Taking Trump’s Theology Seriously

Perhaps Donald Trump’s professed Christian faith has gotten a bad rap.

Back in January, the Pew Research Center found that among American presidential candidates, Republican or Democrat, Trump was seen as the least religious.¹ A recent GQ article argues that Trump “sure is bad at pretending he loves Jesus.”² Erick Erickson in a tweet quips, “The more Trump talks Christianity, the more he sounds like he took a Rosetta Stone class on speaking Christian.”³ On this website, our very own Chris Casberg describes Trump’s faith in such flattering terms as “con man,” an “antichrist,” and my favorite, “a Yeshua who would have happily taken up the devil’s offer in the desert.”⁴

I’m not here to dispute any of this. I surely concede that these are accurate descriptions of an opportunistic Republican candidate, seeking out the affections of the declining (yet still powerful) religious right. Behind the curtain of Trump’s façade of trying to be in with the faith of the evangelicals, however, reveals an honest and intuitive theology of sin of repentance.

A recent history of the candidate’s contrition reveals a reluctance to say that repentance has any relevance to his faith. Anderson Cooper, in an interview with Trump on CNN nearly a year ago, asked the candidate, “Do you feel a need to repent?” Trump responded with near incredulity at the audacity of the question, “I think repenting is terrific. But I try not to make many mistakes. I mean, why do I have to repent if I’m not making mistakes? I work hard, I’m an honorable person.”⁵

At The Family Leadership Summit around the same time last year, Donald Trump was asked a similar question. The interviewer asked, “Have you ever asked God for forgiveness?” True to form, Trump answered, “I’m not sure I have, if I do something wrong I think I just try and make it right. I don’t bring God into that picture. I don’t.”⁶

In a recent interview this past month, columnist Cal Thomas asked of Trump, “You have said you never felt the need to ask for God’s forgiveness, and yet repentance for one’s sins is a precondition to salvation. I ask you the question Jesus asked of Peter: Who do you say He is?” Trump crafted his usual response, “I will be asking for forgiveness, but hopefully I won’t have to be asking for much forgiveness.”⁷

I quote these three nearly identical sequences to point out that I believe Trump’s faith (at least in reference to this question) is honest. Indeed, had Trump spent a few minutes attempting to concoct a slightly more suitable response to the question in order to appeal to an evangelical voter bloc, I doubt he would’ve chosen the line, “I don’t have to repent.” Trump’s own religious history also brings this truth to bear. As a congregant of Marble Collegiate Church in Manhattan, Trump (by his own recollection) was captivated by the preaching of Norman Vincent Peale, the bestselling author of The Power of Positive Thinking.⁸ A beautiful line from Terry Eastland’s article “The Religion of Trump,” connects Peale’s pulpit to Trump’s lack of personal penitence. “Critics of Peale, writes church historian D. G. Reid, saw the message of ‘positive thinking’ as ‘religious pragmatism that dilutes Christian theology and promotes American doctrines of self-reliance and materialistic reward.’”⁹

Religious pragmatism that promotes American doctrines. Now I believe we’re starting to get closer to appreciating the theology of Trump. Trump is not a religious con.¹⁰ Nor does his theology represent anything particularly new or alien. As Erik Raymond argues, Trump is a “theological populist” whose voice represents the spiritual state of America. As a thoroughgoing populist, Trump’s theology resonates with an American public that believes that “sin is on the extremes: not in the mainstream.”¹¹ Sin does not reside in the human heart without distinction, but in who and what we find distasteful, shameful, and marginal. Those out there—the bigoted rednecks, the pompous city-dwellers, the terrorists, the LGBTQ, the white males, the immigrants, the bankers, the entitled—they deserve our displeasure and damnation.

Unfortunately, Trump’s theology doesn’t merely represent an American problem, appealing to the perceived ignorance of a populist underbelly, but also represents the basic problem of the body politic of humanity as a whole. In our bones, we desperately want to avoid the chorus of the Scriptures that proclaim “the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick.”¹² The entirety of the human condition, our souls as to pride and our bodies as to decay, reflects this disordered state.

How are we to be healed from this sickness? Every Sunday since Christ’s resurrection, liturgical Christians participate in corporate confession, together bending the knee and bowing the head toward a God who is both Holy and Merciful. This weekly practice orders the rhythms and rituals of the rest of the week, forming us into people who frequently pray, “Our Father, forgive us our trespasses.”¹³ And paradoxically, the more holy we become, the more we understand our need for a Savior. Contrary to Trump’s desire, “hopefully I won’t have to be asking for much forgiveness,” Christians ought to be the people who yearn for confession, trusting in a God who is faithful to forgive. For we proclaim that it is only by this practice that we are united to the righteous Messiah who died for our sins, and readied for good works in His Kingdom.

