Moe Bergeron

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  • Christ and the Identity of the New Covenant People

    Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

    I write to you as a fellow believer — one who shares your love for God’s truth, your grief over the moral decay of our nation, and your deep desire to see Christ honored in every corner of life. I do not write to you as an enemy, but as one who believes the very gospel we both cherish speaks with urgency and clarity to the vision you are pursuing.

    You have looked at the ruins of a post-Christian culture and said: something must be done. That impulse is not wrong. The Bible does not call us to indifference toward the societies in which God has placed us. We are told to seek the welfare of the city where we live (Jeremiah 29:7), to pray for kings and all in authority (1 Timothy 2:1–2), and to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God (Micah 6:8). Responsible civic engagement is not a compromise — it is faithful stewardship.

    But I must speak plainly, because the stakes are eternal.

    The Temptation We All Face

    What I want to lovingly but firmly contend is this: the Christian Nationalist project, whatever its varied forms, tends toward a fusion that the New Testament warns us against with unmistakable clarity. It joins the identity of Christ’s people to a particular nation, political movement, or cultural heritage so closely that the two begin to appear inseparable. And when that happens — when an American flag and a cross become visually, emotionally, and theologically indistinguishable — something has gone catastrophically wrong. Not because the flag is evil, but because the cross has been reduced.

    Paul’s words to the Galatians cut to the heart of this. He writes to churches being pressured to fuse faith with ethnic and national identity. The Judaizers were, in essence, the first “Christian nationalists” — insisting that to be truly right with God, Gentile believers needed to take on Jewish national identity, circumcision, and the markers of a sanctified nation. Paul’s response was not mild disagreement. He said:

    For I through the law died to the law, that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. (Galatians 2:19–20)

    And later:

    For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision avails anything, but a new creation. (Galatians 6:15)

    Paul did not say Jewish identity was worthless. He said it could not define the people of God. Only Christ does that.

    What the Gospel Creates

    The gospel does not recruit Gentiles into a sanctified version of Jewish nationalism. Nor — and this is the point I most need you to hear — does it create a new Gentile nation that replaces Israel as an earthly political people. What it creates is something the world had never seen before: a New Covenant community drawn from every tribe and tongue and nation, whose defining identity transcends every earthly boundary because its members are united to a crucified and risen Messiah.

    Paul labors to make this unmistakable in Ephesians 2:14–19:

    For He Himself is our peace, who has made both one, and has broken down the middle wall of separation… so as to create in Himself one new man from the two, thus making peace… Now, therefore, you are no longer strangers and foreigners, but fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God.

    And John, caught up in worship, sees the culmination:

    You are worthy… for You were slain, and have redeemed us to God by Your blood out of every tribe and tongue and people and nation, and have made us kings and priests to our God. (Revelation 5:9–10)

    Notice what John sees in heaven. He does not see a sanctified nation. He sees a people gathered from the nations. Their unity is not a shared passport, a shared ancestry, a shared political platform, or a shared cultural heritage. Their unity is the blood of the Lamb.

    The Relativizing of Every Allegiance

    Now here is what must be said with both conviction and tenderness. This does not make Christians indifferent to the societies in which God has placed them. You are still Americans. You are still citizens. You still vote, serve, build, and contribute. None of that is taken from you.

    But the lordship of Christ relativizes every earthly allegiance beneath it. That word — relativizes — is deliberate. It means that your national identity, your political convictions, your cultural heritage, and your love of country are all real, but none of them is ultimate. None of them sits on the throne of your heart. None of them defines the people of God in the place that belongs exclusively to Christ.

    No national identity — not even the most liberty-loving, God-referencing, historically blessed nation on earth — can become a badge of superior Christian authenticity. No political citizenship can function as a boundary marker of the New Covenant people. Baptism, not birthright, marks the people of God. Faith, not flags, defines the household of God. The Lord’s Table, not any nation’s table, is where Christ’s covenant community is recognized and fed.

    A Brother’s Appeal

    I know that some of you will hear this and think: But surely you see what is happening to our country? Surely you understand that if we don’t act, everything will be lost?

    Brothers and sisters, I do see. And I grieve with you. But I must ask you to consider whether the medicine you are reaching for is, in fact, a poison dressed as a cure. When the church binds herself to a nation’s political destiny, she does not exalt the nation — she diminishes herself. She trades her prophetic voice for political access. She trades her identity as the body of Christ for the role of chaplain to a political movement. And history — including our own Reformation history — testifies that whenever the church has sought worldly power to protect her witness, she has ended up losing both her power and her witness.

