Last week, former President Donald Trump shared a new 3-minute campaign ad on Truth Social titled “God Made Trump.” This video has also aired at his official campaign rallies, with some attendees reportedly stretching out their hands in a posture of worship. With stirring music and images (and based on the famous “God made a farmer” ad), the video is worth watching in full to give you insights into Trump, his campaign, and his supporters. Here’s the transcript of the ad:
On June 14 1946, God looked down on his planned paradise and said, I need a caretaker. So God gave us Trump.
God said, ‘I need somebody willing to get up before dawn, fix this country, work all day, fight the Marxists, eat supper, then go to the Oval Office and stay past midnight at a meeting of the heads of state.’ So God made Trump.
‘I need somebody with arms strong enough to wrestle the Deep State and yet gentle enough to deliver his own grandchild. Somebody to ruffle the feathers, tame the cantankerous World Economic Forum, come home hungry, have to wait until the First Lady is done with lunch with friends. Then to tell the ladies to be sure and come back real soon. And mean it.’ So God gave us Trump.
‘I need somebody who can shape an axe, but wield a sword. Who had the courage to step foot in North Korea. Who can make money from the tar of the sand, turn liquid to gold, who understands the difference between tariffs and inflation. Will finish his 40 hour week by Tuesday noon, but then put in another 72 hours.’ So God made Trump.
God had to have somebody willing to go into the den of vipers, call out the fake news where their tongues are as sharp as a serpents–the poison of vipers is on their lips–and yet stop. So God made Trump.
God said, ‘I need someone strong and courageous. who will not be afraid or terrified of the wolves when they attack. A man who cares for the flock. A shepherd to mankind who will never leave nor forsake them. I need the most diligent worker to follow the path, and remain strong in faith and know the belief of God and country. Somebody who’s willing to drill, bring back manufacturing and American jobs, farm the lands, secure our borders, build our military, fight the system all day and finish a hard week’s work by attending church on Sunday.’
And then his oldest son turns and says, ‘Dad, let’s make America great again. Dad, let’s build back a country to be the envy of the world again.’
So God made Trump.
As an evangelical Christian who has been very critical of Trump and his Christian supporters, you might think I would deny the very premise of the ad. And to be fair, I could of course argue that God didn’t send Trump, it’s just that enough Americans voted for him that he was elected–our own free will brought him into office.1 Or I could hypothetically argue, as I did satirically here, that it was Satan who brought Trump into power. Or I could simply focus on how Trump is flirting with blasphemy, since he is saying that he–not Jesus–is a shepherd who will never leave nor forsake us.
I won’t argue either of those today. Instead I’ll just hypothetically wonder: what if God did indeed give us Trump?
In the Hebrew Scriptures (1 Samuel 8), the Israelites ask for a king so that they may be like the other nations. They want a powerful leader, a strongman, to fight for them and defeat their enemies. God names this desire as idolatry, and warns the Israelites of the disastrous outcomes that will follow from having a strongman king. But they persist in demanding it, so he ultimately lets the people have what they want. Sometimes God gives us the thing that we desperately demand, even if He knows it will be bad for us.
Obviously, not everyone in America wanted Trump to be elected president, least of all me. But I wonder if Trump is indeed the incarnation of who we are collectively as a nation. America, like Trump, is:
Sexually impure, adulterous
Self-absorbed, longing to be a celebrity
Addicted to social media and television
Practicesunhealthy eating and sleeping habits
Petty, flippant, and impulsive, yet with the ability to hold grudges for a long time
Cynically using religion as a weapon to win earthly battles
Greedy
Dismissive of the cares of the downtrodden and lowly
So, what if God did give us Trump, to be a judgment on America and reveal what this nation truly is?
Lord, have mercy.
