A Personal Introduction
This Theological Treatise was born from my recent participation as one of the featured guests at FlashPoint Live’s gathering at Constitution City, nestled among the rolling hills near Fredericksburg, Texas.
Over the course of two days, I had the privilege of sharing a platform with remarkable leaders, pastors, statesmen, educators, veterans, and patriots who have dedicated their lives to the spiritual renewal and reformation of our nation.
The event itself was extraordinary. The conversations were spirited. The fellowship was rich. Yet as I listened, observed, prayed, and reflected, I found myself wrestling with a question that extended far beyond politics, civic engagement, or national identity. While the event was centered upon the future of America, my reflections ultimately carried me far beyond the boundaries of our culture and into the deeper questions of theology, discipleship, and national stewardship.
As I listened to the conversations, observed the people, and reflected upon the extraordinary spirit of service present throughout the FlashPoint Live gathering, a question began to emerge with increasing clarity:
Why do those who possess a genuine love for their nation often demonstrate a greater willingness to sacrifice, serve, build, and engage than those whose relationship with their nation is defined primarily by resentment, grievance, or disappointment?
That question led me back to Scripture.
It led me to Jeremiah’s command to seek the welfare of the city. It led me to Jesus’ tears over Jerusalem. It led me to His final declaration from the Cross: “Tetelestai”-“It is Finished.” And it once again led me to His command that His followers disciple the nations.
The result is not a political argument. It is a theological exploration of redemption, stewardship, gratitude, and mission.
Studies have shown that people who believe redemption is possible are far more likely to labor for renewal than those who have surrendered themselves to resentment. If Jesus Christ’s finished work secured redemption for a rebellious world, then surely His Church must view the peoples and nations to whom she is sent through the lens of hope rather than abandonment.
These reflections were born from a simple observation: People do not sacrifice for what they despise, but they gladly give their lives for what they love! — Wendell Hutchins II
The Land God Gave You
Standing recently among patriots, pastors, statesmen, educators, veterans, and ordinary citizens gathered in Constitution City, I found myself contemplating a truth that extends far beyond politics.
The deepest works of national renewal are not shepherded by those who despise a nation, but they are almost always shepherded by those who love one.
That observation is a profoundly theological one, not a political one.
The modern age has become remarkably skilled at producing critics. We have no shortage of voices capable of identifying flaws, failures, hypocrisies, injustices, and shortcomings. Yet history repeatedly demonstrates that civilizations are not ultimately preserved by critics, but by builders.
Why? Because builders are almost always people who love what they are building.
Scripture begins with this principle.
The Hebrew Scriptures use the word ‘erets (אֶרֶץ) to describe land, territory, country, and inheritance. The biblical writers never viewed land as accidental geography. Land was a covenantal assignment. It was the stage upon which obedience, stewardship, blessing, judgment, and redemption would unfold.
When God called Abraham, He didn’t limit his call to a life of faith, but He called him to a land.
“Get thee out of thy country... unto a land that I will shew thee.” — Genesis 12:1
This means that biblical affection for a nation is not the worship of its soil, but the stewardship of its assignment.
Away with this idea that the Christian who loves their land is a Christian Nationalist. They love their community, state, and nation because God has assigned them there.
This distinction matters greatly.
Our patriotism becomes holy when it becomes stewardship, not idolatry.
Shalom and the Death of Grievance
The prophet Jeremiah revealed this truth in one of the most astonishing commands in all of Scripture. Writing to exiles living in Babylon, he instructed them: “And seek the peace of the city whither I have caused you to be carried away captives, and pray unto the LORD for it.” — Jeremiah 29:7.
The word translated peace is the Hebrew word shalom (שָׁלוֹם). Shalom is far more than the absence of conflict; it speaks of flourishing, wholeness, welfare, harmony, completeness, and covenantal well-being.
I see something in this remarkable command.
God did not permit Israel to weaponize their wounds. He would not permit them to sanctify their resentment, but He commanded them to seek the flourishing of the very city that had conquered them.
Build. Plant. Pray. Multiply. Serve.
Seek the shalom of the city because resentment withdraws, but shalom builds.
And herein lies one of the greatest crises of our age. Entire movements have constructed identities around grievance, and they have learned to interpret reality primarily through injury.
The victim mentality asks: “Who harmed me?” The steward asks: “What has God entrusted to me?” These two questions create two entirely different futures.
This is why social scientists consistently observe that communities characterized by gratitude, civic attachment, social trust, and communal responsibility are significantly more engaged in volunteerism, charitable work, community development, and service than those communities dominated by cynicism and resentment.
The Bible recognized this reality long before sociology discovered it. People sacrifice for what they love. People build what they believe can flourish. People serve what they hope can be redeemed.
Tetelestai and the Redemption of Nations
This truth brings us directly to Calvary.
As Jesus hung suspended between Heaven and Earth, bearing the weight of human rebellion, He uttered a single word that reverberates across the centuries:
Tetelestai.
Τετέλεσται.
“It is finished.”
The word derives from the Greek verb teleō (τελέω), meaning to complete, accomplish, fulfill, or bring something to its intended goal.
Friends, Jesus wasn’t announcing defeat. On the contrary, He was announcing completion.
The sacrifice was accepted.
The debt was paid.
The work was accomplished.
The mission was fulfilled.
What is extraordinary is not simply what He said, it is what He did not say. He did not say humanity was beyond saving. He did not say the world was beyond redemption. He did not say the nations were hopeless.
