“Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people.” That Bible verse, found in Proverbs 14:34, is not a political slogan. It is a moral law of history. Nations rise when justice, truth, humility, courage, and reverence for God shape their public life. They decline when sin becomes normalized, truth is considered subjective, and liberty is severed from biblical virtue.
The founders of America understood this better than we realize.
After the Revolutionary War, George Washington wrote to the governors of the thirteen states and prayed that God would dispose Americans “to do justice, to love mercy,” and to imitate the charity, humility, and peaceable spirit of “the Divine Author of our blessed Religion.” Without that, Washington said, “we can never hope to be a happy nation.”[1]
In his first inaugural address, Washington acknowledged “the Invisible Hand” that had guided the United States. He warned that “the propitious smiles of Heaven” could never be expected to shine on a nation that disregarded “the eternal rules of order and right, which Heaven itself has ordained”—referring to the Bible.[2]
John Adams made the same point in different words. He believed the Bible contained “the most perfect morality” and was the only system capable of preserving a republic.[3]
Long before Washington and Adams, a Puritan pastor named Thomas Hooker helped shape America’s political imagination. In 1633, Hooker became pastor of a congregation near Cambridge, Massachusetts, and later helped establish Hartford, Connecticut. Studying Deuteronomy 1:13, where Moses instructed Israel to choose wise and understanding leaders, Hooker concluded that civil leaders should be chosen by the people. “The choice of public magistrates belongs unto the people by God’s own allowance,” he preached. “The foundation of authority is laid, firstly, in the free consent of the people.”[4]
Those ideas created the climate that led to the Fundamental Orders of Connecticut, often regarded as the first written constitution in the American colonies with a democratic tone. It is one reason Connecticut is still known as the Constitution State.
Another biblical text shaped the debate over liberty and authority—Romans 13:1, which teaches that governing authorities are instituted by God. On January 30, 1750, Jonathan Mayhew preached a sermon based on this verse titled A Discourse Concerning Unlimited Submission and Non-Resistance to the High Powers. He taught that government is accountable to God. When rulers fulfill their God-given role, they deserve respect and obedience. But when they become tyrants and oppressors, they violate the purpose for which government exists.[5]
John Adams later called Mayhew’s sermon “the catechism of the Revolution.” It gave many colonists a biblical framework for understanding resistance to tyranny.
Then came prayer. In September 1774, delegates gathered in Philadelphia for the First Continental Congress. Before beginning their work, they agreed to open in prayer and invited Jacob Duché, an Anglican pastor, to lead them. The previous evening, a frightening rumor had spread that British forces were shelling Boston. As Washington, Adams, Hancock, Henry, and others gathered in Carpenter’s Hall, Duché read the appointed Scripture reading for the day—Psalm 35: “Plead my cause, O LORD, with those who strive with me; fight against those who fight against me.”
John Adams later wrote to Abigail that he had never heard a better prayer. It seemed, he said, as though Heaven had ordained that Psalm for that morning.[6]
The American Revolution was not only fought on battlefields. It was also interpreted from pulpits. After the shots at Lexington and Concord, Pastor Jonas Clark looked to Joel 3, where God condemns the shedding of innocent blood. Seven members of his congregation had died near the church at Lexington. Their blood, he believed, testified to the seriousness of the hour. Clark reminded his people that however dark events appeared, God still ruled over nations. “An all-wise God is seated on the throne,” he said. That conviction steadied Americans through perilous days.[7]
When victory came at Yorktown, another biblical text came to the forefront. On October 20, 1781, the day after Cornwallis surrendered, chaplain Israel Evans preached to the American troops from 1 Samuel 7:12: “Hitherto the LORD has helped us.” Like Samuel raising his Ebenezer stone after victory, Evans called the army to remember that their help had come from God. America, he said, should learn her happiness as a nation from dependence on Almighty God.[8]
Winning independence was one thing. Framing a government was another. In 1787, the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia seemed near collapse. At that moment, Benjamin Franklin, then eighty-one, rose and asked why they had not sought the help of “the Father of Lights.”
“I have lived, sir, a long time,” Franklin said, “and the longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this truth, that God governs in the affairs of men.” He cited Psalm 127:1: “Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it.”[9]
His motion for prayer did not formally pass, but the words hung over the convention. A few days later, Washington led delegates to a prayer service. Eventually, the Constitution emerged with its opening words: “We the People.”
James Madison later reflected that it was impossible for a thoughtful believer not to perceive in those events “a finger of that Almighty Hand.”[10]
Proverbs 14:34 contains both promise and warning: “Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people.” That truth applies to nations, but it also applies to individuals. Perhaps that is why my final story belongs not to a battlefield or convention hall, but to a deathbed. Alexander Hamilton, mortally wounded in his duel with Aaron Burr, asked for Christian counsel and communion. Presbyterian pastor John Mason spoke to him of Christ, quoting Acts 4:12: “There is salvation in no one else.”
Hamilton replied, “I have a tender reliance on the mercy of the Almighty, through the merits of the Lord Jesus Christ.” Before receiving communion from Bishop Benjamin Moore, Hamilton renounced his sins and embraced Christ his Savior. His last words to his wife were, “Remember, my Eliza, you are a Christian.”[11]
America’s hope has never rested ultimately in presidents, armies, constitutions, courts, or elections. These are not enough. The deeper question is moral and spiritual. Can a people remain free without righteousness? Can liberty endure without virtue? Can any nation disregard God’s eternal rules of order and right and still expect the smiles of Heaven?
Let me go back to my opening verse: “Righteousness exalts a nation. Sin is a reproach to any people.” No matter how advanced we may feel we are, we can never escape the truth of that ancient proverb.
