“Isn’t nationalism just another word for patriotism?”
I hear this question all the time. While many people use the terms interchangeably, they are not the same. One is about love, the other about power. One builds up, the other tears down. The difference is critical for those of us seeking to live the way of Jesus today.
A few years ago, I started tracing my family tree. I found revolutionaries, government leaders, and even a treaty broker who worked alongside Ben Franklin. Exploring my family’s deep roots in America reminded me of something we often forget: true patriotism isn’t about power—it’s about love. And love of country isn’t about blind allegiance to government power; it’s about something much deeper.
I am proud of my heritage.
I love America.
When I say that, I don’t mean I’m in love with our tax system, our environmental policies, or how much we spend on national defense.
I mean, I love my home.
The places I grew up. Hamburgers, ice cream, fireworks on the Fourth of July, cold beer, Van Halen. Even the Dallas Cowboys (though they perpetually break my heart).
I learned just how much I love my home in 2014. That summer, I spent a few weeks in Uganda. I deeply loved my experience there, and I’ve returned many times since. But near the end of my stay, I found myself feeling an unexpected emotion—homesickness.
I missed my land and my people. "I missed the familiar rhythms of home—speaking my own cultural shorthand, eating my food, and waking, working, and resting on my own schedule.
I love my Ugandan brothers and sisters, but their ways are not my ways. Their culture is not my culture. And that was okay. What I longed for wasn’t my government—it was my country. My home. My people.
That’s what true patriotism is about.
A patriot loves their country, their people, their home. Patriots celebrate their nation’s virtues, engage in its customs, and—out of love—critique its failures. They don’t worship their country; they help it become better.
Patriotism is about love. Nationalism is about power.
Nationalism, on the other hand, calls for one group of people to take power over others. In practice, it tends to foster suspicion or outright hostility toward those who are deemed outsiders.
Nationalism says, “We are better than all others,” and often works to secure power through exclusion, dominance, and even violence. Nationalism fears cultural change and treats diversity as a threat.
This idea—that patriotism is an expression of love rather than power—isn’t new. C.S. Lewis captured it well in his book, The Four Loves. He writes:
"First, there is love of home, of the place we grew up in . . . love of old acquaintances, of familiar sights, sounds, and smells . . . With this love for the place there is a love for the way of life; for beer and tea and open fires, trains with compartments in them and an unarmed police force and all the rest of it."
For Lewis, patriotic love does not require hatred of others. Unlike nationalism, which often fuels hostility, true patriotism fosters admiration, grace, and a desire to protect what one loves—not through aggression but through care. He continues:
"Of course, patriotism of this kind is not in the least aggressive. It asks only to be let alone. It becomes militant only to protect what it loves. In any mind which has a pennyworth of imagination, it produces a good attitude towards foreigners."
Patriotism is about love. Nationalism is about power.
Patriotism invites in. Nationalism kicks out.
Patriotism loves. Nationalism fears.
Patriotism critiques. Nationalism silences.
Patriotism makes room at the table. Nationalism builds walls around it.
In his book How to Be a Patriotic Christian: Love of Country as Love of Neighbor, theologian Richard Mouw echoes this idea. He argues that patriotism is not about blind loyalty to a government but belonging to a community. It’s about loving a people, not seeking power over others.
That’s where Christian nationalism gets it wrong.
Unlike patriotism, which stems from love, Christian nationalism is rooted in the perceived supremacy of a single people group.
It seeks political power to enforce its cultural and religious vision. And because worldly power requires enemies, it thrives on fear—fear of outsiders, fear of change, fear of losing dominance. This fear often leads to division, hatred, and even violence.
American Christian nationalism may wrap itself in the flag, but it isn’t patriotism—it’s fear masquerading as faith. True patriots don’t need enemies to love their home. If your version of patriotism requires an 'us' and a 'them,' it’s not patriotism. It’s supremacy in disguise. And that’s not love of country—it’s love of power.
Want more?
For more resources on engaging Christian Nationalists, check out the Disarming Leviathan podcast, our website, DisarmingLeviathan.com, and the book Disarming Leviathan: Loving Your Christian Nationalist Neighbor.
I agree with your analysis. Both Nationalists (including Christian Nationalists) and patriots purport to hold the positions they do out of love for country, but if, for the sake of your “love,” you support taking away others’ rights (due process, habeas corpus, the right to protest a military parade without threats of violence from the president, etc.) — rights that you would never relinquish yourself— you are not obeying Jesus’ command to love your neighbor as yourself.
Excellent distinction!