Inside the Movement That Changed American Faith

A Personal Reflection

Nearly twenty years ago, I was in Hamilton, Alabama, listening to Lou Engle discuss the Seven Mountains Mandate. What is now mainstream Christian Nationalism was then just a movement in what felt like the middle of America. I had driven up from South Florida with a group of friends from my youth group. It’s an understatement to say we felt out of place among hundreds of white people.

We experienced everything from waitresses refusing to serve us to someone actually telling us to “go back to Mexico,” even though none of us were Mexican. Still, we pushed forward in our mission to receive the word of God. We were there to learn so we could bring that knowledge back to our church in Miami. We wanted to be part of something bigger than ourselves. We wanted to feel chosen.

The Seven Mountain Mandate encourages Christians to influence seven key areas of society: family, religion, education, media, arts and entertainment, business, and government. It promotes theocracy and essentially, white Christian supremacy. It teaches that to see the Kingdom of God here in America, Christians must hold power in these areas. It sounds empowering when you’re in a packed room of believers, hands raised, music playing, and tears flowing. It feels like a call to action. But when you look closer, it’s really a call to control.

Back then, I didn’t fully grasp the complexity or the deceit behind it all. I was young and passionate, convinced I was part of a divine army. After Engle spoke, we heard from a dynamic preacher named Damon Thompson. He was charismatic, knowledgeable, and convincing. He also didn’t fit the typical image of a preacher. He had long hair, an unkempt beard, and dressed as if he were on his way to buy cigarettes. The entire event, called The Ramp, was led by founder Karen Wheaton and their youth drama group. It was filled with music, dance, fire, and tears. Everything felt like a revival.

I wish I could capture in writing what I felt while I was there. The room buzzed with energy. Whether it was high emotions or a shared illusion, it felt like the Holy Spirit was present, like God was there. I felt motivated to return to South Florida and create a Ramp-like atmosphere in our church. I shared the story of our trip with enthusiasm while conveniently skipping over the racism and hostility. Those details became minor footnotes in my retelling. What mattered most was that I felt God, or at least something I believed was God.

Looking back now, I see how much of it was emotional manipulation disguised as spiritual awakening. I believe the people there were sincere. They truly believed they were advancing the Kingdom of God. But the theology behind it was flawed. It planted seeds that have grown into what we now see in mainstream Christian Nationalism, a mix of faith and politics, an obsession with control, and an idolization of power. It’s strange to see leaders like Lou Engle, whom I encountered in the middle of nowhere twenty years ago, now at the center of national conversations. The radical takeover of the “Seven Mountains” is happening right before our eyes.

For a long time, I struggled with my experience there. I didn’t want to believe that what I felt wasn’t genuine. I didn’t want to dismiss the sincerity of my younger self or the people who worshipped next to me. But I’ve learned that strong emotions aren’t always the truth. You can feel something deeply and still be wrong. Movements like The Ramp offered belonging wrapped in purpose. They said, “You are chosen. You have a mission.” When you’re young and searching for meaning, there’s almost nothing more intoxicating.

I now see how easy it is for people to get caught up in these systems. The same desire that pulled me in twenty years ago still draws others today. The promise of purpose. The illusion of clarity. The comfort of believing you’re on the “right side” of history and of God. But faith isn’t about controlling others. It’s about serving them. It’s about humility, not dominance.

When I think back on that trip, I don’t feel anger. I feel a mix of sadness and gratitude. Sadness for how easily we were seduced by the idea of “taking over” for God. Gratitude for the perspective that comes with time. It’s strange to realize that what felt like a spiritual awakening was actually an introduction to a political ideology. I see now how unbiblical it is to try to serve two kingdoms or, even worse, impose Christian beliefs on everyone.

Sometimes I miss that feeling of being part of something big and meaningful. That sense of unity. That collective hope. But I’ve learned that faith doesn’t need to be loud to be real. It doesn’t need lights or stages or declarations of cultural conflict. It can be found in quiet moments of kindness, in learning, in choosing empathy over control, and even in doubt. I no longer want to conquer mountains. I just want to climb them, look around, and understand the view.

Faith, when freed from the need for dominance, becomes something different. It becomes human and divine. It becomes gentle and steady. It becomes something you live, rather than something you impose. I wish someone had told me that twenty years ago, sitting in that packed auditorium in Hamilton, Alabama. Maybe I wouldn’t have listened then. But I’m listening now.

Thanks for reading.

This is part of an ongoing series addressing Christian Nationalism and its dangerous grasp on America.

Related Reading:

Somewhere Between God and Country

Other links:

Lou Engle Preaches Seven Mountains Dominionism (YouTube)

Damon Thompson at The Ramp (YouTube)

Seven Mountain Mandate (Wikipedia)

The Ramp (Website)

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