Book review of Tim Perry’s When Politics Becomes Heresy

 

 

Book review

 

When Politics Becomes Heresy: The Idol of Power and the Gospel of Christ. By Tim Perry. Bellingham, Washington: Lexham Press, 2025. 202 pages.

Reviewed by Hendrik van der Breggen

 

Tim Perry’s When Politics Becomes Heresy laments evangelical churches mirroring the political polarization of contemporary culture, observes that many evangelical Christians are turning politics into an idol, and calls those evangelicals to repent. To which I say: Amen!

In this review I will do the following: (1) talk briefly about the book’s author; (2) set out some general comments about Perry’s book; (3) discuss heresies in general; (4) look in detail at two of the five specific heresies examined by Perry and look briefly at the other three.

As readers of this review will see, I am basically in agreement with pretty much all of Perry’s book. This (lengthy) review, then, will provide readers with an extensive overview of the book along with some detailed highlights—to whet the reader’s appetite to study Perry’s book.

My conclusion: Buy Perry’s book, read it carefully, and take its message to heart. Jesus—the real Jesus—comes first, not politics.

In a postscript I set out a list of (and links to) other reviews of Perry’s book and a couple of author interviews, for additional thought.

 

1. About Tim Perry

Rev. Dr. Perry is an Anglican priest in the Diocese of Algoma (an ecclesiastical district in Ontario, Canada) and is Lead Pastor at St. Paul’s Evangelical Lutheran Church (Steinbach, Manitoba, Canada). Dr. Perry was a professor of theology at Providence University College and Seminary, and is an adjunct professor of theology at Saint Paul University, Trinity Anglican Seminary, and Tyndale Seminary. Perry’s PhD is from Durham University (England), and he has authored or edited several academic books. He has also written articles for academic journals as well as popular Christian magazines. All this to say: Tim Perry has a keen mind and a pastor’s heart—and I respect him greatly.

Confession for the sake of transparency: My wife and I, along with one of our sons and one of our daughters-in-law, attend St. Paul’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Steinbach. So Tim Perry is our pastor. (My wife and I occasionally attend another church, too, so we can be with our other son and daughter-in-law and our grandchildren.) Tim is also a dear friend of mine (ours) and at various times in the past (before I retired) we were colleagues at Providence University College and Seminary.

Promise: I will do my best not to let my positive and favourable personal view of Tim impinge on the objectivity of my (positive) review of his book!

 

2. General comments

Perry’s book is written humbly (the author is always aware of his own politically idolatrous tendencies) and the book is short. Nevertheless, it packs a double punch (my words). It is (1) a crash course in early Church history vis-à-vis heresies (which in itself is a very good reason for studying this book), and (2) a much-needed pricking of conscience concerning one’s possible heretical/ idolatrous attitudes to contemporary politics (which is also a very good reason for studying this book).  Perry explains, in gentler terms, the purpose of these punches: “This book is not an argument as much as an invitation to see things in a certain way: to read late modern North American evangelicalism through the lenses provided by the classical heresies. Its object is to show that the heresies illuminate something about our situation that has thus far not been considered sufficiently seriously.” (Perry, When Politics Become Heresy, page 93; hereafter references to Perry’s book will simply be the letter P followed by page number.)

Perry sets out five heresies from the early centuries of Christianity and shows how attractive and reasonable—tempting—they were long ago. And he argues that these heresies have shape-shifted over time and context, making them temptations once again today, for us. Perry treats the heretics sympathetically and respectfully (heretics are, after all, persons made in God’s image), but is critical of their misguided ideas—heresies—which are deeply problematic. Perry demonstrates well that we can respect the person with whom we disagree, while we assess his/her ideas.

I must say that Perry’s reporting of how Christians of old discerned heresies made me freshly appreciate the wisdom and keen intellectual gifts of the early Church. Significantly, I also found that Perry’s careful engagement with the old heresies helped me get additional clarity on biblical truth, which is a great benefit. In an important sense we are deeply indebted to heretics. By having truth challenged, we can more readily appreciate truth. As Perry points out, “heretics…force the church to clarify, deepen, and develop sound doctrine.” (P 151)

The heresies of the past are today different in their particularities (more on this below), but sadly—and alarmingly—they remain similar in their replacement of the Gospel with an idol. And today that idol is political power.

As Perry rightly emphasises, politics, i.e., our God-given ability to order our lives together, is a good, but it is not the good.  Yet for many people in today’s culture (at least in the West) having the right politics has replaced religion as the transcendent good. In today’s culture, Perry points out, “Politics is everything and everything is politics.” (P 20) As seems to be clear—Perry takes it as obvious—this heretical turn to political idolatry occurs too frequently today by many evangelical Christians. And Perry argues—and, I quickly add, here all Christians should now get uncomfortable in their pews—this idolatry is the case whether the re-emerging ancient Christian heresies (or echoes thereof) are held by Christians on the political right or by Christians on the political left.

In other words, Perry’s book rises above the fray of “left-bashing” or “right-bashing” and is, so to speak, an equal-opportunity offender. Perry grieves over the sad situation in contemporary evangelical Christianity, confesses personal guilt over having sometimes committed such idolatry, and he lovingly—and firmly—calls fellow Christians to repent. In particular, Christian pastors, leaders, and scholars should take heed, whether they lean left or right politically. I, for one, had to pause and prayerfully take stock of my own idolatrous inclinations vis-à-vis my own political thinking and engagements, and I am grateful to Perry for this.