“And on that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves, but the Lord will not answer you on that day.” -1 Samuel 8:18
This is my actual view. I think God gives humans lots of freedom and free will, for better or worse. Sometimes we make good decisions, but sometimes we make bad ones. In other words, ultimately I don’t think God gave us Trump. We did. ↩︎
Last month I enjoyed a fun Memorial Day parade in my hometown of Newburgh, NY. I expected the procession to include a lot of flags, police cars, marching bands, and fire engines—and it did. More surprising to me however, were the large number of Latino evangelicals present in the parade, and particularly the prominent blending of Christianity and American patriotism. There was a Spanish-speaking church with multiple parade floats, led by a trio of Hispanic men blowing shofars, followed by an Israeli flag, the Christian flag, and dozens of American flags. As the lead pastor rode by, dressed in a suit and waving to the crowd, I could read “One Nation Under God” and “In God we trust” written across the side of his van, which was decked out with more American flags. Spanish worship music blared from the speakers.
Seeing this blend of Christianity and patriotism made me reflect on the nature of Christian nationalism. Political science theorist Paul Miller writes: “Christian nationalism is the belief that the American nation is defined by Christianity, and that the government should take active steps to keep it that way.” Christian nationalism has been in the news a lot recently, as it becomes increasingly apparent that many Trump supporters—particularly those who attempted the coup on January 6, 2021—are fervent believers in this ideology. While Christian nationalism has often seemed to the domain of white evangelicals, who form the bedrock of Trump’s support and supported him in record numbers in 2016 and 2020, there are a growing number of Christians of other ethnicities who have also embraced Christian nationalism, including Christians of Spanish descent. Political journalists have noted the massive swing towards Trump that occurred in these communities (especially in Texas and Florida) in the 2020 elections as compared to 2016. While I didn’t see any Trump signs at the Memorial Day parade, I would guess that many of these Latino evangelicals might also fit into that category.
And that brings me to the main point of my blog today. Watching the Memorial Day parade, while fun, brought up some uncomfortable reminders of Christian nationalism, and the dangers that can arise when Christians attempt to coerce others into our faith through political power. I could go on and on about the problems with nationalism generally, and have blogged about it in the past. However, most recent critiques of Christian nationalism in America that I have come across—particularly by those who aren’t Christian— typically focus on three problematic aspects: 1. its connections to white supremacy, 2. the focus on America First, and 3. a centering of Protestant Christianity. All of these critiques are of course valid to a certain extent in the United States, but I want to highlight what I saw in the Newburgh Memorial Day parade as a caution: if your main critique of Christian Nationalism is that it is too centered on whiteness, America, and/or Protestantism, then your critique simply will not apply to many versions of Christian nationalism in our world today.
As the Latino parade marchers illustrate, more and more, Christian Nationalism is NOT a domain of European whiteness- nor even of America. One can look more broadly at the rise of Christian nationalism in Brazil, or African nations like Uganda. There are attempts by more and more non-white peoples around the world to inscribe Christian values into their countries’ laws through legislation and political power. And lest one think that Christian nationalism is a fundamentally evangelical or Protestant phenomenon, one only has to look at the twisted version of Russian Orthodoxy that Putin has mobilized and militarized alongside Russian Archbishop Kirill in order to justify his imperialistic endeavors. Even in America, more and more Catholics are building alliances with their former Protestant rivals in order to fight what they see as rising “wokeness.” Contrary to what one might have heard, Christian nationalism is not a solely white, American, or Protestant phenomenon.
Moreover, these narrow secular critiques of Christian nationalism remind me of the argument that philosopher Susan Sontag had with the poet Adrienne Rich regarding the nature of German Nazis’ ideology. Adrienne Rich had argued that the best way to understand Nazism was solely through the lens of misogyny–she wrote that Nazism was “patriarchy at its purest, most elemental form.” Sontag rebutted that while misogyny was certainly present, to focus on patriarchy over and above other aspects of Nazism (such as racism, anti-Semitism, violence, capitalism, imperialism, etc) is to deny the complexity of the problem. Similarly, to simply denounce Christian Nationalism solely for being too white, or too American, is dangerously myopic, and leaves one open to counter-arguments like this: “Well, we can’t be Christian nationalists because we aren’t white and we aren’t American!” They fail to comprehend the real appeal of Christian nationalism, which is the same appeal it has held for millennia, ever since the Roman Emperor Constantine co-opted the faith in 313 CE and began using it to justify his rule and reign. Christian nationalism is appealing because it is a form of idolatry, of using the name of God to bless one’s empire and defeat one’s enemies (domestic or foreign).
