Evangelicals, Trump, and Where We Go From Here
How “The Big Sort” Created and Defined This Cultural Moment
I’m a huge fan of David French, and relied on his weekly Sunday newsletter to bolster my hope and courage throughout the recent election season. His deep wisdom and ability to hold steadfastly to Biblical truth while challenging the narratives of white evangelical Republicanism made me feel like I’m not alone.
The 2020 Presidential election, in my one-woman opinion, was both a victory and an extension of the same pervasive issues facing the electorate as a whole and American Christians specifically. It’s still early days in terms of analyzing exit polls and voter data, but it seems like Trump lost some of his evangelical support vs. 2016–as much as 5 points, and more in critical swing states (for more on this, see Michael Wear’s excellent analysis). Depending on your perspective, that swing along could have cost him the election.
I can declare victory solely because Joe Biden won, defeating Trump, who from day one I have considered the sworn enemy of democracy and American stability and prosperity. Trump is the most selfish leader in the history of our nation. I know many people disagree with me on this–especially Christians. I’ll address that soon enough. But for me, Biden’s win was the first and most important step in restoring some sanity to our nation.
That’s not a given, though, just because Biden won–his victory simply made it possible. And now we have to stare down our many demons if we have any hope of maintaining credibility as a just democracy.
The ultimate threat to that credibility? Not foreign interference, not “moral decay,” not globalism–and certainly not the spectre of “socialism.” Sorry, folks. The real threat is polarization. And I’m not so sure the damage can be undone.
Back to David French: his latest newsletter, titled The Cultural Consequences of Very, Very Republican Christianity, is the most succinct argument I’ve seen for what has gone wrong within Evangelicalism and the American Church at large (because they’re not the same thing). And I think he described this problem perfectly:
The Big Sort.
Here’s his explanation of why many Christians don’t understand the argument that they are sacrificing their witness because they’re so aligned with the Republican Party and platform (and by extension, Trump)–in short, it’s because they’re increasingly only surrounded by people who agree with them. This is true from the region they live in down to the type of church they attend. Says French:
Instead, Burge observes, “people leave houses of worship when they disagree with other members. Liberals leave churches that are too conservative and conservatives leave churches that are too liberal.” Put another way, “The Christian Right did not cause people across the religious and political spectrum to leave their churches. Instead, their politics was inspiration to leave for evangelicals who disagreed with the Christian Right.”
As this process has persisted year after year — and as the corresponding national big sort has proceeded apace — then politics, faith, church, and community start to fit together in a seamless, comfortable garment. When you’re fully immersed in this world, criticisms make very little sense. Threats feel existential.
And there it is. If I could sum up what the overwhelming majority of most of the conservative evangelical Christians in my life feel, it’s fear. The threats feel existential, and very near. Abortion, gay marriage, socialism… these are the same boogeymen that have haunted conservative American Christians for decades (see Kristin Kobes Du Mez’s amazing book, Jesus and John Wayne, for more on that history of the marriage between American Evangelicals and the Republican Party. It’s both terrifying and fascinating, like watching a train wreck.)
Let’s assume, for sake of argument, that this is true: like the rest of American society, Christians are becoming increasingly polarized and conservative Christians have become Republicans first, Christians second. (Because I’m not about to try to convince you of that in this post. Read through French’s great work first, and then we can talk). What implications does this have moving forward?
First, removing Trump from office does little to change the tradition of evangelicals overwhelmingly supporting Republican candidates up to 80% or more. And since, like all humans, this group is bolstered by an external threat–already seen in the far-right commentary about how extreme Biden really is, or how the Democrats are planning a coup to replace Biden with Kamala Harris and install a socialist order–their alignment with the Republican party will not erode over the next four years but will probably strengthen. That’s the nature of humans.
Within the Church, polarization will also continue. I’ve seen many liberal-leaning Christian friends react in horror over the past weeks over how many white evangelicals still voted for Trump despite his myriad character flaws, lies, and empty promises. But many of them live in urban areas where, as French notes and I can confirm from experience, it’s infinitely easier to be a politically moderate Christian when you aren’t surrounded almost entirely by like-minded believers. It’s harder to go against the grain in more rural, conservative communities.
Having now lived in one extremely conservative, rural small town and now a second mostly conservative, rural mid-sized town, I didn’t have such high hopes for a massive rejection of Trump among Christians. Rural and urban areas across the country are becoming increasingly polarized, too, leaving the suburbs as our battlegrounds (which was obvious in Biden’s victory as he peeled off suburban support from Trump). This makes it really, really hard to find a moderate church in these polarized communities: our options here in rural Montana are a myriad of very conservative, dyed-in-the-wool evangelical churches or a couple token theologically liberal churches. A moderate Christian has a really hard time finding a denominational home in rural American, trust me.
In fact, anecdotally I’ve found it far easier to find a politically moderate evangelical church in an urban core, because urban areas have been seen as “mission fields” for Evangelicals and many have set up shop in the center of America’s largest cities. There is also a large swath of evangelicals in cities who are on the wealthier, higher-educated end of the spectrum who don’t feel at home in more conservative, traditional churches, and they’ve had the resources to create church homes accordingly. I’ve definitely felt most at home in these types of churches, but again, the problem persists: continued “sorting” into churches where everyone else looks, believes and votes just like you. Like in nearly every other way, the church continues to reflect the culture at large.
I also wonder where this will leave Millennial Christians struggling to cling to a denominational identity or who have recently found themselves more aligned with “nones.” Our experience in early adulthood hasn’t aligned with what was promised in our conservative upbringing: follow these rules, and you’ll get ahead. Will the increasing polarization of the church drive more of us out? And what about those of us who are moderate, center-right or center-left, with no interest in the bombastic, militant language of conservative evangelical churches or the cultural acquiescence of theologically liberal churches?
What if we just want to love Jesus and love our neighbor well?
On my least hopeful days, I only see more of the same: more polarization, more abandonment of church (and often of faith) by Millennials and moderates, more alignment between Christianity and the Republican party while it hemorrhages influence as demographics shift. But I find hope knowing there are many sincere Christians asking these same questions, seeking a new way forward. It’s hard to forge your own path or start from scratch, but it seems like those are the only options left.
Since French already summed up our current cultural-religious-political moment so well, I’ll share his conclusions in lieu of my own (emphasis mine):
[A very Republican Christianity] does something else also — something I didn’t see until I was outside of my own tribe. It helps create the illusion that believers can in fact knit and wear a comfortable cultural garment on this earth. It fosters the belief that tightly knitting together religious faith and secular power can create, protect, and sustain a thriving community of believers.
This unity of church and party imbues all political disputes with an intensity far beyond their true eternal weight, and it does so on issues up and down the Republican platform, including on matters far beyond the classic culture war issues that allegedly define and motivate Evangelical political involvement.
It thus shouldn’t surprise anyone that Evangelicals bond easily with other Republicans. Nor should it surprise anyone that political dissenters can feel isolated and alone. When party identification merges with church identification, political cohesion fosters religious intolerance.
This is an extremely critical, perilous moment for American Christianity. May we act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly–even when doing so threatens our worldly power. May we be a better witness, even when speaking up means being pushed out. And at the end of the day, may they know us by our love.