Aside from the deeply personal call to evangelicals to evaluate their political involvements and repent of possible political idolatry, When Politics Becomes Heresy is largely a catalogue of heresies. The book is a careful historical examination of how five important heresies long ago came to exist in the first place and how they, or at least their logic/ patterns of thinking, manifest themselves today. The book also offers advice on how to respond to the heresies in their current forms. As I mentioned, the book is a crash course in Church history vis-à-vis heresies.  So this book should be useful in Christian colleges as a supplemental textbook in logic and critical thinking courses (to enlarge the typical catalogues of fallacies to include ancient fallacies/ heresies) and this book should be placed in church libraries (to help parishioners who wish to think more deeply and biblically, with an eye to church history and the church’s discernment of core Christian doctrines in the face of serious disagreements). As Perry emphasizes, it is important for Christians, whether left-leaning or right-leaning in their politics, to remember the wisdom of the church past, remember its language and insights, and take all this to heart today—and repent of political idolatry.

A limitation of the book should be noted and made clear, in case readers are expecting more from Perry’s book than Perry intends. Perry’s book is not a critique of specific political policies, whether from the political right or the political left (though sometimes Perry touches on this). Rather, Perry’s book is more modest and, I believe, more important: it’s about keeping first things first. Jesus is first, politics is not. In an interview about his book, Perry clarifies: “Beyond recognizing the secondary goodness of our political life and participating in the ordering of our life together in the wider society, I don’t have a whole lot to say about that. The book is an invitation to people to join me in repenting of making politics the most important thing.”[1]

 

3. About heresies in general

As mentioned, Perry has written his book to deal with present-day manifestations of the logic or echoes of ancient heresies. According to Perry, the present-day feature of these heresies is this: contemporary evangelicalism has embraced the “primacy of politics” and is succumbing to a “peculiar kind of worldliness.” (P 21)

It may be helpful at this juncture, then, to clarify the notion of heresy. As I already indicated, a heresy is a fallacy. A fallacy is a mistake in reasoning/ thinking. But a heresy is worse. Much worse. In Christian context a heresy is an instance of the fallacy of misrepresenting a hugely significant truth with a falsehood. It is a serious error. And bad. Very bad. Hellishly bad. As Perry rightly points out, heresy violates or lessens the importance of the core truth claim, or significant aspects of the core truth claim, of Christianity’s Gospel message. And the Gospel message is no trivial matter. In fact, it is of utmost importance not only for Christians, but also for the world.

Reminder: According to the Gospel, Jesus is the God of the universe who became flesh (a human being), walked among us, was killed on a cross, and subsequently rose to life bodily (physically), and Jesus’ death and resurrection provide salvation for sinners by faith.[2] Because of heresy, Perry points out, “the Jesus of the Scriptures and ecumenical creeds has been misplaced.” (P 3)

Heresies, then, should be exposed, refuted, and avoided. Like everyday fallacies, they are shape-shifters and persist in new times and contexts. But unlike mere fallacies, the avoidance of heresies involves, as Perry makes clear, more than a mere intellectual change of mind, though change (renewal) of mind is hugely important. Along with an intellectual change of mind toward truth (a change of mind informed by evidence, reason, and truth), it also involves a turning of a stubborn sinful heart/will in submission to Him who is The Truth. If there is a spiritual dimension in discerning and avoiding fallacious thinking in general in one’s pursuit of truth (and I believe there is, and I believe Perry believes this, too, though Perry doesn’t explicitly discuss this in his book), then this is all the more true with regard to heresies that block the most important Truth (as I believe Perry would agree).  In a word, turning from heresy requires repentance.

 

4. Specific heresies

Let’s look at the five heresies Perry sets out, and let’s look at what Perry suggests concerning how repentance should take place. I will look at the first two in considerable detail because I think they are most important, and I will look only briefly at the other three. The other three are important, too, but I will leave it to readers to investigate them in greater detail (that is, when they purchase Perry’s book for themselves and for their church and college libraries). The five heresies are these: (a) Simony, (b) Gnosticism, (c) Arianism, (d) Pelagianism, (e) Donatism.

The heresy of Simony serves as a genus (or overall/general heresy) of which the others are species (particular instances of the more general heresy). This is important to remember, so we can keep in mind the major problem lurking behind the other heresies. The major problem for us today is the replacement of Jesus as Lord with the idol of power.

 

(a) Simony

Simony gets its name from Simon Magus, a.k.a. Simon the Sorcerer, who makes his appearance in chapter 8 of the Book of Acts in the New Testament. Simon practiced magic and he seriously amazed many people in Samaria, whether of low or high social status, and he seemed to have garnered quite a following.  And he boasted of himself as someone great. As it turns out, as Acts tells us, when the Apostle Philip comes to Samaria to preach of God’s kingdom and Jesus the Christ, Simon is very impressed with the miraculous signs that accompany Philip’s preaching. And, as Acts suggests, Simon seems to have become a follower of Jesus. Later, however, when Peter and John arrive and place their hands on those who earlier believed Philip’s message and who now receive the Holy Spirit, Simon is even more impressed—so impressed that Simon offers money to Peter and John to buy their ability to lay hands on people to bring to them the anointing of the Holy Spirit. Peter and John sternly rebuke Simon and tell him to repent of this sin.

