For the most part, I’m not embarrassed to admit that I used to be Christian. But the white evangelical support for Trump is changing that, and I kind of resent it.
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When I left Christianity, I didn’t do so on bad terms. It was more like a falling out of love than a gathering storm of anger or resentment. Things I’d grown up believing simply stopped making sense to me, both intellectually and emotionally.
I’ve never felt a need to burn it down or anything like that. I understand the arguments of the New Atheists, but I’m not that interested in their anti-religious projects (e.g., Hitchens’s God is not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything). I don’t see my own rejection of Christianity as being a move from oppressive superstition toward liberating Reason. Indeed, I’m probably as suspicious of the grand récit of the Enlightenment as I am of that of Christianity.
I’m sure that part of my unwillingness to attack my ex-religion comes from sheer mental inertia. I spent many years making sense of life, the universe, and everything through the lens of the Christian belief system, and though I’ve swapped out lenses, there are still well-worn paths, or ruts, in my thinking.
That said, it’s not just habit of thought. Though I no longer live in the Christian “world,” and that worldview no longer makes sense to me, I do remember the relative coherence of the belief system as seen from within that world. So while I’ve rejected Christianity, I also understand how it works for those who haven’t. And that understanding makes me less willing to embrace a more militant or evangelical atheism.
But lately, I’ve been baffled by the way so many Christians have embraced Trump.
And I’m not just talking about tolerating him. It’s actually not that hard for Christians to argue that politics just isn’t worth getting all het up over—”Render unto Caesar” and all that—or that their job is not to #Resist, but rather to pray “for all those in authority,” and so on. I (and many Christians) might not agree with that position, but it’s at least credible and consistent.
But there’s a strange glee in the support from so many of these Christian leaders:
Jerry Fallwell, Jr.: Trump is our King David!
Franklin Graham: God worked a miracle to make Trump president—there’s no other reasonable explanation!
James Dobson: Trump is a baby Christian (maybe)!
Rodney and Adonica Howard-Browne (the ones who posted the pic of Christian leaders “laying hands” on Trump): Trump is ushering in a great spiritual awakening! 1
Back in my Christian days, I’d have pointed out that such “leaders” didn’t speak for me. (I know I’d have done this because I did—Jr.’s dad, Jerry Fallwell, who was the head of the Moral Majority, appalled me.) And it would have been true! But it would also have been irrelevant, as these leaders have tons of people who follow them directly, not to mention the local pastors and other spiritual leaders who pass the message on to their audience. And while there may be good reason to be skeptical of the widely publicized claim that 80% of white evangelicals voted for Trump (e.g., only a slim majority of Americans voted at all), the exact percentage isn’t that important. A large number of people who consider themselves Christian helped to put Trump into the White House.
Talk about cognitive dissonance.
Sometimes I wonder what my position on Trump would have been, were I still Christian. I know that I held some beliefs that now seem at best absurd (there was a time when I believed in young earth creationism—certainly not my finest intellectual moment), and at worst abhorrent (I was anti-just-about-anything-I-now-believe about, for example, the rights of women or gays—and anything trans* would have made my head explode…). But I hope my attitude would be the same as that of my family and many of my Christian friends. That is a good possibility, at least, since we share many influences.
They’re as baffled as I am—and probably much angrier. I mean, given my distance from that Christian world, I don’t have to deal with these people much. But my Christian family members and friends do live there, and they have friends who say things—often surprisingly hurtful things—in defense of Trump.
And I know they see the same thing I see, even from my now-outsider’s vantage point: the “witness”—from a marketing perspective, the brand—of Christianity (and not just white evangelicals) is being sullied by this influential group’s politheistic willingness to embrace and defend Trump.
After all, pretty much everything Trump touches ends up diminished.
- It would be possible to argue that Trump’s presidency has contributed, at least potentially, to the empowerment of women—but this is an ironic outcome, as women (for example) run for political office as a reaction against Trump. For these Christians, though, there’s no irony here; Trump is God’s tool in this spiritual awakening, making America godly again. Sure, he’s a sleaze… but isn’t it cool how God can use imperfect vessels for his ends?