The ongoing dissolution of the liberal status quo has presented conservatives with a unique opportunity to grow their ranks and redefine American culture.

While some reckon the successful way forward for conservative populists would be "Machiavellian means," they may be better served looking farther back than the Florentine Republic for role models — to those who first spread, protected, and died for the foundation of much of what now needs to be conserved: the early Christians.

After all, the early Christian movement appears to have enjoyed explosive growth in the first few centuries after the Resurrection — reportedly from an estimated 1,397 souls in the Roman Empire around 50 AD to over 31 million in 350 AD (with growth projected at an annual rate of 3.4%), and from an estimated 0.15% of the city of Rome’s population in the year 100 AD to roughly 66.2% in the year 300 — while the institutions, temples, and regimes of their contemporaries largely fell into neglect or ruin.

There are innumerable reasons, both spiritual and secular, why the teachings of Jesus Christ did not, as historian Paul Johnson put it, "become nothing more than the hallmarks of a Jewish sect, doomed to be submerged in the mainstream of an ancient creed."

In "The Everlasting Man," the great Christian apologist G.K. Chesterton, mulling over the church's success and spread, concluded that it must have "come forth out of the mind of God, mature and mighty and armed for judgment and for war," confronting the world with "something more human than humanity."

Since the conservative movement doesn’t exactly have that going for it — Christ did not, after all, directly tell Burke, Kirk, or other exponents that the gates of hell would not prevail against their multifaith socio-political cause — it is worthwhile looking instead at what can be replicated.

In his accounting for the triumph of the early Christians, the late sociologist of religion Rodney Stark of Baylor University detailed some interesting behaviors and views that won people to their cause and galvanized the faithful.

Some of these behaviors and views are already — or still — benefiting and distinguishing the conservative movement. Others should be considered.

The Christians converted and transcended the Roman Empire, spreading the faith to the far ends of the world, in part owing to their:

• appeals to women;
• fecundity and opposition to abortion;
• ministry to the sick, pagan and Christian alike;
• defiance and perseverance in the face of public persecution and brutal repression;
• provision to prospective converts the opportunity to preserve their religious capital and maintain cultural continuity; and their
• moral stability and corresponding superior quality of life.

The appeal of the Christian movement to women — something Johnson similarly noted in "A History of Christianity" — was manifold and essential to conversion, particularly since men were frequently brought into the church by the women in their lives. (Peter’s and Paul’s acceptance of intermarriage helped to further this trend.)

What's more, Stark noted that Christian women "often held leadership roles in the church and enjoyed far greater security and equality in marriage" than their heathen counterparts; wedded later than others; could not be discarded via divorce lest their husbands come to shame and be branded as adulterers; and had more sex in their married lives.

Also, since the abortion widespread at the time, executed with "unsanitary and crude methods," was not permissible among Christians, the health prospects for Christian women were much better. Meanwhile, pagan women who were frequently forced into abortion by their husbands not only faced an increased risk of mortality but of infertility later in life as well in the event that they survived.

"In the midst of the squalor, misery, illness, and anonymity of ancient cities, Christianity provided an island of mercy and security," wrote Stark.

This was apparently as true for the sick and needy as it was for women and the unborn.

Roman and other elites are said to have isolated as plagues and sicknesses surged through their cities.

Bishop Dionysius observed this tendency in Alexandria: "At the first onset of the disease, they [pagans] pushed the sufferers away and fled from their dearest, throwing them into the roads before they were dead and treated unburied corpses as dirty, hoping thereby to avert the spread and contagion of the fatal disease."

Christians, on the other hand, apparently nursed pagans as well as their own ill — as they were called to do.

Cyprian, the bishop of Carthage, said of the second great plague, "Although this mortality has contributed nothing else, it has especially accomplished this for Christians and servants of God, that we have begun gladly to seek martyrdom while we are learning not to fear death. They are trying exercises for us, not deaths; they give to the mind the glory of fortitude; by contempt of death they prepare for the crown."

As a result of this disposition and thinking, "Christians as a group would have enjoyed a far superior survival rate" during the plagues, according to Stark.

The appeal of membership in a hardy group that would not lock down the healthy, spurn the sick, or deny help to outsiders, coupled with the Christians’ vast expansion of the charitable trusts of the Jewish Diaspora, appears to have won many converts to their cause, observers and survivors alike.