While humanity actively crucified Him, He completed the work necessary for humanity’s redemption. Therefore, the Cross becomes the ultimate refutation of abandonment.
Do you see it? Jesus, the Son of the Living God, responded to our rebellion with redemption, not abandonment.
The Missionary Heart of the Great Commission
Tetelestai means redemption has been accomplished. The Great Commission means redemption must now be announced.
After His resurrection, Jesus declared: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations.” — Matthew 28:19.
The word translated nations is the Greek word ethnē (ἔθνη). It refers not only to individuals but also to peoples, tribes, cultures, ethnic groups, and nations.
This dramatically changes the scope of the Commission. Jesus did not command the Church to gather converts; He commanded the Church to make disciples of all peoples.
Entire peoples.
Entire cultures.
Entire nations.
This presents an unavoidable question: How can we effectively disciple a people we secretly despise? How can we evangelize a culture we resent?
How can we obey Matthew 28 while celebrating the decline of the very nation God has assigned us to reach?
It has been said, “You cannot effectively disciple what you refuse to love.” The missionary heart has always understood this. The great missionaries learned languages because they loved people. They crossed oceans because they loved people. They embraced cultures because they loved people.
The fuel of the mission has never been about obligation; it has always been affection.
The Gospels reveal this repeatedly. When Jesus beheld the multitudes, Matthew tells us that He was moved with compassion.
The word is splagchnizomai (σπλαγχνίζομαι). It speaks of being moved in the deepest recesses of one’s being.
A profound inward mercy.
A holy affection.
A divine ache.
Jesus saw sheep without a shepherd. He saw confusion, suffering, and rebellion.
And He loved them anyway. You see, Jesus’ compassion sustained His mission. His affection fueled His outreach. His mercy drove evangelism.
This explains why bitterness is so spiritually destructive. Paul uses the Greek word pikria (πικρία) to describe bitterness in Ephesians 4:31. It refers to a sharp, sour, resentful disposition of the soul.
Bitterness changes how a person sees authority.
Bitterness changes how a person sees history.
Bitterness changes how a person sees responsibility.
And, eventually, bitterness changes how a person sees people.
A bitter heart may critique a nation, but it rarely redeems one. This is why Jesus wept over Jerusalem. Luke records that as Jesus approached the city, He looked upon it and wept.
The Greek word is klaio (κλαίω). It means to sob, lament, or mourn aloud.
Jesus looked upon a city that would reject Him and destroy itself through unbelief. And He wept.
He saw corruption. He saw blindness. He saw judgment. Yet He wept.
That is not nationalism, that is redemptive grief. Never doubt, love sees flaws clearly, but it refuses to abandon what it sees.
The Great Commission demands more than theological correctness; it demands movement. “Go ye…”
Jesus commanded His disciples to GO!
The underlying Greek verb poreuomai (πορεύομαι) means to journey, proceed, travel, or move forward.
The Church was never commissioned to sit in sanctified complaint, but to move.
Go to the city.
Go to the neighborhood.
Go to the school.
Go to the marketplace.
Go to the nation.
Go to the peoples.
The Church is sent; she is not stationary. The Church is commissioned; she is not cynical.
Paul instructed Timothy that prayers, supplications, intercessions, and thanksgiving were to be offered for kings and all who are in authority.
Remarkably, Paul wrote those words while living under imperial Rome. Not a Christian republic, nor a biblical government, but Imperial Rome. Yet the Apostle still believed that prayer was more productive than cynicism; intercession more powerful than complaint.
You see, our hope is to be more fruitful than resentment.
The Patriot’s Commission
The early Church understood that witness begins where God plants us. Acts 1:8 reveals the pattern.
Jerusalem.
Judaea.
Samaria.
The uttermost parts of the earth.
The word witness is martys (μάρτυς). A witness bears evidence. A witness testifies. A witness demonstrates reality.
People Rarely Sacrifice For What They Despise
Notice that the first field assigned was not foreign; it was home.
Jerusalem came before the nations. This means that loving one’s nation, one’s city, one’s community, and one’s people is not a distraction from mission, but the starting point of the mission.
The Christian patriot, then, does not worship a nation, but rather, he refuses to abandon the people God has assigned him to love.
He understands the Hebrew concept of tiqvah (תִּקְוָה). Hope. Expectation. A cord stretched toward a future redemption.
Hope builds churches.
Hope plants schools.
Hope sends missionaries.
Hope disciples nations.
Hope prays for cities.
Hope refuses surrender.
Standing among those who gathered in Constitution City, I was reminded once again that nations are transformed by those who love them enough to serve them.
Lord, Send Me To My People
The Gospel itself teaches us that nations are transformed by those who love them enough to serve them.
For while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. He did not abandon the world; He redeemed it.
Tetelestai.
The work of redemption is finished. Matthew 28 remains. The work of discipleship continues.
The nations still wait.
The cities still groan.
The people still wander as sheep without a shepherd.
And the Church remains God’s chosen instrument through which the hope of redemption is carried into the world.
Therefore, the question before us is not whether America is worthy of our labor. The Cross settled that question long ago. The question is whether we love the people among whom God has placed us enough to serve them. Do we love the people of America enough to pray for them, disciple them, sacrifice for them, and believe that redemption is still possible for them?
And that work requires people who possess enough gratitude to serve, enough courage to build, enough faith to believe, enough compassion to love, and enough hope to declare:
“Lord, here am I, send me.”
The first field of stewardship is the people God has already placed around us!
— Wendell Hutchins II