To use one of the great confessions of Trump’s professed Presbyterianism, the Heidelberg Catechism, repentance and faith is how we ought to respond to perhaps the most essential question,

Q. What is your only comfort in life and in death?

A. That I am not my own, but belong—body and soul, in life and in death—to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ. He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood, and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil. He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven; in fact, all things must work together for my salvation. Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.¹⁴

[wpex more=”View Sources” less=”Hide Sources”]

1. “Faith and the 2016 Campaign,” Pew Research Center, January 27, 2016, http://www.pewforum.org/2016/01/27/faith-and-the-2016-campaign/
2. Moore, Jack. “Donald Trump Sure Is Bad at Pretending He Loves Jesus,” GQ, June 9, 2016, http://www.gq.com/story/donald-trump-sure-is-bad-at-pretending-he-loves-jesus
3. Quoted in
Winston, Kimberly. “Trump tackles Christianity’s big question: Who is Jesus?” Religion News Service, June 8, 2016, http://religionnews.com/2016/06/08/trump-tackles-who-is-jesus/
4. Casberg, Chris. “The One About Donald Trump,” Conciliar Post, June 8, 2016, https://prahlowjacob-pvcnh.wpcomstaging.com/politics-current-affairs/the-one-about-donald-trump/
5. “Donald Trump full interview part 2 (CNN interview with Anderson Cooper), CNN, July 22, 2015, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q1xKYFcCKOA
6. “Donald Trump on God and Forgiveness,” NoRealNameThanks¸July 18, 2015, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3l0e6nS9oI
7. Rhomas, Cal. “Trump Interview – The Transcript,” CalThomas.com, http://calthomas.com/node/985
8. Eastland, Terry. “The Religion of Trump,” The Weekly Standard, January 25, 2016, http://www.weeklystandard.com/the-religion-of-trump/article/2000601
9. Ibid.
10. (Again, at least in this instance)
11. Ibid.
12. Jeremiah 17: 9 ESV
13. This liturgical critique of Trump is indebted to
Smith, James K.A. “World View,” Comment, Summer 2016, https://www.cardus.ca/comment/article/4873/world-view/
14. “Heidelberg Catechism,” Christian Reformed Church, https://www.crcna.org/welcome/beliefs/confessions/heidelberg-catechism%5B/wpex%5D

4 responses to “Taking Trump’s Theology Seriously”

George Aldhizer

July 2, 2016

That’s an interesting thought, do you have a source for that data? From what I’ve read, Trump seems to be most unpopular for consistent churchgoers, Catholic and evangelical alike. Though I wouldn’t be surprised that evangelicals are more in bed with Trump, we have a lot of history with the GOP to uphold.

You’re point is interesting about total depravity, I’m not sure to what extent our respective theologies influence our political ideologies. Certainly, though, I do think our theologies should be the ground of our political ideologies and engagement.

To the point though, where do you see the distinction between evangelical thinking (whatever that is lol) on total depravity and Catholic thinking on it? I’m not sure there is much of a distinction to influence our thinking on trump differently, if that makes sense. But I’m curious to hear your thoughts on that.

George Aldhizer

July 2, 2016

Yes, I would agree with you that it is troubling to see many evangelical leaders come out in support of Trump (perhaps most notably Eric Metaxas). And it is certainly true that the splintered nature of evangelicalism/Protestantism (both in theology and ecclesiology) leads to differing views on politics. I think the Pope’s leadership against Trump ought to be headed by all.

Though, I would say that I’m very encouraged to see the religious right decline. Evangelicals like Russell Moore and Thabiti Anyabwile, alongside of other influencers such as Christianity Today, are arguing forcefully against Trump (and I’m even encouraged that some like Anyabwile are arguing we must vote for Hillary because of how bad Trump is. I sympathize, but disagree, with those like Moore who says we can’t vote Hillary). It does seem that there is a ideological shift (however minor) in evangelicalism as it relates to politics, with the decline of Christendom in America waking people up to see how evangelicalism has been in bed with the GOP for far too long.

Back to the total depravity point, I’m not sure I see the distinction. I know of no modern evangelical theologian that believes the image of God was obliterated with the fall (though, looking back at Joseph Green’s article on the subject, it appears that Calvin himself believed that). Indeed, the image of God in everyone (and Gods common grace given to all as well) provides the foundation for a Reformed engagement with politics for the common good of all. Do you see a Reformed view of total depravity leading to a more “pessimistic” view of politics than a Catholic view? I’m curious what you mean by that term.

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Reply
1. George Aldhizer
  
  July 11, 2016
  
  Hm. I think that’s an important question to be raised. If I’m summarizing you correctly, you’re saying that if we believe total depravity is true, we will be pessimistic and distrusting of politics, perhaps especially international cooperation.
  