    The early church conquered Rome not by seizing its government but by refusing to let Rome define them. They were crucified, thrown to lions, and burned as torches — and they sang hymns as they died. Their identity was not Roman. It was not counter-Roman. It was Christ. And that was enough to turn the world upside down.

    It is still enough.

    Christ alone is the identity of His people. May we be found faithful to that singular, glorious, sufficient identity — and may we never trade it, for any nation, for any cause, for any crown but His.

    In Christ’s grace and truth,
    Moe Bergeron
    (moebergeron.com)

  • Zechariah 2:5 — A Wall of Fire Around Her

    Zechariah 2:5 — A Wall of Fire Around Her

    In a vision given to the prophet Zechariah during the post-exilic restoration of Jerusalem, the Lord reveals a promise of protection that defies every earthly standard of defense. Jerusalem will not need walls of stone, for the Lord Himself will be her enclosure—not a barrier that hides but a fire that consumes whatever approaches with hostile intent. This promise, given to a battered and rebuilding community, points forward to the New Covenant, where Christ is both the foundation and the firewall of His church, and where the Spirit of God burns within and around the people of God as an unconquerable presence.

    “And I myself will be a wall of fire around her, declares the Lord, and I will be the glory within her.” — Zechariah 2:5

    The Lord speaks with emphatic personal commitment: “And I myself will be a wall of fire around her.” The repetition of the first-person pronoun underscores that this is not a delegated task but a direct divine action. In the Old Testament, the Lord frequently appeared as fire—burning the bush before Moses (see Exodus 3), descending on Mount Sinai in smoke and flame (see Exodus 19), and leading Israel through the wilderness as a pillar of fire by night (see Exodus 13). Fire in Scripture communicates both the consuming holiness of God and His active presence among His people. As a wall of fire, the Lord becomes both a barrier and a weapon: a barrier that the enemy cannot cross, and a weapon that destroys whatever draws near with malice. In the New Covenant, this fire is the Holy Spirit, whom Christ promised to send upon the church. At Pentecost, the Spirit appeared as tongues of fire resting upon each disciple (see Acts 2), and that same fire now surrounds and indwells the body of Christ, forming an invisible but invincible perimeter of divine protection.

    The image of a wall would have resonated deeply with Zechariah’s audience. Jerusalem’s walls lay in ruins, and the returning exiles lived in vulnerability and shame. The neighboring peoples opposed the rebuilding effort (see Nehemiah 4), and the temptation was to trust in hurriedly constructed fortifications rather than in the Lord. But the Lord declares that He Himself is the wall—no thickness of stone required. This does not mean the Lord abandons prudence, but it means that the ultimate security of His people never depends on human ingenuity. In the New Covenant, the church is built not upon walls of mortar but upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus Himself as the cornerstone (see Ephesians 2). The protection of the church is as sure as the character of the God who surrounds her, and no gate of hell shall prevail against her (see Matthew 16).

    The second half of the verse shifts from perimeter to interior: “and I will be the glory within her.” The Lord does not merely surround His people; He dwells among them. In the Old Testament, the glory of the Lord filled the Tabernacle at its dedication (see Exodus 40) and later filled the Temple under Solomon (see 1 Kings 8). That glory was the visible sign of God’s covenant presence, the assurance that He had chosen to make His dwelling with Israel. But in the New Covenant, the glory of God is no longer confined to a building. Paul declares that God has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ (see 2 Corinthians 4). Christ is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of His nature (see Hebrews 1), and through union with Him, the believer becomes a temple of the Holy Spirit (see 1 Corinthians 6). The glory within is the Spirit of the risen Christ, who transforms us from one degree of glory to another (see 2 Corinthians 3), ensuring that the interior of the believer’s life is as secure as the exterior, for God Himself fills it.

    The combination of fire around and glory within creates a picture of complete protection. The enemy cannot breach the perimeter because the Lord is the wall; the enemy cannot corrupt the interior because the Lord is the glory. This dual safeguard reflects the New Covenant promise that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus (see Romans 8). The church is surrounded by divine fire and filled with divine glory, and this two-fold reality ensures that every assault from without and every temptation from within is met by the presence of God Himself. The believer who is united to Christ shares in this protection, for to be in Christ is to be enclosed by the very presence of God, kept secure by a fire that does not harm the people of God but purifies them and consumes every enemy that dares to approach.

    Reflections Zechariah 2:5 reveals that the Lord Himself is both the wall that surrounds us and the glory that fills us. No enemy can breach the fire of His presence, and no corruption can invade the temple of His Spirit. As we live as the church of Jesus Christ in the midst of a hostile world, may we rest in the assurance that our safety does not depend on the structures we build but on the God who surrounds us with fire and dwells within us with glory, keeping us secure until the day of His return.