While Tertullian noted, "It was the Christian spirit of mutual love and communal charity which most impressed pagans," fortitude also served to impress and convert would-be foes.

Christians have been met with persecution unceasingly throughout these past two millennia, most recently and savagely by atheistic regimes, but the early centuries were particularly brutal.

For instance, Stark details how during "the summer of the year 64, the emperor Nero sometimes lit up his garden at night by setting fire to a few fully conscious Christians who had been covered with wax and then impaled high on poles forced up their rectums."

The Roman historian Tacitus indicated the emperor "inflicted the most exquisite tortures on a class hated for their abominations, called Christians by the populace."

The horrors the early Christians were subjected to most definitely backfired, serving instead to unify, galvanize, and bolster their credibility. Every martyr slain in the Flavian Amphitheater, every mass bloodied in the catacombs, and every other act of defiance advertised the strength of their convictions, the Christian threat to the pagan status quo, and the insecurity of their persecutors.

Galen, the Roman Greek physician of antiquity, reportedly wrote of the Christians in the second century that "their contempt of death … is patent to us every day."

While not every Christian stood firm, enough did.

"The pagan onlookers knew full well that they would not endure such tribulations for their religion. Why would so many Christians do so? Were they missing something about this strange new faith?" wrote Stark. "This sort of unease and wonderment often paved the way for new conversions."

The Lutheran sociologist suggested that while Christianity was attractive for these and other reasons, a concern for any convert was the desire to "conserve their religious capital" — to enjoy some cultural continuity.

Whereas prospective converts amongst the Jewish Diaspora would have had to give up most if not all of their religious and cultural capital to join various pagan sects, "Christianity offered Diasporan Jews a chance to preserve virtually all of their religious capital, needing only to add to it."

Additive beliefs, as opposed to alternate beliefs, may have helped prospective converts along by leaving them with a feeling of gain as opposed to loss.

Those willing to take a much deeper dive would undoubtedly find countless more takeaways from the history of the early church and its successes, but we already have here something more compelling than the deceitful utilitarianism and callous weighting of love and fear others appear to think worthwhile.

To grow the conservative movement, it is critical to model attractive behavior, which entails bravery in the face of persecution, perseverance in the face of suffering, faith in the face of uncertainty, and mercy in the face of misery.

While an absolute contempt for death may not be necessary, a willing acceptance of risk and rejection similarly strengthens resolve and credibility — just as cowardice alternatively weakens and repulses. Conservatives hoping to inspire others to join their cause should be known for their preference of consequence over dishonor and truth over comfortable lies.

What’s more — and this is a lesson the pandemic taught us: if we cannot or prove unwilling to conserve liberty, tradition, and our proud cultural inheritance in the face of adversity, then we demonstrate that we were never really serious. Those red-state leaders who proved willing in recent years happen to be the same who converted and attracted multitudes.

Stark suggested that contrary to the atheist’s contention that Christianity is all "pie in the sky," the early Christians put the "pie on the table." Similarly, the good that conservatives seek to conserve should be tangible, proudly displayed, and protected.

The conservative movement has long welcomed and been driven by women. Now, to further distinguish itself from the opposition — which regards men and women as interchangeable — the movement would do well to continue to celebrate womanhood; embrace the complementarity between women and men; look to their differences for shared advantage; disfavor no-fault divorce; take measures to bolster marriage and the family; raise boys to be respectful and capable potential partners, rather than the impotent, drugged, and nonthreatening drones the opposition prefers; and reinforce parental rights.

Finally, enabling prospective converts to maintain their cultural capital when coming aboard is something the conservative movement does well, but as with anything, could do better.

Last year, over 1 million voters across 43 states switched to the Republican Party. In recent weeks and months, many high-profile Democrats have done likewise. While the crossover may not be as seamless as Stark figured the turn from one Abrahamic religion to another might have been, to recognize their pasts as valuable — not something to be renounced or regretted — would likely make the transition appear less costly.

Some movements attempt to convert with the sword and/or with intimidation. Americans, regardless of their political affiliation, don’t like being told what to do, and most are ready with an ideological riposte. Despite this combative verve, they are keen observers.

Accordingly, if the conservative movement has a clear value proposition, demonstrates that value, is unapologetic about its aims, and puts the "pie on the table" for prospective converts to see while making it easy to consume, then it will grow its ranks, God willing. Perhaps not by 3.4% year over year, but enough to put the nation back on course.

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