Why Early Christianity Didn’t Legislate Morality

“And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.” — Ezekiel 36:26

The accusation often made by modern atheists is that Christians are eager to impose their morality on everyone through legislation. It’s a catchy claim—and one repeated so often online that it seems to go unchallenged. But when examined historically, philosophically, and logically, the accusation unravels quickly. Christianity began, not with a political platform, but with a crucified Messiah. The earliest Christians had no cultural power, no seats in government, and no armies to enforce their morality. And yet, Christianity spread like wildfire. Why? Because the message changed hearts, and changed hearts began to shape societies—from the inside out.

Christianity Blossomed Without Power

From the time of Nero to Constantine, Christians were a persecuted minority, often seen as a threat to Roman order. Far from imposing morality, they were on the receiving end of violence, mockery, and exclusion. As historian Larry Hurtado writes:

“The remarkable thing about early Christianity is that it attracted adherents despite facing social costs… not because it offered them power or influence.”¹

No Christian in the first three centuries could pass laws reflecting their moral code—they weren’t in power. What they could do was live with such compassion, conviction, and courage that pagan Rome couldn’t help but take notice. As Tertullian famously said: *“The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.”*²

In other words, Christianity didn’t transform the world by legislation—but by demonstration.

Changed People Change Laws

What happens when large numbers of people come to faith? Their values begin to show up in their homes, their communities, and eventually their legal systems. That’s not “imposing morality”; that’s cultural transformation.

C.S. Lewis put it well when he said:

“A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line.”³

The early Christians didn’t lobby for laws—they lived the straight line. And when enough people saw its beauty, it began to influence Roman norms. The exposure and rejection of infanticide, the value of women, the dignity of the poor—these weren’t legal victories at first. They were the fruit of Christian witness.

As sociologist Rodney Stark has documented, Christian care during plagues, their sexual ethics, and their radically inclusive community drew people toward faith.⁴ Only much later did some of those values become enshrined in law—not through force, but through consensus born of conviction.

What About Today?

Atheists often claim Christians are forcing their views on others when they vote for policies informed by their faith. But in a democratic society, everyone votes based on their values. The question isn’t whether values shape laws—it’s which values and whose values.

Ironically, many secularists have no issue with promoting laws based on their own worldview: from abortion access to gender policy in schools to censorship of dissenting opinions. Sam Harris, a leading atheist, advocates for science-based morality that can determine what human flourishing looks like—and believes governments should implement it.⁵ In other words, he wants his moral framework to shape the law. That’s not neutrality. That’s a competing morality.

So when Christians are accused of trying to impose their views, we might ask: Is it really about imposition—or is it about opposition to a competing worldview?

The Myth of Moral Neutrality

There’s no such thing as a morally neutral society. Laws are inherently moral. Every legal system assumes something about human dignity, freedom, obligation, and harm. When an atheist says, “Keep your morality out of politics,” they’re really saying, “Replace it with mine.”

Tim Keller noted:

“Everyone wants to ‘legislate morality.’ The only question is: Whose morality is it going to be?”⁶

It’s not about whether laws reflect morality—it’s whether they reflect a morality grounded in eternal truth or shifting preferences.

A Final Thought for Part One

Christianity changed the Roman world not because it controlled the system, but because it convinced hearts. And any worldview worth following should do the same. If Christianity had merely passed laws without changed hearts, it would have died like any other political movement. But it lived—because Jesus did.

We’ll explore the modern secular double standard in Part Two, but for now, let this challenge remain:

If you object to Christians voting based on their convictions, do you object to everyone else doing the same—or just them?

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Endnotes
¹ Larry Hurtado, Destroyer of the Gods: Early Christian Distinctiveness in the Roman World (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2016).
² Tertullian, Apologeticus, c. 197 AD.
³ C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (New York: HarperOne, 2001), 45.
⁴ Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997).
⁵ Sam Harris, The Moral Landscape: How Science Can Determine Human Values (New York: Free Press, 2010).
⁶ Timothy Keller, The Reason for God (New York: Penguin Books, 2008), 153.