J.D. Greear’s new book on Christian cultural and political engagement just hit the shelves. Titled Everyday Revolutionary: How to Transcend the Culture War and Transform the World, he has been previewing its release for a few weeks now, to mixed reactions.

Commenting on the subtitle, “transcend the culture war,” reporter and author Megan Basham noted that it’s “rough when your book COMPLETELY misses the moment. (Also, the American church has been trying to do that for decades. Look at the culture it got us).”

Abigail Dodds also insightfully chimed in, defending the “culture war”: “Whenever I hear ‘transcend the culture war,’ I want to ask: what do you think the culture war is? It already is the transcendent war. It’s not a war of violence or bloodshed, it’s a transcendent war for ideas, ideologies, truth, goodness, and beauty. It’s a spiritual battle waged with temporal results. It’s Ephesians 6 lived out.”

And today, Josh Daws raised the alarm that, from the very first page of the book, it’s riddled with false assumptions.

Now, I haven’t read the book yet. This article is not about the book as a whole, but rather an article that Greear published today at The Gospel Coalition: “Faithfulness amid the Culture War: Prophetic Boldness, Gospel Priority, and Whether the Third Way Is Still Helpful.”

I can’t read an entire book in one morning, but I can read an article.

And if the content of the book is anything like what Greear published at TGC today, it will be deeply unhelpful at best and subversive at worst.

I took to X to write a thread highlighting the fatal flaw of a false dichotomy in Greear’s argument about the relationship between preaching the gospel and political engagement. As this is such an important issue for the American church at present, I wanted to memorialize what would have otherwise been ephemeral social media engagement in a more substantial rebuttal.

First, the context is crucial here, so be sure not to overlook it. Greear is writing in the immediate aftermath of the most shocking political assassination of the last 50+ years: The murder of a Christian conservative hero and martyr, Charlie Kirk, by a deranged Leftist. Not only was Charlie killed by a Leftist partisan, but then thousands of other Democrats celebrated his murder.

Greear handwaves this away, breezily commenting on how “Many wonder if the days of a nonpartisan approach to Christian cultural engagement are over. In recent years, they say, the lines have been more clearly drawn, and thus Christians—especially pastors—need to be less hesitant to align the cause of Christ with the right side of the political aisle…They say the response to Charlie Kirk shows us it works evangelistically, at least for a lot of young men.”

“Many wonder…?” “They say, the lines have been more clearly drawn…?”

Yes, J.D. Greear, the lines have been clearly drawn. They were drawn in blood on a college campus when Charlie Kirk was shot in the neck, and half the country cheered it on.

It’s not a question of whether or not cultural and political lines have been drawn in this nation, and that Christians, as American citizens, must now choose a side. It’s just a question of whether or not you have eyes to see that bright red line running down the middle of our country.

On one side stands the Right, who gather for prayer when their hero is martyred in cold blood. On the other side stands the Left, who riot and burn down cities when violent criminals overdose on fentanyl, but cops get blamed. And that’s just one example.

The lines are drawn on transgender issues, on abortion, on marriage, on parental rights, on open borders and community-destroying mass immigration, on sentencing policies that allow violent repeat offenders to be released over a dozen times back into our cities, resulting in the gruesome murder of innocent young women like Iryna Zarutska, which took place in Greear’s backyard in North Carolina.

The fact that Greear is arguing that the lines are no different today than they were, say, in 1999, reveals a stunning lack of discernment. It might sound cliché, but it’s true: Greear has no idea what time it is.

Greear then recounts how “One pastor friend even told me, rather cheekily, regarding his political views, ‘People need to know where their pastor stands. I’ve decided if I’d say it around the firepit, I’ll say it from the pulpit. Anything less is inauthentic.’ Faithfulness, it’s believed, means making clear where we line up politically.”

Greear disagrees. He responds, “Let me (briefly?) explain here why I think this is not only a mistake but a lack of faithfulness to the mission of Jesus.”

In his own words, Greear argues that “faithfulness to the mission of Jesus” requires pastors not to make it “clear” where they stand politically.

This sets up a false choice: “preach the gospel OR engage politically.” He treats prudential caution about the pulpit as if it were the only faithful Christian posture.

But this neat division collapses under scrutiny at three levels: 1) Conceptual, 2) Moral, and 3) Strategic.

First, the Conceptual Error

Greear wants a strict hierarchy where “make disciples” is the primary verb and politics is merely a downstream consequence—an optional byproduct of genuine ministry. He’s trying to create a pure “gospel nucleus” that floats above the messy realities of politics. But this misunderstands how public moral order actually works. Political identity, law, and custom aren’t just consequences of discipleship, but are means by which people secure both earthly and heavenly goods. They create the conditions in which gospel ministry either flourishes or withers.

When a nation intentionally arranges its laws and customs in light of Christian ends, that’s not “adding politics to the gospel.” It’s simply Christians faithfully stewarding the public square. It’s political action shaped by theology, not a distraction from it.

