Berea Update for June 26, 2026

We are standing on the threshold of a pretty remarkable moment in history. Next week, on Saturday, July 4, our nation celebrates its 250th Independence Day. "Semiquincentennial"—that’s the official, mouth-boggling word for it. A quarter-of-a-millennium of the American experiment. Flags are being dusted off, fireworks are being prepped, and the air is thick with patriotic nostalgia. As citizens of the United States, we have a unique privilege. We live in a nation built on foundational ideals of liberty, a place where we enjoy freedoms that billions of people throughout human history could only dream of. It is entirely right to be grateful for that. It is right to honor those who sacrificed to secure those liberties. But as followers of Jesus, a milestone like this forces us to slow down and ask a deeper, more uncomfortable question: Where does my ultimate allegiance lie?

For the next two weeks, I want us to pull back the layers on what it means to navigate this tension. How do we live as faithful citizens of an earthly nation while holding a primary passport to an eternal kingdom? Who gets our ultimate loyalty?

The early church lived in a hyper-patriotic, deeply nationalistic empire. Rome didn't just ask for taxes; it demanded total devotion. Yet, the apostle Peter wrote something revolutionary to those early believers. He called them "sojourners and exiles" (1 Peter 2:11). The Greek word he used for sojourner is paroikos—it means a resident alien. Someone who lives in a place, respects its laws, contributes to its economy, but whose true home, culture, and ultimate allegiance belong somewhere else. Theologian Augustine famously wrote about this in his masterpiece, The City of God. He argued that human history is a tale of two cities: the City of Man, built on love of self and earthly glory, and the City of God, built on the love of God and heavenly glory. As Christians, we inhabit both cities simultaneously. We drive on the roads of the City of Man, we vote in its elections, and we pay its taxes. But our hearts belong to the City of God.

Here is where we often get tripped up, and it’s a trap that captures people on both sides of the cultural aisle:

The Trap of Political Idolatry: This happens when we begin to fuse our Christian faith so tightly with national identity that we can no longer tell where the Kingdom of God ends and the American dream begins. We start believing that the salvation of our culture rides on the next election cycle rather than the rugged cross of Calvary.

The Trap of Cynical Withdrawal: This is the opposite error. It’s when we look at the brokenness, the political vitriol, and the moral decay of our nation and say, "Forget it. It’s all burning anyway. I'm just going to hunker down in my holy huddle and wait for the rapture."

Neither of these options is biblical. Jeremiah told the Jewish exiles living in pagan Babylon—a nation that had literally destroyed their homeland—to "seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf" (Jeremiah 29:7). We are called to love our country by serving it, praying for it, and actively seeking its good. But we do so with a holy detachment. We love our nation best when we love Jesus most. When our ultimate security is anchored in the unshakeable Kingdom of Heaven, we are finally freed from the panic, the anger, and the desperation that grips the world when earthly politics don't go their way.

This ties directly into our ongoing series in Mark, "Who Do You Say That I Am?" If Jesus is truly the cosmic King, then Caesar—or any modern equivalent—is distinctly secondary. So, as the fireworks stands sell out this week and the red, white, and blue takes over, let's thank God for the immense blessings of our earthly home. But let’s also remember that we are just passing through. Our citizenship is in heaven, and from it, we await a Savior.

You are loved! Keep pressing on!

Upcoming Events