Pursuing faithful political order and rule, using the power of the state to do good, as has been recognized by Christians throughout the ages, is a good and noble vocation. But Christian political action is also not presumptuous. It is realistic about what can be accomplished in this fallen, evil age, an age in which God has not promised ultimate victory, even as it is optimistic because it entrusts itself to a God who in his infinite wisdom sovereignly rules human history.

Man was made to order and rule over the world that God made. Although there is a unique (and theologically important) sense in which this was true of Adam, it is inherent in the image of God and continues to be the case even after the Fall.

Nonetheless, Adam’s fall into sin has radically changed everything. Although the vocation remains (order and rule), it can no longer be carried out in the same way as would have been the case had Adam not sinned. What, then, has the Fall done?

A classic principle of Christian theology, one that has been invoked often with regard to Christian political action, is this: grace does not destroy but restores nature. This means that certain aspects of how God made the world do not cease to be operative simply because sin has twisted and deformed those institutions. This would include things like the goodness of marriage and childbearing, as well as the goodness of labor and work. With regard to political order it means that although the Fall has created difficulties with regard to the human vocation of ordering and ruling the world, it has not destroyed the possibility of doing so. Governance is not—even in light of the Fall—a sub-Christian concern, or contrary to human virtue. Man still maintains the capability and responsibility to order and rule the world.

Sin, however, has made this much more difficult. There is now an enmity between those who belong to Satan and those who belong to God (Gen 3:15). This enmity will manifest itself in the world until the coming of Christ when he will return and put every enemy under his feet (1 Cor 15:24–25). The entire created order, political rule included, has been “subjected to futility” and exists in a state of “bondage to corruption” (Rom 8:20–21). Fallen mankind “became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened” (Rom 1:21). “Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and creeping things” (Rom 1:22–23). Sin has infected everything, the ability to rule well, even the ability to think properly about ruling well.

Had Adam not sinned, faithfully ordering and ruling the world as he was meant to do would not only have been possible, it would have been a joy. With the entrance of sin into the world, the vocation remains, though twisted and distorted by the Fall. Order must now overcome disorder, rule must include governance, but also punishment, and so on.

This does not mean that political order and rule is worthless, nor that much good cannot be done through it, but it does mean that there should be a Christian “eschatological reserve” wherein we recognize that the good we can do this side of Christ’s return is limited. Our political philosophizing must reflect these limitations.

Put simply and succinctly, Christian political action in a fallen world can be defined according to a simple maxim (to be expanded in subsequent articles): Do the good you can, where you are.¹

The antithesis between the divine and satanic seeds will not be overcome in this age; the fullness of the kingdom of God will not be manifest until the last day. But God has revealed, both in his word, and in the various facets of the created order, what man’s vocation in the world is, and how that vocation should be carried out. That vocation includes ordering and ruling over the world and its people, in the unique tribes, tongues, and nations that God has established. Nothing about the Fall negates this vocation and responsibility.

While some Christians reject political power as too tainted by the Fall, there is also a temptation for Christians to reject the kind of limited and circumspect approach to politics I’ve begun outlining in this article. This temptation can take many forms, from utopianism to despair and defeatism regarding our present political condition. The latter can even be combined—as strange as it might seem—with hope in some form of nearly miraculous intervention that will usher in a sudden transformation of a given political order. In this way of thinking doing the limited good you can, where you are, just props up a tottering, evil regime. Better to let it all burn and hope an unexpected deliverer will arise to set things right.

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