If Christian nationalism is only really wrong because America does it, then your critique can’t go back further than 1776; if it’s only wrong because it’s too Protestant, it can’t go back further than 1517; if it’s only wrong because it’s too white, then you can’t go back further than the 1400s (when the concept of “whiteness” originated). We need to go back further than that.
Thus, to lay my cards not he table, I believe the fundamental weakness of critiquing Christian Nationalism for being too racist, too American, or too Protestant is that it simply does not go deep enough; it fails to address the root of the problem. (And to be clear, the problem is not that Christians are acting voting and acting according to their moral beliefs about what is right or wrong—because that is hopefully true for EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON.) The core problem at the heart of Christian nationalism is this–should Christians be attempting to establish Christianity as the pre-eminent religion? Should Christians ever use political power to coerce people to follow Jesus?
Admittedly, some Christians, particularly those who have a dim view of free will, have no problem with this. They might argue that other religions—notably Islam—spread through the sword, and if governmental power helps people to make other wise decisions (like wearing a seatbelt), then why not use coercion to force people to become Christian? For me and other Anabaptists, however, it is clear from the New Testament that Jesus’ Kingdom is not of this world, and as such he forbids his followers from using the sword to advance their interests. The earliest Christians refused to fight in wars, and would not use force to make others believe. We Anabaptists do not even baptize infants, insisting that they be able to make a free choice to be baptized when they are mature enough to decide for themselves. Thus Anabaptists such as myself would argue that Christianity is always wrong when it uses violence to coerce others into following Jesus, and our critique can go back all the way to the “Christianization” of the Roman Empire in 313 CE, would apply all the way through the Crusades, Inquisition, and European conquests, and will keep on applying going forward regardless what form Christian nationalism takes next.
For example, I think there is a chance, however small, that within the next century China will hit a tipping point where the number of Christians becomes too large for the government to keep repressing. Imagine then a Chinese version of Roman Emperor Constantine, who decides that it is easier to co-opt Christianity to serve his regime rather than to keep fighting it. Imagine that then we see a new version of Christian nationalism that uses the cross to justify Chinese persecution of the Muslim Uighurs, Chinese expansionism in Asia, and even a war against the increasingly non-Christian West. If your critique of Christian nationalism is that it is too white, or too centered on American Christianity or Protestantism, then you would have little to say against a uniquely Chinese Christian nationalism. (Or Brazilian Christian nationalism, or Ugandan Christian nationalism… etc).
However, if instead you have been critiquing Christian nationalism all along because Jesus’ followers are called to never use violence against their opponents, then you actually have a worthwhile—and consistent!—counter-philosophy to offer. That is why I think it is so crucial in this time for Anabaptist Christians to offer up their theology of pacifism (and our connected critiques of Christian nationalism) and spread it far and wide. Lord knows that Western Christians need to understand that Christian nationalism is flawed; but the center of the Church is no longer in the West. Now is the time for Christians around the entire globe to learn from Western Christianity’s mistakes and to reject the temptation to pick up the sword. Otherwise, we will see the heartbreaking cycle of violence continue in a new generation, staining the name of Jesus once more as rising powers in the Global East and South flex their muscles and attempt to build their own Christian Empires.
The sword is a lot easier to carry than the cross. Every generation since Peter sliced off the servants’ ear in the garden of Gethsemane will be tempted to establish God’s Kingdom through violence. But that’s not the way of Jesus. And Christians of every tribe, nation, and tongue need to be reminded of that.