What, specifically, is that sin? Perry explains:

Simon’s story is ultimately very sad and indeed has been symbolically replayed from the first century to the twenty-first countless times. It is the tale of the “not-quite-convert,” someone looking for an angle to advance themselves and trying to fit the gospel of the risen Lord into that agenda…. Simon’s sin is, simply, the failure to acknowledge Christ’s claim over his world and life, hoping instead to fit Christ into his own self-directed agenda. (P 37)

Simon the Sorcerer was apparently hoping to use the Holy Spirit for his (Simon’s) own ends, to continue amazing others and enriching himself thereby. The sin, then, of Simon the Sorcerer—the Simony heresy—is to demote Jesus as Lord and instead make Jesus one’s servant. It is the sin of putting one’s self and one’s projects above God. It is to violate the first and greatest commandment: love God. (As we will see, the four other heresies examined in Perry’s book are variants of Simony.)

Simony in medieval church history manifested itself via, for example, a powerful family purchasing a church office/position for the sake of seeking political influence for that family with the then-politically-powerful church. The medieval church was selling itself to Simon, in other words. Simony today is the attempt by the not-so-powerful church (or parts of it or its members) to purchase secular political influence by using the church to promote a political cause instead of proclaiming the Gospel. Today’s church is again selling itself to Simon. Perry explains the logic as follows: “We have reversed the dynamic of kings and emperors approaching bishops and popes but otherwise left it completely intact.” (P 51)

How, more specifically, does the heresy of Simony manifest itself today in our politically polarized context? Perry answers: “the language and action of devotion has been transferred to objects in this world: the climate, the homeland, justice (pick a cause), science, whatever.” (P 46) Perry adds: “in our current discourse, these political issues have usurped God’s place in the temples of our hearts.” (P 47) When a political issue is more important to us than the Gospel, we are idolaters. And we are heretics. We commit Simony.

Perry avoids providing examples from the political left and political right, to avoid left-bashing or right-bashing, by instead providing clues for when we should be on the alert for Simony in politics, whether it’s Simony of the right or Simony of the left. (Readers will have to examine their hearts to determine whether their lives display any of these clues.) These clues are found in practices “that know no side and are claimed by all.” (P 47)

Here is one such clue/practice: “When the Bible is deployed to speak immediately to a modern political matter, as though there is absolutely no room for reflection or disagreement, be on the alert for Simony.” (P 47) Perry presents care for the poor as a helpful illustration. Yes, the Bible clearly calls Christians to care for “the widow, the orphan, and the stranger” (Deuteronomy 10:18–19). We are all called to be generous in our care for the less fortunate. This is true and should be our goal. But the fact remains that the Bible is silent on how to best achieve that goal. This implies there can be legitimate disagreement among Christians about the means, whether via government wealth re-distribution programmes (left-leaning politics) or via private wealth creation and encouragements to job creation and charitable giving (right-leaning politics) or something in between. There is room for reasonable good-faith disagreement, in other words. If one thinks not, then one may be elevating politics over Gospel. One may be committing Simony.

Perry elaborates and clarifies well, so I will quote him in extenso:

Immigration, welfare reform, climate change, you name it: they all are indirectly addressed by the Bible’s call for care for the poor and the sharing of covenant blessings. But when someone, whether a preacher or a politician, an activist or lobbyist, insists that the biblical response to any of these social problems is theirs, such that those who disagree with them are not only mistaken but also sinful, and not merely sinful, but wicked, somewhere in a hot corner of hell Simon chuckles. For the Scriptures are being pressed to address a problem of which they know nothing. The Bible is ignorant of refugee crises such as we know them today; it knows nothing of the modern nation state or modern border policy; it knows nothing of the tax code; it certainly knows nothing of ice caps and CO2 levels. It is entirely possible for believers, whose faith in the Scriptures as the revealed word of God is common and whose biblical concern for the poor of our communities and our world is equally fervent, to come to very different answers regarding how best to address any of these issues in particular. When the Bible is misused to make difficult and complex issues seem easy, it is being used to browbeat faithful people into coming to a solution prematurely. It is deploying the language of faith to secure a position in politics. It is Simony. (P 48–49)[3]

Another clue/practice that suggests Simony: Cherry-picking Bible verses in service of a cause held for other prior and assumed to be more important reasons instead of taking the full counsel of Scripture. Here Perry points to the marriage debate popular within contemporary Christianity. Perry writes:

It is amazing to me just how easily, in the popular Christian arguments over marriage, all sides took for granted that the primary—if not exclusive—purpose of marriage is the sanctification of sexual desire, as though procreation and companionship were somehow lesser or even optional goals. To that shared assumption, Bible verses appropriate to the speakers’ own preference were then attached. This expression of sexual desire is licit and therefore ought to be blessed. Or not. And, presumably, whoever has the greater number or better quality of Bible verses wins. (P 49)

Perry goes on:

But, in popular debates at least, rarely was the question-begging of these sorts of arguments pointed out: Who says the sanctification of sexual desire is the primary, or sole, purpose of marriage? Precious little was written about matters that the Bible considers to be very serious: the protection of women, the procreation and raising of children, the uniqueness of Christian marriage over against other forms from the ancient world, or marriage as a sacrament of Christ’s spousal union with the church, and so on. Attention to any of these could have been helpful in reframing the debate for all concerned. (P 49–50)[4]

Perry’s solution for Simony? Prudence.