  • Psalm 31:20 — Hidden in the Shelter of His Presence

    Psalm 31:20 — Hidden in the Shelter of His Presence

    David composed this psalm during a period of intense personal danger, likely while fleeing from those who sought his life. The entire psalm moves from cries of distress to declarations of trust, reaching a crescendo of confidence in God’s hidden protection. The imagery of being sheltered in the very presence of God elevates protection beyond physical rescue to a spiritual reality where the believer is concealed within the embrace of the Almighty. In the New Covenant, this shelter is fully realized in Christ, who has torn open the veil and brought us into the holy presence of God, where no enemy can reach and no accusation can stand.

    “In the shelter of your presence you hide them from the plots of men; you store them in your hiding place, away from the strife of tongues.” — Psalm 31:20

    The psalmist begins with a remarkable location for divine protection: “In the shelter of your presence you hide them.” The Hebrew conveys the idea of being concealed within a secret covering, a screened-off place where only those whom God invites may enter. In the Old Testament, this secret place was the Holy of Holies, where the glory of the Lord dwelt between the cherubim and where no ordinary worshipper could approach (see Exodus 26). The high priest alone entered once a year, bearing blood for the sins of the people (see Leviticus 16). Yet David, even under the Old Covenant, grasped that the truest shelter was not the physical temple but the presence of God Himself. In the New Covenant, the veil has been torn from top to bottom by the death of Christ (see Matthew 27), and every believer now has boldness to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus (see Hebrews 10). The shelter of God’s presence is no longer a restricted space but the living reality of union with Christ, where the believer is hidden with Him in God (see Colossians 3).

    The nature of the threat is specified: “from the plots of men.” The word “plots” suggests calculated schemes, deliberate conspiracies designed to ensnare and destroy. David knew what it meant to be hunted by enemies who schemed in secret, for Saul and his courtiers laid traps for him in the wilderness (see 1 Samuel 23). Yet the promise is that the Lord hides His own from the cunning of human adversaries, not necessarily by removing them from physical proximity to danger but by concealing their souls within the impregnable fortress of His presence. In the New Covenant, this protection extends to the spiritual realm, where the plots of men are often tools in the hands of the enemy who seeks to destabilize the faith of the church (see Ephesians 6). Christ, who was Himself plotted against and delivered up by the schemes of men (see Acts 2), now shelters His people from the ultimate destruction those plots intend. The enemy may devise, but the shelter of God’s presence renders every scheme powerless against those who are hidden in Christ.

    The second clause deepens the imagery: “you store them in your hiding place, away from the strife of tongues.” The verb “store” conveys the idea of treasuring, as one would safeguard a precious possession. The people of God are not merely tolerated in His presence; they are treasured there, kept as the apple of His eye (see Deuteronomy 32). The “strife of tongues” refers to accusing words, malicious gossip, and the verbal assaults that can wound more deeply than a sword. In the ancient world, a false accusation could destroy a reputation or cost a life (see 1 Kings 21). In the New Covenant, the ultimate “strife of tongues” is the accusation of the devil, who stands before the throne day and night bringing charges against the brethren (see Revelation 12). Yet the believer who is stored in the hiding place of God’s presence is beyond the reach of every accusation, for Christ is our Advocate with the Father, and His blood speaks a better word than the blood of Abel (see 1 John 2, Hebrews 12). The hiding place is not a cave of isolation but a chamber of communion where the accuser’s voice cannot penetrate, because the One who shelters us has already answered every charge with His own righteousness.

    Furthermore, the dual action—hiding and storing—reveals the thoroughness of divine protection. God both conceals the believer from what would harm and preserves the believer for what is to come. In the Old Covenant, this was seen in the way the Lord preserved a remnant through exile, protecting them from annihilation and storing them for future restoration (see Isaiah 10). In the New Covenant, the hiding place is both present and eschatological. Presently, the believer is sheltered in Christ from the condemning power of sin and the accusations of the enemy. Eschatologically, the believer is being stored for the day of glory, when the hiding place will be revealed as the eternal dwelling of God with man (see Revelation 21). The Spirit, who is the present guarantee of this inheritance, ensures that the believer remains safely within the shelter of God’s presence until that final unveiling (see Ephesians 1).

    Reflections Psalm 31:20 assures us that the most dangerous place in the eyes of the world—the presence of a holy God—is the safest place for the believer. There, in the shelter of His presence, the plots of men lose their power and the strife of tongues falls silent. As we navigate the accusations and schemes of this fallen age, may we draw near with confidence to the hiding place secured for us by the blood of Christ, trusting that the One who treasures us in His presence will keep us to the end.