[For a book that does a great job of critiquing Christian nationalism both in principle and as it has been practiced in America, I recommend Paul Miller’s The Religion of American Greatness: What’s Wrong with Christian Nationalism. Paul Miller is himself a practicing Christian so this book is an insider’s view at the philosophical and theological issues with Christian nationalism.]
[For another book that is a bit shorter and less academic, but was written 18 years ago so it’s a bit out of date, I’d recommend Greg Boyd’s Myth of a Christian Nation. This book was one of the biggest influences on how I shifted in my political and religious views away from Christian nationalism and to my current views.]
I read a fascinating article in The Atlantic that explains that the collapse of every civilization often can be linked to two main drivers of instability: broad economic stagnation, and too many elites. Oxford researcher Peter Turchin explains:
“All human societies experience recurrent waves of political crisis, such as the one we face today. My research team built a database of hundreds of societies across 10,000 yearsto try to find out what causes them. We examined dozens of variables, including population numbers, measures of well-being, forms of governance, and the frequency with which rulers are overthrown. We found that the precise mix of events that leads to crisis varies, but two drivers of instability loom large. The first is popular immiseration—when the economic fortunes of broad swaths of a population decline. The second, and more significant, is elite overproduction—when a society produces too many superrich and ultra-educated people, and not enough elite positions to satisfy their ambitions. [emphasis added]”
In our current day, we know that many working class Americans have been left behind, but Turchin explains that even college-educated Americans aren’t doing well across the board anymore, because too many people have college degrees in comparison to the positions available to them (even in STEM fields). He writes: “Competition is healthy for society, in moderation. But the competition we are witnessing among America’s elites has been anything but moderate. It has created very few winners and masses of resentful losers. It has brought out the dark side of meritocracy, encouraging rule-breaking instead of hard work. All of this has left us with a large and growing class of frustrated elite aspirants, and a large and growing class of workers who can’t make better lives for themselves.”
Turchin goes on to explain using historical examples that the most likely ways that this tension will be resolved is either through a violent revolution that has the effect of wealth and status redistribution, or if elites are willing to “sacrifice their near-term self-interest for our long-term collective interests.”
And this is where InterVarsity comes in.
You see, InterVarsity Christian Fellowship is a campus ministry that helps to disciple tens of thousands of college students at 700+ colleges and universities across America—representing the next batch of Turchin’s (potential) elites, entering an incredible competitive environment. Through Bible studies, worship, and discipleship, we work to help college students encounter the living Jesus and follow him in every area of their lives. But the thing about following Jesus, is that Jesus calls people repeatedly to love their neighbors, to forgo self-interest, to be willing to sell all their possessions and give to the poor, to love their enemies, to deign worldly status….in short, to be willing to give up all the trappings of being an “elite” and to instead identify with the meek, humble, and lowly. In InterVarsity we regularly study stories of the early church pooling their possessions and eliminating poverty; we reflect deeply on the dangers of the selfish pursuit of wealth and power. We hear how different Jesus’ Kingdom is compared to the kingdoms of this world. We encourage students to take practical steps to go outside of their elite college bubbles to serve the poor, to sacrifice for the sake of others, to work for justice for the oppressed. In short, InterVarsity is an institution uniquely poised to help potential elites to be willing to sacrifice their near-term self-interest for long term collective interests.
[I am describing InterVarsity because it is the organization I work for and know best. But any faithful Christian institution that follows Jesus’ teachings will hopefully guide its adherents to similar conclusions.]
Not everyone appreciates this aspect of following Jesus. In fact, it is this anti-elitist tendency within Christianity that the atheist philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche especially despised. He labeled it as “slave morality” — a morality created by the weak, oppressed, and humiliated people of the world to feel better about themselves. He thinks this slave morality is an obstacle to true human flourishing, which he believed requires people with strong wills to dominate others and disregard any ethical limits. Nietzsche argued we need elite “Ubermen” to dominate and lead, lest the world collapse into mediocrity. (And of course, there are many who call themselves Christian who would agree with Nietzsche’s prescription for more strongmen). I obviously disagree with Nietzsche’s desire for more strongmen. But in terms of his diagnosis of Christian theology, I think Nietzsche is correct— the New Testament does indeed promote a version of “slave morality,” and passages like the Beatitudes or Philippians 2 illustrate that perfectly. In Philippians, Paul says we are to take on the mind of Christ, who made himself a slave. And if the Son of God took on the form a slave in order to suffer and die for others, then how much more so should we his followers be willing to forsake our own elite power, status, and possessions!
