Christ, unified, diverse, and speaking with one voice, marches together and lets out a shout. But we are not. We are marching in our separate little circles, with our separate little flags, following our separate little leaders, having our separate little conferences, in our separate little denominations, building our separate little towers to make a name for ourselves, wondering why the walls aren’t falling. Some segments aren’t marching at all; they’re defending the walls or denying they exist.

The giants are real: Christian nationalism, racism, deep partisan hatred, economic injustice. These ideologies stunt spiritual empathy and corrupt the witness of the Church. The 2nd amendment is not a God-given right; it is a right built into the constitution, and the constitution has nothing to do with the first and great commandment, nor the great commission. They form a Christ in our own image, a tribal Christ, an American Christ, a political Christ, rather than the crucified, compassionate Son of God. And like the Israelites in the valley Elah, we are cowering in fear as Goliaths taunt us. We have forgotten that we serve the God of David, the God who brings down giants not with Saul’s armor, but with faith, a smooth stone, and a willingness to run toward the battle in the name of the Lord of Hosts.

When we critique specific individuals, the conversation easily devolves into partisan debates about that person’s intentions or record. It becomes a “he said/she said” argument. But when we critique the spirit that has infected the body, it transcends politics. No one can reasonably argue that the Church should not be unified, compassionate, and set apart. We are holding ourselves to our own stated standard, the way of Christ. We cannot control what pundits say, even pundits who are members of the body. But we can, by the grace of God, control how we as the Church live. We can choose unity over tribalism. We can choose compassion over condescension. We can choose to build diverse communities that reflect Heaven. This is our responsibility and our calling.

If the church was visibly diverse, white, black, Latino, Asian, blue collar, white collar, no collar—we would, without needing to say a word, prove hateful rhetoric wrong, as we operate from a kingdom vantage point rather than a national one. But the salt has lost its savor. We are afraid and make excuses, and therefore what Dr. King saw in the spirit as the greater problem is still manifesting today: “Sunday is the most segregated day of the year.” This tribal Christianity opens the door to another gospel to be preached because visible unity cannot contradict it. It is simple: we just need to live in unity, and every message that aligns more with country than kingdom will be exposed. This is a deep trust in the truth of the gospel. Light exposes darkness simply by shining. A healthy body fights off infection. By faithfully being the unified, counter-cultural Body of Christ, we become a living rebuke to every compromised, nationalistic gospel. The contrast becomes undeniable.

Our primary mission is not to correct every wrong voice in culture; it is to be the faithful Bride of Christ. When we prioritize that, our very existence becomes our testimony. The world will know we are His disciples by our love for one another (John 13:35), not by our winning of political arguments. The Church must return to the heart of Christ, who wept over Jerusalem, healed Gentiles, dined with sinners, and cried out for forgiveness over those who murdered Him. Christ remained compassionate to those who were made in His Father’s image regardless of their background. The church cannot battle against high level principalities operating at national and institutional levels divided. We must reveal unity to the world if we want to heal its brokenness.