Perry encourages Christians to “slow down” (P 53) and “fix our eyes on Christ” (P 55). Yes, this sounds like something an old Sunday school teacher might advise—keep in mind Perry is a pastor—but it is still sound advice. Prudence, according to Perry, means we should read Scriptures slowly and carefully, seek wisdom cautiously from those with relevant expertise (keeping in mind that experts can be ideologically influenced, so we should be extra cautious), and take time to deliberate—all the while seeking Christ’s wisdom over our own. If there is a whiff of Simony, that is, if we are guilty in any small way of “rendering unto Caesar what belongs to God in order to obtain or retain Caesar’s status and approval” (P 58), which is to seek our agenda over God’s, then we must repent. Yes, we should be a Christ-like influence on our culture—Perry does not at all disagree!—but the key to such influence is first to seek and obey Christ. We must keep Jesus as Lord and let our politics flow from that. Not the reverse. Keep first things first.

As previously mentioned, the other heresies—Gnosticism, Arianism, Pelagianism, and Donatism—are variations or species of Simony. As not previously mentioned, they tag along with Simony. In other words (mine), Simony is not a lone wolf. Or, as Perry puts it, “Heresies, like demons, don’t come to inhabit houses all by themselves.” (P 64)  Let’s take a detailed look at Gnosticism and then some brief looks at Arianism, Pelagianism, and Donatism.

(b) Gnosticism

Whereas Simony stems from Simon the Sorcerer who was a spiritual thorn in the side of the Apostle Philip, the heresy of Gnosticism manifested itself in early Christianity via a lesser-known yet influential fellow named Cerinthus, a contemporary of the Apostle John. In fact, as Perry points out, Cerinthus was the personal nemesis of the Apostle John. (Interestingly, John ran out of a public bathhouse/pool without bathing to avoid Cerinthus for fear that God might destroy that bathhouse because Cerinthus was in it!) John’s writings in the New Testament, in which John emphasizes that Jesus is God in human flesh (see John 1:1–3, 14) and that the God-man Jesus was actually seen, heard, and touched (1 John 1:1–3), were in large measure a reply to Cerinthus’s gnostic heretical teaching.

According to Cerinthus, Jesus was not God in human flesh. Why not? Because Cerinthus held to a popular philosophical-theological worldview of his culture: Gnosticism. To make Jesus appealing to culture, Cerinthus interpreted—misrepresented—Jesus according to culture.

Gnosticism goes something like this (note: Gnostics tend to differ over some matters, but the following description is generally accurate): there is a radical separation between the spiritual realm and the material realm; God resides only in the higher realm of being of pure spirit, which is good, whereas the lower realm of being consists of matter, which is ignoble or base (some even say it’s evil); the physical-material world (our world) is the flawed catastrophic creation not of God but of some lesser spiritual being’s fumbling (this lesser being/creator is sometimes known as the “demiurge,” but, again, is not God); somehow due to the lesser being’s fumbling, some “sparks” of the divine spirit got trapped in the lower realm of matter—inside human physical bodies.

Significantly, this worldview was not original or peculiar to Cerinthus. As Perry points out, the view is “heavily indebted to Platonic and Neoplatonic thought, Jewish apocalypticism, and Pythagorean mysticism, among other sources.” (P 68) The view sounds odd to us today, but it was not odd for Christian gnostics like Cerinthus. By holding to Gnosticism, they “were swimming in the thought-ocean of their day, entirely at home.” (P 68)

So for Cerinthus and his fellow Gnostics the idea of God taking on flesh—God becoming a physical human being—was dead in the water. Worse: it couldn’t even float. That is to say, the idea that Jesus is the Incarnation of God was at the get-go philosophically and theologically inconceivable as well as in fact impossible. As a result, Cerinthus and company, reflecting the zeitgeist of their day, interpreted—misrepresented—the disciples’ teachings about Jesus in Gnostic terms. Cerinthus and company adopted the culture and applied it to Christianity. Jesus is special only in the sense of being “an emissary from the aeons.” (P69) (An aeon is some sort of emanation from the fullness of the divine/ spiritual realm, also known as pleroma; see P 64–70.)

The problem or predicament for humanity, according to Gnosticism, was that humans are hybrid creatures of spirit (good) and matter (not good). That is, we are divine (not mere image bearers of God, per Christianity), the material world is a flawed not-good creation (not a good-but-fallen creation, per Christianity), and our trapped spirit needs to escape the dreadful physical realm and return to the pure and good heavenly/ spiritual realm (no resurrection of the body, per Christianity).

How? Not, according to Gnostics, via the teachings of Jesus’ unenlightened apostles (i.e., Jesus’ first followers and eye-witnesses), who taught that Jesus was God in the flesh who suffered and died on the cross for our sins and who then defeated death by resurrecting physically, thereby saving us. Again, for Jesus to be God Incarnate—God in human flesh—was inconceivable and impossible. Moreover, according to Gnostics, sin is not our problem, and so there was no need for repentance or a saviour. Rather, ignorance is our problem. For Gnostics salvation is through gnosis, that is, knowledge. Not a knowledge gotten by our ordinary evidence-and-reason-based knowing, but a secret mystical knowledge, a deeply-subjective knowledge gotten (allegedly) directly from the spiritual realm. This teaching was (allegedly) passed from Jesus (who isn’t God in the flesh, but only an aeonic medium) to the gnostic elites but not to Jesus’ culturally-not-with-it apostles. Via esoteric mystical teachings and rituals taught by the Gnostics, humans can “know” they have the divine spark. And because of this “knowledge” we can leave the tombs of our physical bodies at death (contrary to our being resurrected physically as Jesus was, as John and the other witnesses to Jesus claimed of Jesus) and we can return to the pure and good heavenly realm.