That said, if we assume Turchin’s analysis is correct, organizations such as InterVarsity are playing a small but key role in keeping America from a collapse into violent revolution. College graduates that are following Jesus might choose to exit the elite rat race and pursue less-glamorous alternative callings, thus filling gaps in the lower rungs of society and simultaneously making the elite economy less competitive. Others may remain elites but do so in alternative ways, such as by giving generously or leading their companies and institutions to pursue goals that benefit the world long-term (even if they are less profitable in the short-term). Politics can look different when the voters and candidates choose to love their enemies and seek the “shalom” of their cities rather than pursuing a strategy of divide and conquer. Even the most elite Christians can do a lot to serve the least of these: it was Bono who advocated for Jubilee debt forgiveness of African nations, and helped get the PEPFAR anti-AIDS program passed during the Bush administration which has already saved 25 million African lives.
None of this is to say that America’s trajectory can be corrected by a few thousand college graduates desperately trying to follow Jesus. Yet, just as a small bit of yeast can leaven a large batch of dough, it’s possible that the lives of a handful of faithful people refusing to live like the other elites might just be enough to turn the tide. Stranger things have happened.
[The essay below is adapted from an email I originally wrote to David French, a prominent American evangelical who is also a notable Never-Trumper, NYT columnist, and co-leader of “The AfterParty,” a new movement designed to help American evangelicals engage in politics in a more healthy manner. Mr. French has not yet replied to my email, but if he does I will ask for permission to share his response here.]
Hi David,
I hope you are doing well. My name is Andrew Berg, and I work for InterVarsity Christian Fellowship as an Area Director in Central Pennsylvania. I’ve been a fan of yours for a while, and recently started listening to the Good Faith podcast, including your recent AfterParty live event. There you invited listeners to email you with any thoughts or questions we may have, so I’m taking you up on that. (I’ve also been inspired to create a 12-week Bible study guide on the theme of politics, and hope to try it out later this year!)
One piece of context for you to know is that I am now a member of an Anabaptist denomination, the Brethren in Christ (BIC), after growing up in the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod. Among other Anabaptist commitments like adult baptism, in the BIC we value nonviolence and oppose war. That leads to the following question to you as I consider how to help American evangelicals engage in politics in a more Christ-like manner.
My question is: Do you think that American evangelicals would disproportionately benefit from a thorough exposition of the biblical foundations of nonviolence and pacifism?
I know you yourself are an advocate for Just War Theory, and I listened to you share on the Good Faith podcast about that topic a couple months ago. I certainly don’t expect to argue you out of your view, which is very well thought-out and articulated. However, unlike yourself, I don’t think most evangelicals have ever considered the biblical reasons someone might choose not to pick up arms. Having access to deadly weapons feels as American as apple pie, and most evangelicals don’t feel any tension whatsoever with that. But I wonder if maybe they should, at least a little.
