What Christians Might Fear from Trump

Remember: Trump doesn’t do coalitions

So Donald Trump has started selling Bibles. And he now opens his rallies with a short video called God Made Trump—which makes for a pretty brassy campaign pledge. 

These moves have brought out great fears and great scorn among secular Americans. Among evangelicals opposed to or just neutral on Trump, however, the prospect of another Trump term is often met with indifference. As a white Christian told me, a Trump victory means Trump will do bad stuff, but to other people: “Whatever happens, it probably won’t affect me.” 

Indeed, one of the most common and least convincing arguments made to evangelicals is that defeating Trump is about protecting other people: Trump’s wrath will be focused on his enemies, whom Trump claims “live like vermin” and will be rooted out once he returns to office. (A Trump campaign aide affirmed of his “snowflake” opponents that when Trump returns to office “their entire existence will be crushed.”)

But evangelicals are not among Trump’s enemies—and therefore, the pitch to American evangelicals often asks them to act to protect other people: immigrants, Jews, Hispanics, Muslims.

This is a valid argument, but it begins with a false assumption: There would be no other reason for a conservative, bible-believing Christian to oppose Trump—or at least no reason for them to worry that another Trump presidency might hurt the church.

But is there in fact no reason to worry? Is thoroughgoing allegiance to a single political leader, especially one as volatile as Trump, a risk for the church? 

True, Trump does not think Christians are snowflakes—now. But the list of Trump enthusiasts and allies who were abruptly thrown from power is vast: Speaker Kevin McCarthy. Cabinet Secretary Elaine Chao. Vice President Mike Pence. All of these leaders affirmed and received Trump’s support. And when he tired of them, or read a Tweet complaining about them, they were gone. Not just gone, but mocked and derided.

Anyone in Trump’s good graces is there until he tires of them, or until they object to one of his manifold desires. Pence is primarily known as a Christian politician. When he chose not to violate the Constitution on January 6, Trump abandoned him and a pro-Trump mob threatened to hang him. That is precisely the extent to which evangelicals can rely on the Trump alliance.

The caustic effect of the Trump alliance has also begun to seep into the church. The Southern Baptist Convention has faced an internal divide from the Conservative Baptist Network, which alleges that the SBC has become too “woke” because it acknowledged that racism is a problem and sexual abuse in the churches needs to be addressed. The CBN in 2021 adopted a “pirate”-themed campaign to win the presidency of the SBC. Pirates are not really known as being Christian (except maybe in an episode of Veggie Tales). 

More recently, a second group has emerged within the SBC—the Center for Baptist Leadership, which openly proclaims that Baptists need to embrace Christian nationalism. The Center for Baptist Leadership is led by William Wolfe, who is not a pastor. He was instead a senior adviser for the Trump White House. The political arm of conservatism is openly walking into the spiritual body of the church and demanding acquiescence. 

The corrosion seeps right into the gospel. Former SBC president Russell Moore related the tale of a parishioner criticizing a sermon about the need to “turn the other cheek.” When the pastor gently reminded his Christian friend that those were the actual words of Jesus, the reply was: “That doesn’t work anymore.” 

What will be the price of loyalty? If the church jettisons the words of Christ, what is it?  

As American evangelicals look out over a sea of public polarization and increasing secularism, not to mention a significant movement of Americans out of the church altogether, some will see hope in the idea of politicizing the church—having allies at the very top who can enforce religious decrees to save what’s left. 

Yet this dependence on political leaders for power and authority is a trap. It allows the church to become merely another vector for political positions and loyalties. The church of Christ becomes nothing more than a collection of like-minded individuals seeking political change. It will become another MoveOn.org. 

That is not what the Church of Christ is. It is not what the church is for. The Church exists to proclaim the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It exists to bring good news to sinners. It exists to announce God’s love to tax collectors, the poor, prostitutes, and all people. It exists to help broken people live in a broken world through the grace and power of Jesus Christ. 

What evangelicals might well fear from Trump is a second term in which he will trade all of that in for political victories. Trumpism is already moving evangelicalism away from a church that prays and makes decisions around the Bible, gathered together as witnesses to Christ, and towards a church that listens to talking points and social media. 

What evangelicals might fear from Trump is that those outside the movement will see the cruelty of Trump’s style and his disregard for truth becoming normative in churches and walk even further away from the church. The Great Commission will be damaged. 

What evangelicals might fear from Trump is that those within the church will be silenced by the most loyal Trumpists. This too is already under way: There is a core of committed, conservative evangelical Christians fighting for a (truly) better America. And there is the 15% of Americans who believe that the U.S. government is hiding a satanic pedophile wing. If you are one of the former, you need to know that if Trump wins, you will be working for the latter. You will not be working with them; you will be working for them. They are the only ones who never wavered in support of Trump, and Trump does not do coalitions. 

The Trump alliance is caustic for the church. And for evangelical Christians, that means that Trump does threaten them—for he threatens the church itself.    

Adam Jortner is the Goodwin-Philpott Professor of History at Auburn University, and the author of Audible’s anniversary series, The Hidden History of the Boston Tea Party.