All this to say that, in effect, Cerinthus and fellow Gnostics conformed the apostles’ Gospel message to the Gnostic thought-patterns of the culture of their time. Instead of Cerinthus and company converting culture for the true Christ (i.e., Jesus who is God in the flesh, who walked among us, who was killed on a cross for our sins, and who physically resurrected, and to and about whom the early witnesses testified), the anti-Christ Gnostic culture converted Cerinthus and company. And their goal was to convert the early church to that culture, too. The Gnostics’ logic of swimming with the cultural current instead of swimming against the cultural current, and in the process drowning the true Gospel message, is, according to Perry, re-occurring today, but with a political twist.

The political twist is that we are making politics primary and Gospel secondary, and the Gospel has become secondary because it has become primarily personal. Following culture, matters of importance have become mere matters of opinion. Subjectivity has become elevated and has trumped objectivity. And the evangelical Gnostics’ goal is to convert other evangelicals to their politics.

To help the reader understand the Gnostic goings-on in our time, Perry helpfully compares today’s Christian church’s turn-to-subjectivity to the apologetic strategy of Friedrich Schleiermacher (1768–1884). Schleiermacher faced Enlightenment/ modern criticism of Christianity’s doctrines and foundational miracles, criticism by the likes of David Hume (1711–1776) and Immanuel Kant (1724–1824), criticism that allegedly rendered false or irrational the objective truth claims of the Gospel, leaving mere subjectivity in its wake.[5] Schleiermacher responded by embracing subjectivity, too. For Schleiermacher, what was crucial for Christianity and religion in general was merely “the feeling of absolute dependence on God.” (P 82) Religious experience—feeling—not evidence coupled with reason was more important than doctrine. Via Schleiermacher, in other words, Enlightenment culture was embraced, as Cerinthus embraced Gnostic culture, and in the process core Christian doctrines were forsaken. The Gnostics’ logic of swimming with the cultural current instead of swimming against the cultural current, and thereby drowning the true Gospel message, was manifesting itself in the work of Schleiermacher. And, as Perry points out, Schleiermacher “effectively created liberal Protestantism.” (P82)

Like Schleiermacher—and the earlier Gnostics—many in today’s Christian church have embraced the thought patterns of a culture that elevates the subjective over the objective. For many, feelings trump reality. Think of the popularity in some Christian circles (a popularity now waning, thankfully) of the “trans” phenomenon and its pseudo-Gnostic justification that one’s feeling about being in the wrong body is regarded as more veridical than the actuality of one’s material body. Perry sketches relatively recent effects of the subjective turn of which one is what sociologists Christian Smith and Melinda Lundquist Denton in 2005 aptly called Moral Therapeutic Deism. “In this religion, God was remote and largely uninvolved in one’s life (deism) but was available when needed to raise one’s self-esteem or supply a need (therapeutic); its adherents were, above all else, nice (moralistic).” (P 79) Perry adds: “According to Smith’s data, Jewish and Christian, Protestant and Catholic, evangelical and mainline young people were Moral Therapeutic Deists before anything else.” (P 80) Subsequently, more and more people (at least in the West) relegated Christianity to just another personal opinion—a personal gnosis.

Significantly, this turn to personal gnosis was aided and abetted by the fact that many contemporary Christians “bowed the knee to the postmodern Baal.” (P 81) (Reminder to readers: In the Old Testament, Baal is a Canaanite deity the worship of whom is in no uncertain terms condemned by Yahweh.) The nature of our postmodern Baal—our cultural zeitgeist—is well summarized by Google AI: “a rejection of grand narratives and objective truth, a focus on subjectivity and relativism, and a skepticism towards reason and traditional authority.”[6] In the absence of objective Gospel truth and a developed social teaching based on objective Gospel truth, for many evangelicals today the void is filled with politics becoming paramount—an idol. The result: power is Lord.

The heresy of Gnosticism is replayed today in the sense that many Evangelicals are swimming with the culture and letting culture dictate what’s most important. For many evangelicals, politics has become primary, whereas Jesus—the objectively true Jesus—has become secondary. Culture is again Lord, as was the case with Cerinthus and fellow Gnostics (and Schleiermacher).

Perry’s solution for Gnosticism? Realism.

Perry rightly recommends a return to reality, that is, an embrace of the true and biblical view of the world. This return involves, according to Perry, a fourfold understanding of realism.

First, we should embrace realism regarding the natural world. This involves a return to two biblical assumptions. “First, the world outside our minds exists and is ordered in such a way that it can be known. Second, our minds, when they are functioning properly, can know it.” (P 83) We should embrace science done well, keeping in mind its tentative nature and its vulnerability to human foibles and social influences.

Second, we should embrace realism regarding morals. There is objective value that is part and parcel of God’s creation, which can be known by all. C. S. Lewis called this “the Tao.” As Perry points out, “Lewis’s Tao, simply, is the law of God written on the fabric of the universe and in every human heart.” (P 85) Of course, Perry adds, we should be aware that “We’re also sinners who willfully embrace blindness.” (P 86). In other words (mine), we sinners should be aware that we seem able and willing to smudge or perhaps erase what’s written on our hearts. As one wag has said: The writing on our hearts may have been written with a pencil.