There’s a few ways I could see this being uniquely beneficial to American evangelicals as we think about helping them engage in civic life in a more healthy manner:
First, we have seen many Americans be quick to use weapons to defend themselves when it is absolutely unnecessary. Just this week there have been two incidents where a teenager accidentally knocked on the wrong door, and was answered by gunfire. And there have been other incidents where a gun owner’s child was sneaking back in the house after seeing friends late at night, and was shot dead for fear of a burglar. To be fair, I don’t want anyone to break into my house either, but there’s not a single possession I own that is worth killing another human being made in God’s image. Or take the case in Texas where Gov. Abbott seeks to pardon the man convicted of killing a BLM protester: when violent self-defense is assumed as a core right, it means that people may be tempted to seek out situations where they will be able to kill others in the name of “self-defense”. In contrast, Jesus says that whoever wants to save their life will lose it, and that we must take up our crosses and follow him—the exact opposite of self-defense. (I don’t think this means a total avoidance of “force”; I used to teach middle school students and forcefully broke up 22 fights in just two years of teaching. But I did so without the use of a gun, or even any physical “violence.” If Costa Rica can remain the most peaceful nation in Central America without a standing army, and if UK police officers can maintain the peace without carrying weapons beyond a stun gun, I think in 99.9% of cases Americans could also find a path to resolve conflicts without resorting to violence–and I think evangelicals would particularly benefit from more thinking in how to do that well.)
Secondly, I think American evangelicals would benefit from hearing more about passages like Romans 12-13 about submitting to authorities in its full context. Writing to a persecuted community living under the Emperor Nero, Paul tells them to not resist the authorities, to love their enemies, and to bless their persecutors! To me this is more in line with an ethic of nonviolence than it is to the standard American evangelical perspective, which assumes a right to resist and overthrow any government that they don’t like. (And that’s not even getting into the more strongly worded principles of nonviolence espoused by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount.) My point is that perhaps evangelicals would feel less free to join armed antigovernment militia movements like The Three Percenters, Boogaloo Bois, Patriot Front, etc. if they understood Scripture’s clear calls to eschew violence—even at the cost of our own lives, if necessary.
And that gets to my third and final point: I think that as long as American evangelicals think that armed violence against one’s opponents can easily be justified biblically, it will inevitably lead to more division and animosity than if they remain committed to nonviolence. After all, why bother negotiating with someone that you are physically, emotionally, and spiritually prepared to kill? Nonviolence is a far harder path than violence, which is why so few choose it, but ultimately I would argue it’s more successful in the long run. You only have to look at MLK’s leadership in the Civil Rights movement, and the firm discipline of nonviolence he required of his followers. MLK did not shrink back from harsh words for his opponents, but his commitment to nonviolence means that he always held out hope for them. In contrast, to pick up arms (whether in reality or metaphorically) means that one has given up hope for change, and instead are counting on the overwhelming use of power and force to achieve one’s aims. That is certainly how the kingdoms of this world work, but it is not what Christians are called to. I suspect that as long as there are least some situations where evangelicals think violence is biblically justified, there will exist a slippery slope wherein more and more situations feel justified, until we have shootings at nightclubs, libraries, and pizza parlors because they’re “grooming children” or some other ridiculous reasons.
Or maybe I will put it another way: Is it better for a Christian to go to war and kill non-Christians, or to go to war and kill Christians? To kill a non-Christian (potentially) dooms him or her to an eternity in hell, whereas to kill a Christian is to kill a brother or sister in Christ. Either option feels unacceptable to me. But I worry that far too many evangelicals are not only fine with the idea of killing others, but excited about it! I don’t imagine that a better understanding of the Bible or a theology of nonviolence would stop every mass shooter or disrupt every Christian militia movement, but if it helps to lower our political temperature even a little bit, it feels worth it.
Granted, there will always be hard cases where violence feels necessary, like defense of the innocent, or resistance to evil regimes like Nazi Germany or Putin’s Russia. Yet as I think about 1930s Germany and 2020s Russia—in each of those countries, a majority of the population proclaimed themselves Christian. What if all of the Christians there —or even a substantial minority—had practiced nonviolence? I don’t think Hitler ever could have invaded Poland, nor Putin invaded Ukraine, if Christians in Germany and Russia had risen up and declared violence an unacceptable choice for serious followers of Jesus Christ.
What do you think? Do you think a more prominent theology and biblical understanding about nonviolence would help more American evangelicals pursue politics in a more healthy way? Or would that be a fruitless errand compared to other levers of change?
I’m curious about your thoughts—thanks and God bless!
