How should we then engage? [1/3]

Part 1: Trump and the Polarization of the Church

Above, you see a screenshot of what Google returned when I typed in the word, “evangelicals.” Not “evangelicals and the gospel,” not “evangelicals and Jesus”—but “evangelicals and Trump” and “evangelicals against Trump.”

It’s a small snapshot of a much larger issue: Christian public witness has become ruthlessly entangled in political identity. Before the world even asks what we believe, they want to know how we voted—and how we feel about one man.

And that man isn’t Jesus.

Friends, this is a colossal problem.

And it’s more than a branding issue or a PR crisis. When faith becomes fused with political power, the gospel—our one, essential message—is eclipsed by ideology.

This isn’t just about shedding a label like “evangelical” in favor of something newer, trendier, or less worn out. If the discourse surrounding our identity as evangelicals is no longer centered on the evangel—the good news—but instead rises and falls on our opinion of the President, whoever he may be, then we haven’t just drifted.

We’ve lost something essential.

It’s time to reckon with how we got here—and to ask how we, as Christians, can engage our world thoughtfully, truthfully, and faithfully. In a way where Christ—not Caesar—is once again the focus.

The Great Divider

Whatever else history may say about President Donald Trump, one thing is certain: he has been one of the most polarizing figures in modern American life, and possibly even in all of American history. It seems there’s no middle ground around this man. He is either unequivocally hated or unconditionally adored—either our savior or the embodiment of the anti-Christ. Either he can do no good, or he can do no wrong.

Emotional outbursts either to the positive or the negative abound both online and in person, while any real, calm, thoughtful objectivity is nearly impossible to find.

And no, thoughtful objectivity is not blindly supporting every decision the man makes, while quipping, "Hey, I don't always like how he carries himself, but at least he's not that guy" (whoever "that guy" might be).

The American church has not been immune to the tragic split in our nation—between those captured by an irrational, unloving criticism of Trump, and those who instead offer him an equally irrational, uncritical love.

As a Christian, and yes as a pastor, I was deeply concerned last November over the misplaced revival of hope evident in too many Christians; not because of Jesus, but because Donald Trump had been reelected. I grieve at the way some of us work harder to champion Trump and his policies than we do the Gospel. And I'm troubled at the way too many Christians rush to defend and extol the president for everything he says or does. Uncritical love.

I’m simultaneously alarmed over other Christians who seem to feel their entire lives were somehow destroyed last November; people who 12 months ago would have told us their hope is invincible because it’s secure in Christ, but are now hope-less because Donald Trump has been reelected. It's sad to watch how personal responsibility has evaporated into blaming everything wrong in life as a direct result of the bad orange man. And I'm disturbed at the way too many Christians rush to condemn the president for everything he says or does. Unloving criticism.

I've been asked scores of times whether I believe that God miraculously intervened to save Donald Trump’s life on July 13 in Butler, Pennsylvania. Yes. 100% I believe that. Not necessarily as a divine endorsement of his candidacy, but as an act of sheer mercy toward us as a nation. Because I’m not exaggerating or using hyperbole when I say that, had President Trump been killed that day, I really believe our country might have descended into civil war.

We are placing such immense weight on one man’s life, legacy, and leadership that we (we in the Church!) have begun to frame him in either quasi-messianic, or forebodingly apocalyptic terms.

No, my friends. Donald Trump is not the second coming of Cyrus. And no, Donald Trump is not the anti-Christ.

But if he's neither of those, then how are we as Christians meant to think about our current President? Has he not done any good things? On the other hand, are there not at least some deeply concerning behaviors that need to be addressed?

How then do we bring critical love and loving criticism into political discourse?

In Part 2, I’ll attempt to model this by voicing my own concern (hopefully in a fair and loving, but earnest and concerned way), that our President echoes a certain biblical character—not Cyrus, not the Antichrist, but another man often overlooked in the pages of the prophet Daniel named Nebuchadnezzar.