I am a born Evangelical. Not “born again,” but born into, and raised in, the faith. For the first eighteen years of my life, it was my firm foundation, my solid rock.
All of that abruptly changed, one dark night of the soul. To my dismay, I could no longer honestly convince myself that everything I had been brought up believing was actually true. The mental contortions required made me feel like a fraud. I had to find another path, one that made sense and felt authentic to me.
That traumatic collapse of my belief system happened years ago. Now, in 2020, I am suffering a second loss of Evangelical faith nearly as dispiriting as the first.
But this time, my disillusionment is not with the beliefs, but the believers.
Since we parted ways, my view of the Evangelical community has been as follows: I may frequently disagree with them, but I respect their integrity and conscientious striving to live by their principles, to “talk the talk and walk the walk.”
Not anymore. My final vestige of Evangelical faith has crumbled.
Based on the witness of their collective words and actions, I’m no longer sure what my former brethren in faith really believe, with one exception:
Evangelicals believe in Donald Trump — a man who lives in flagrant, shameless contradiction of their own stated Biblical values.
Let me be perfectly clear; Evangelical Christianity is not monolithic. My comments are directed at my own particular subculture: white, English-speaking, native US citizens. Even there, support for Donald Trump is not universal. For example, at Liberty University, until recently the dominion of Trump’s foremost Evangelical supporter, there has been strong dissent. But these exceptions prove the rule.
The doctrine of the Seven Deadly Sins (Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, and Pride) is not stated in the Bible, nor officially embraced by Evangelicalism. Yet is is beyond dispute that these things are repugnant to any true follower of Christ. Whereas the Fruits of the Holy Spirit (Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self-Control), articulated by the Apostle Paul in Galatians 5:22-23, are promoted ubiquitously in Evangelical teachings.
Donald Trump projects Wrath and Pride daily via Twitter. Study his record; words and deeds redolent of Greed, Envy, Lust, and more, crop up again and again.
By contrast, how can any honest, God-fearing person argue that Trump successfully role models the Fruits of the Spirit — like Patience, Kindness, or Gentleness?
Consider these words of Jesus Christ, which I have heard from the pulpit more times than I can recall:
“Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. Ye shall know them by their fruits. […] A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit.” — Matthew 7:15-20
Some Evangelicals dismiss Trump’s troubling behavior by citing Biblical figures like King David: a sinner beloved by God.
Yes, David committed egregious transgressions. But here’s the key distinction: David repented. Donald Trump shows no signs of repentance. His admissions of even glaringly obvious but trivial mistakes — never mind wrongdoing — are vanishingly rare.
Growing up, I was taught to insist on sound moral character in leaders, to have zero tolerance for dishonesty, to loathe hypocrisy, and hold transactional “the end justifies the means” calculation in contempt. Moral compromise for political advantage was considered a literal deal with the Devil. In the words of the Apostle (Mark 8:36), “For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, but lose his soul?”
These sentiments continue to resonate with me. I thought this was one thing I still had in common with Evangelicals. The evidence suggests that I was woefully naive.
The 2016 Republican primaries included multiple candidates presenting as credible people of faith, whose words, actions, and demeanor were at least passably consistent with Christian values. Several had solid track records of honorable public service. Among Evangelical voters, Trump was a very close second to Ted Cruz, and their strong support helped push him over the top.
Since Trump took office, Evangelical support has remained steadfast and largely uncritical. The prophet Micah, gadfly to the kings of Judah, famously stated, “What doth the Lord require of thee but to do justly and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” (Micah 6:8). Are (1) twisting the law for criminally-convicted associates, (2) taking refugee children away from their parents, or (3) engaging in unrelenting self-praise consistent with either the letter or spirit of this passage?
On such matters, objections from the Evangelical community have been muted at best. In fact, polling shows that, regarding family separation at the US border (the very thought of which makes me ill), support is significantly stronger among Evangelicals than in the general population.
Meanwhile, Evangelicals’ loudest outcry has focused on Trump’s use of profanity. Substantive efforts to hold him accountable to Christian standards — if any — have been practically invisible, and demonstrably ineffective. Where is the Micah, or Nathan, who dares admonish the king and bring him under conviction? I doubt his name is Pence, Graham, or Falwell.
I have to wonder how long this glaring contradiction between core Evangelical values, and unwavering support for a man who habitually violates them, can persist. These moral principles are so unambiguous, so firmly rooted in doctrine, so starkly and uncompromisingly stated in the Biblical text.
I don’t want to believe that I come from a culture rife with hypocrisy and cynicism; the possibility makes me heartsick. But with every passing day and election cycle, that conclusion feels increasingly inescapable.
Imagine the perspective of those from other backgrounds, and less sympathetically inclined. Imagine the impact on their receptiveness to Evangelicals’ witness concerning the Gospel.
In the midst of life’s tumult, and the strident hysteria of the twenty-four hour news cycle, discerning what is right, true, and just can be extremely difficult; acting accordingly, even harder. Contradicting the loudly-voiced opinions of one’s acquaintances, family, congregation, etc., is daunting. I know. I’ve been there.
But if you call yourself a Christian, and everyone you know says one thing, but the plainly-stated words of Christ say the opposite… Well, shouldn’t that occasion a modicum of introspection, at the very least?
I hope that Evangelicals can find it in their hearts to tune out the noise, listen to that still small voice reminding them of what they already know, and honestly consider the cost of their allegiances.