Third, we should embrace biblical realism. That is, we should regain “the conviction that the great story of God’s search for humanity as narrated in the Bible simply is the truth.” (P 86) The Bible isn’t a mere “handbook that offers wisdom to otherwise happy lives,” as gnostic evangelicals seem to believe. (P 87) Rather, the Bible’s “purpose is to absorb the world, to tell the truth about it, and to call it and us to repentance.” (P 87) In other words, we must remember that the Bible is a better story than other meta-narratives because it is the objectively true and more deeply truthful story—a story that accurately describes the human predicament and calls us to repent and follow Jesus. Not just any Jesus, but the true Jesus, which leads to Perry’s next and most important point.

Fourth, we should embrace Christological realism. “That is, the Scriptures testify about Jesus Christ, and the Christ given to us by the Scriptures is the real Jesus.” (P 87) And these Scriptures include not only the New Testament but also the Old Testament. We must seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness (Matthew 6:33). Our priority must be Jesus.

Perry recommends that our apologetics for realism be directed at “believers from the margins,” i.e., those who are not ideologically possessed (not completely deluded) by Gnosticism/Postmodernism and do not “hold a cultural cache sufficient to define that [gnostic/postmodern] world and to enthrall its inhabitants.” (P 89) In other words, our apologetics for realism should be directed at those who sense “there is another, better, real world on offer.” (P 89) In other words again, our apologetics for realism should be directed at those who thirst for truth (Isaiah 55:1, John 7:37).

And our politics should be secondary: an outworking of our repentance and following the true Jesus. We as Christians can follow the true Jesus by being light and salt, and thereby influence politics in the direction of goodness and truth, and we can do so without committing political idolatry. The key is to believe Jesus is God and follow Him; we should not make Jesus our servant.[7]

 

(c) Arianism

Arius (256–336 AD) denied that Jesus is the God-man by arguing that Jesus is, rather, a created albeit exalted creature. Jesus is the Son of God but not God the Son, according to Arius. Only the Father is God. Perry is truly helpful in portraying Arius and his reasoning in a sympathetic light (I confess that prior to reading Perry I tended to think, mistakenly, that Arius was just a plain and nasty villain). Perry is also truly helpful in showing how the reasoning of Athanasius (c. 328–373) and others wisely and rightly corrected the Arian heresy. As I mentioned in the introduction of this review, Perry’s reporting of how Christians of old handled heresies made me appreciate the wisdom and keen gifts of discernment of the early Church.[8]

How does Arius’s heresy raise its head today in evangelicalism? According to Perry: “The loss of theological purchase on Christ’s person and work culminates in Arianism of some sort.” (P 114) That is, if we treat Jesus merely as our servant or “cheerleader” for “this or that political issue, which is believed for other, more important reasons” (P 114), then we are treating Jesus as a mere creature, not God. And when Jesus is no longer seen or seriously taken to be God—truly God and truly man—we become like Arius.

Perry’s solution for Arianism? Incarnation.

“If the solution to Simony is prudence, and gnosticism is cured by realism, then the forsaking of Arianism is an embrace of a full-blooded doctrine of the incarnation.” (P 115) We are called to love God with the whole of our minds as well as hearts (Mark 12:30). This means we should use our intellects fully in appreciating and expressing as best we can the truth of Jesus’ identity: that Jesus is fully human and fully God.

For starters, Perry suggests “confessing the Nicene Creed in worship.” (P 116) Also, Perry suggests “reading with Nicaea.” (P 116) That is, let the Holy-Spirit-guided wisdom of the ancient church as expressed in the Nicene Creed help us understand Scripture today. And, to additionally resist Arius, Perry suggests evangelicals bless Mary as the Mother of God. This may sound odd to evangelicals (it did to me), but it is not to abandon protestant evangelicalism and become Catholic. Rather, Perry argues: “It is simply to conform to the Mother of God’s own observation in Luke 1:48–49: ‘For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name.’ Let us take our place among the generations who call her blessed!’ (P 118) Yes, indeed. Mary is the mother of God; that is, Mary is the biological mother of the God-man Jesus. What a great way to remember Jesus is the Incarnation!

And what a great way to remember that Jesus is Lord and not a servant of our politics.[9]

 

(d) Pelagianism

To put it perhaps too pithily, Pelagius (355–420 AD) was overly optimistic about human beings and their (our) sin problem. Pelagius was serious about holiness. Pelagius, however, saw sin not as a deadly disease/ condition passed down from Adam and infecting the whole human race at the get-go, but instead as affecting only Adam. For Pelagius, Adam’s sin was a mere bad example to the rest of us and (in the words of Augustine, summarizing Pelagius’s teaching) “a man is able to be without sin if he wishes” (P 137) The heresy of Pelagius, then, has two closely related aspects: sin isn’t taken seriously enough, and grace isn’t taken seriously enough. As Augustine argues against Pelagianism (see Perry’s chapter 5 for details), sin isn’t mere bad learning from bad company, and grace isn’t mere natural ability to overcome sin (though there’s cooperation with grace, per Pelagius). Sin is a deep spiritual brokenness that the human race inherited from our first parents, and the grace we need to deal with this brokenness is a divinely initiated interruption in our lives (even before our cooperation with grace). To deal with our sin, we need the Gospel—the true Gospel.

How does Pelagius’s heresy manifest itself today politically? When “evangelical activism has been severed from its roots in the crucicentric, conversionist preaching of the gospel.” (P 142) That is, when we don’t put first things first and instead put our politics ahead of Gospel. That is, when we forget the (dark) reality of sin and our (desperate) need for God’s grace and (falsely) think we can bring God’s kingdom to earth on our own, through self-improvement, without true Gospel.