Greear’s “gospel-first” language sounds pious. Who could argue against putting the gospel first? However, in practice, it detaches discipleship from the very social and political structures that make discipleship possible, including families, churches, schools, and the rule of law itself. Simply saying “just preach the gospel” naively assumes civic conditions will remain friendly to Christian witness. It incredulously imagines we can ignore institutional hostility and still raise Christian children.

Second, the Moral Error

Greear appeals to Acts 15, “don’t burden Gentile converts with Jewish ceremonial requirements,” as if that passage settles questions about Christian political and cultural engagement. But Acts 15 is about intra-church stumbling blocks: whether circumcision should be required. It has precisely nothing to do with whether Christians should engage in the culture war or exercise public moral leadership when life and flourishing are threatened.

When institutions that protect life and nurture virtue are being actively dismantled, when laws are rewritten to deny biological reality, when children are targeted, and when religious liberty is squeezed, polite apoliticism is not an expression of neighborly love but an abandonment of it. It is abdication.

If your theology of neighbor love requires you to pull a stranger from a burning building, it also requires you to advocate for fire codes. If you’d intervene to stop an assault on the street, you can’t claim neutrality when laws enable assaults on human dignity and the family.

Third, the Strategic Error

Greear argues that pastors should be either accidentally naive at best or purposely ignorant at worst about the nature of politics in the everyday lives of American Christians. Greear worries the pulpit shouldn’t make “Jesus synonymous with a political party.” Okay, fine, we shouldn’t be a party hack. But the real strategic danger today is precisely the opposite. The actual threat is silence or timidity that lets hostile political projects define reality for people—especially young people—who will never hear robust catechesis anywhere else. The culture is catechizing your congregation 24/7. Is the pulpit?

The reality is that the “neutral zone” past ministry models assumed, where you could simply preach the gospel and let culture do its thing, no longer exists. That world is gone.

We’re now in a context where silence is interpreted as consent. Progressive ideological projects are not merely neutral policy disagreements about tax rates or zoning laws. They’re active attempts to remake civilization’s foundations: what a human being is, what a family is, what a man or woman is, whether children belong to parents or the state, and so on.

When reality itself is contested, when the fundamental goods that make human flourishing possible are under assault, purity tests and institutional timidity simply cede ground to those who have no qualms about wielding power. Staying neutral or apolitical is just losing by default. And a pastor who refuses to name the moral stakes affecting life, family, and religious freedom forfeits his ability actually to protect the flock.

If you want a positive example of what preaching political truth from the pulpit looks like, here is SBC pastor Erik Reed laying it all on the line:

Faithfulness always entails integrity and truth-telling. And the truth is that the vast majority of this is very obviously coming from the Left. You’re not a partisan-hack pastor for publicly denouncing the Left. One could argue you’re actually being prophetic. And oftentimes the restraint Greear is referring to is the failure to be prophetic. It’s a failure to speak plainly, as the Apostle Paul commends in 2 Corinthians 4:2:

“Rather, we have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God. On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to everyone’s conscience in the sight of God.”

You want to be faithful? Speak plainly.

Jesus and John the Baptist vs. J.D. Greear

Additionally, Greear cites Jesus’ refusal to judge a family inheritance dispute (Luke 12:13-14) as evidence that Jesus avoided political and legal judgments to keep His mission focused. Yes, Jesus refused to be pulled into that petty family squabble. But context matters: He wasn’t rejecting the authority to make moral judgments. He was refusing to be co-opted into a cynical attempt to use Him as a tool in someone’s personal grievance.

Jesus absolutely did not refuse to preach about politics and morality to public rulers. He certainly didn’t save his political opinions for just when he was huddled around a campfire cooking fish with his disciples.

Greear himself concedes this when he mentions John the Baptist confronting Herod over his unlawful marriage. That wasn’t private pastoral counsel. This was a prophet calling out a king’s public sin, and it cost John his head.

So the question isn’t “Should pastors avoid all political speech?” The question is: “When does pastoral moral witness require public political speech and action?” And the answer is clear: When public policy systematically attacks truth, life, and human flourishing.

So my question for Greear would be, “Does this describe him?” Was he publicly rebuking those systematically attacking truth and life? Did he rebuke BLM’s ideological roots in Marxism and its open assault on the created order of family and sexuality? Did he publicly oppose Joe Biden’s aggressive promotion of abortion up to birth, his administration’s attempt to erase distinctions between men and women, or his targeting of faithful Christians through federal policy?

We know the answer to these questions. Greear has a long and documented history of proudly using the pulpit to push Leftist politics, such as DEI-based hiring quotas and more. Here’s just one example.

Conclusion: Reject the Third-Way and Embrace the Totality of the Great Commission

The Great Commission includes teaching disciples to obey everything Christ commanded. That “everything” includes His teaching on marriage, family, sexuality, the value of children, justice, truth-telling, and the dignity of all image-bearers. These truths have political implications.

To preach the gospel faithfully in our moment requires naming what threatens human flourishing and opposing it with both spiritual and political means.

Anything less is actually not faithfulness, but failure.