Perry points to the tendency of the evangelical political right to forget, say, that the message of Jordan Peterson, who has many good and important insights, basically is one of self-improvement, not Gospel. (P 142–143) And Perry points to the tendency of the evangelical political left to forget that social justice, though important, risks being, when divorced from Gospel, yet another “failed utopian vision of the twentieth century.” (P 143) Perry adds: “Both [right and left] rest on a dubious optimism about human nature” and “have yet to account for the awful weight of sin.” (P 143–144)

Perry’s solution for Pelagianism? Reclaiming the Gospel.

As the psalmist tells us, we should turn from putting our trust in “princes” (Psalm 146:3–4), that is, in “our political class.” (P 145) Perry clarifies: “Repentance means leaving the temptation to ultimate investment in human structures behind.” (P 146) This is not to embrace moral quietism or to stop being a salting influence in our spheres of influence, including the political sphere (Perry reminds us of William Wilberforce and fellow Christians who were instrumental in abolishing slavery in Great Britain), but it is to remember that Jesus is Lord—and we should “bear witness to God’s kingdom, and bring the good news to people who are [today] often largely inoculated to it.” (P 147) The Gospel—the transforming message of Jesus’ life, crucifixion, and physical resurrection—is God’s means of saving sinners. And without it, not only will we lose our saltiness but also the world will remain lost. Our own kingdom-building efforts will inevitably fail.  “And if politics is all we have left, God help us. We are above all people most pitiable.” (P 147)

Pelagianism, then, is the heresy that we can build God’s kingdom on our own instead of recognizing a “kingdom that’s erupting in our midst.” (P 176) To repent of this waywardness—this worldliness—we must reclaim the Gospel by putting it first. Gospel is the primary good, politics is a secondary good.

 

(e) Donatism

Donatus (died c. 355 AD) was a bishop in Northern Africa at a time shortly after some terrible persecutions of Christians. Donatus and his followers—Donatists—viewed fellow Christians, especially leaders, who had succumbed to pressure to recant their faith (pressure that was severe, to put it mildly) and who subsequently repented and wished to resume positions of leadership, as traitors. For Donatists, only “leaders [who] remained faithful under trial and overcame” could be part of “the pure bride of Christ.” (P 158) According to Donatism, the church’s holiness is comprised of her members’ holiness, and it they lapsed, they are apostate—evil. Donatism emphasized holy rigor over mercy, in other words. And the Donatists saw themselves as the only true church.

This all might sound harsh and narrow-minded to us today, but, as Perry points out, it is important to emphasize and remember that during the time leading up to Donatus many North African Christians suffered terribly and died horribly under severe persecutions. It is understandable, surely, that those Christians who stood firm in such circumstances were not impressed by those who succumbed to cowardice and forsook the faith. (I find it helps to think of those Christian leaders in Germany who succumbed to Nazi ideology and/or helped Nazis. My attitude to them is not positive.)

Against Donatism, Augustine (354–430 AD) argued that the church’s holiness is not constituted by her members. Rather, according to Augustine (Perry’s words): “the holiness that marks the church is Christ’s own holiness, freely given to the church in her sacraments. The church is holy because she belongs to Jesus.” (P 159) Holy rigor is important, to be sure, but so too is mercy. And we must especially keep in mind the truth that Jesus’ righteousness/ holiness is given to us mercifully via grace. “Holiness is an objective, present reality that both animates the lives of believers on their way to sainthood and exists alongside the sinfulness of the church’s members, including those in leadership. It is a forever-offered gift of grace that is sometimes imperfectly accepted and sometimes spurned.” (P 159–160) This is not to set aside the importance of and need for church discipline of her leaders—such discipline is definitely needed—but it is to realize that God’s grace remains in the sacraments; it does not hinge on the spiritual status of the minister of those sacraments. (Personally, I take this to mean that my confession of Christ as Lord, my baptism in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and my taking bread and wine in remembrance of Jesus—these sacraments—hold true, whether or not during the times of my confession, baptism, and communion my pastor is or was engaging in sin). And it is to realize that “the church would be a mixed body of sinners” and “Wheat and tares would grow together until the final revelation of the sons and daughters of God at the last day.” (P 162)

How does this relate to us today politically? According to Perry, it relates to our tendency to follow the spirit of Donatists by viewing those who are “outsiders,” that is, those who are not on board with our politics, as evil. As Donatists condemned as apostate those who weren’t with the program—their program allegedly unstained by worldliness—so we evangelicals sometimes condemn as apostate those who disagree with us politically. In particular, Perry is concerned about evangelicals’ “quick recourse to moral judgment.” (P 165) Today, on contentious issues such as climate change, poverty, and sexuality, there are evangelicals, both on the right and the left, who are inclined to judge readily those who disagree. Those who disagree are judged not merely as mistaken but morally suspect and unholy—fit for exclusion. (P 166) Thereby the spirit of Donatism once again raises its ugly head.

Perry’s solution to Donatism? Enter again his solution for Simony: Prudence. But this time in the form of a two-step prudential judgment. The first step is a “deliberate withholding of judgment on people in disagreement.” (P 167) Here Perry reminds us of Jesus’ well-known exhortation not to judge others (Matthew 7: 1–5). It is not our job to judge people; that’s Jesus’ job. Perry rightly points out: “It is not for me to condemn or acquit Simon, Cerinthus, Arius, Pelagius, or Donatus any more than those brothers and sisters with whom I stand in sometimes sharp disagreement.” (P 167) Rather, we should follow Jesus in seeking reconciliation where possible and by being merciful. But this does not preclude our responsibility to judge ideas, which is Perry’s second step. Though we withhold our judgment of the hearts and souls of those with whom we disagree (which is God’s job), we are called to pursue truth. This involves carefully weighing arguments and evidence and distinguishing truth from falsehood. “The rejection of false ideas in the pursuit of truth is part and parcel of being the church in history; it is the task of faith seeking understanding, of faith and reason working together in the pursuit of him who is the Truth.” (P 168) And we do this via persuasion (reason and evidence), not coercion (physical force or threats or silencing).[10]

 

5. Conclusion

Tim Perry’s When Politics Becomes Heresy laments evangelical churches mirroring the political polarization of contemporary culture, observes that many evangelical Christians are turning politics into an idol, and calls those evangelicals to repent.

In this review I have (1) talked briefly about the book’s author, (2) set out some general comments about Perry’s book, (3) discussed heresies in general, (4) looked in detail at two of the five specific heresies examined by Perry (Simony, Gnosticism) and looked briefly at the other three (Arianism, Pelagianism, Donatism).

My conclusion: Buy Perry’s book, read it carefully, and take its message to heart. Jesus—the real Jesus—comes first, not politics.

In these politically tumultuous times, our temptation is to trust in and busily serve the princes of this world. But we must turn to and trust in Jesus. “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and trust shall be your strength.” (Isaiah 30:15, P 186)

Politics is not the most important thing. The Gospel is what is most important.

 

Postscript: Author interviews and other reviews

• When Politics Becomes Heresy, with Dr. Tim Perry, Mere Fidelity, October 14, 2024 (44 minute podcast).
• Subordinating the Gospel to Politics, Lexham Press, October 15, 2024 (short article).
• The Slippery Slope of Christian Politics, Gospel Simplicity, April 7 2025 (58 minute video).
• Are American Evangelicals Basically All Heretics?? A Review of ‘When Politics Becomes Heresy’, Joel Wentz, May 1, 2025 (16 minute video).

 

Notes

1. The Slippery Slope of Christian Politics, Gospel Simplicity, April 7 2025 (58 minute video). For a careful look at today’s various political alternatives, see David T. Koyzis, Political Visions and Illusions: A Survey and Christian Critique of Contemporary Ideologies, 2nd edition (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Academic, 2019). And for a look at a Christian understanding of citizenship, see David T. Koyzis, Citizenship Without Illusions: A Christian Guide to Political Engagement (Downers Grover, Illinois: IVP Academic, 2024).

2. For evidence and arguments in defence of Christianity’s basic truth claims, see my book APOLOGIA: The Columns: A Defence of Mere Christianity (Amazon KDP, 2023.) For more about fallacies, see my book Truth, Logic, Knowledge: Articles of Critical Thinking (Amazon KDP, 2023).

3. On these complex issues over which Christians can disagree in good faith, publishers such as IVP Academic and Baker Academic have some fine books which provide multiple Christian views.

4. In case it’s of interest, over the past few decades I have thought deeply and written about LGBTQ+ matters. See my articles tagged “LGBTQ+” and “Homosexuality and Bible” over at my blog APOLOGIA. In those articles I set out recommended books and videos.

5. For a few of my thoughts about Hume and Kant, see relevant chapters of my book APOLOGIA. See, too, relevant portions of my PhD dissertation, “Miracle Reports, Moral Philosophy, and Contemporary Science,” University of Waterloo, 2004.

6. This is Google AI’s answer to my question: What are the main characteristics of postmodernism? Google AI’s answer fits with what I have learned of postmodernism. It also fits with Perry’s proposed solution to Gnosticism.

7. Again, for a work on apologetics—in which I defend realism concerning the external world (and our knowledge of it), moral realism (against moral relativism and other competing views), God’s existence, and Jesus’ resurrection—see my book APOLOGIA. (By the way, I am happy to report that my book was endorsed by Tim Perry). For my additional thoughts on how language does not preclude our knowledge of the external/real world, see my article, “It’s Not Interpretation All the Way Down: A Defense of Simple Seeing,” Didaskalia: The Journal of Providence Theological Seminary (Spring 2015): 57–74. This article was subsequently republished in Global Journal of Classic Theology 13:2 (September 2016). See, too, relevant articles at my blog APOLOGIA.

8. Jehovah’s Witnesses hold to the Arian heresy. Perry’s chapter on Arius’s view and how Athanasius’s refuted Arianism may be useful in apologetics to Jehovah’s Witnesses.

9. For a recent and important book defending the biblical doctrine of Incarnation, see Robert M. Bowman Jr. & J. Ed Komoszewski, The Incarnate Christ and His Critics: A Biblical Defense (Kregel Academic, 2024). For a reply to the objection that the concept of God-man is logically contradictory, see my two-part blog article “God Incarnate illogical?” APOLOGIA, October 17 & December 23, 2015.

10. Sadly, Jesus’ command not to judge is often understood today to mean that we are not to make any judgments. But such an understanding is false (and even silly). For more on this topic, see my article “On judging,” APOLOGIA, October 1, 2015.

 

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Hendrik van der Breggen, PhD, is a retired philosophy professor who lives in Steinbach, Manitoba, Canada.