  I think we have to start with asking what total depravity means. Michael Horton, a Reformed theologian, describes it in his systematic theology, “total depravity means there was not any part of humanity left unsullied by the fall, not that human beings are as bad (or as ignorant) as they could possibly be.” I think this is a catholic truth, able to be shared by all Christian traditions.
  
  The other side of the total depravity coin for Reformed folks is common grace, the grace God gives to all of humanity, regardless of whether one is in Christ. Horton summarizes, “The goal of common grace is not to perfect nature but to restrain sin and animate civic virtues and arts, so that culture may fulfill its own important but limited, temporal, and secular ends, while God simultaneously pursues the redemptive aims of his everlasting city.”
  
  If anything, I believe, contemporary evangelicals (with the Reformed being a particular wing of evangelicalism) have become too easily infatuated with the possibility of secular power in politics, as evidenced by the Religious Right’s perpetual longing for a Christian man who will make America a shining city on a hill.
  
  I stumbled upon an article by James K.A. Smith (a calvinist who believes in ‘transforming culture,’ but has reservations), written for Comment magazine in 2006, he argues that Reformed folks have too easily embraced a vision of “engaging culture” that often too easily embraces the world as it is. “I have grave reservations about a growing consensus in evangelical public theology which has hitched its wagon to neocalvinism’s vision of ‘transforming culture.’ This consensus position, almost unthinkable just a generation ago, is that Christians should be actively involved in the political sphere, and should be involved in a particular way, viz., ‘transforming’ culture as a means of extending redemption and shalom. This consensus owes a direct debt to the Reformed tradition, particularly to the doctrine of ‘common grace.’”
  
  See also James Davison Hunter’s (a Christian sociologist) book To Change the World, in which he argues that American Christians have become too quick to embrace any political power they can get their hands on. He argues that Christians should (I’m paraphrasing) “take a break from politics for a while.”
  
  All this to say, a proper vision of Reformed engagement with politics will utilize both sides of the coin, total depravity and common grace. To embrace only the former is to disengage, to embrace only the latter to is to be uncritical and power hungry. Both are unChristian, either denying the depravity of humanity or denying the call for humans to engage culture/politics. I think for evangelicals (again, with Reformed folks being a wing of this camp) the temptation has clearly been not to mistrust power, or to recognize the inherent sinfulness and weaknesses in any earthly city, but to embrace power at any cost.
  
  Loading…
2. George Aldhizer
  
  July 20, 2016
  
  Ben, I’m not sure I’m seeing where we are in explicit conflict, that’s certainly not to say it doesn’t exist. I think I’m gonna write my next piece summarizing Abraham Kuyper’s view of common grace. Though you will no doubt disagree with his distinction between grace for the elect (“special grace”) and grace for the whole world (“common grace”), I think you will find that the paragraph I cited from Horton does not do the concept justice.
  
  Specifically, as points of comparison with what you quote of Guadium et Spes, Kuyper emphasizes the history of mankind, the renewal and development of human society, the gospel having power over body and soul, the work of Christians *in the world* (not merely for the Church or for saving souls), and the *extension* of common grace into the eschaton.
  
  Hopefully my summarizing of Kuyper in the next article will give us better space to see where we disagree (and I’m not so sure how much of Kuyper I myself agree with). Maybe then we can better outline what may be key points of disagreement with “first principles of anthropology”
  
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George Aldhizer

July 2, 2016

That’s an interesting thought, do you have a source for that data? From what I’ve read, Trump seems to be most unpopular for consistent churchgoers, Catholic and evangelical alike. Though I wouldn’t be surprised that evangelicals are more in bed with Trump, we have a lot of history with the GOP to uphold.

You’re point is interesting about total depravity, I’m not sure to what extent our respective theologies influence our political ideologies. Certainly, though, I do think our theologies should be the ground of our political ideologies and engagement.

To the point though, where do you see the distinction between evangelical thinking (whatever that is lol) on total depravity and Catholic thinking on it? I’m not sure there is much of a distinction to influence our thinking on trump differently, if that makes sense. But I’m curious to hear your thoughts on that.

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1. George Aldhizer
  
  July 2, 2016
  
  Yes, I would agree with you that it is troubling to see many evangelical leaders come out in support of Trump (perhaps most notably Eric Metaxas). And it is certainly true that the splintered nature of evangelicalism/Protestantism (both in theology and ecclesiology) leads to differing views on politics. I think the Pope’s leadership against Trump ought to be headed by all.
  
  Though, I would say that I’m very encouraged to see the religious right decline. Evangelicals like Russell Moore and Thabiti Anyabwile, alongside of other influencers such as Christianity Today, are arguing forcefully against Trump (and I’m even encouraged that some like Anyabwile are arguing we must vote for Hillary because of how bad Trump is. I sympathize, but disagree, with those like Moore who says we can’t vote Hillary). It does seem that there is a ideological shift (however minor) in evangelicalism as it relates to politics, with the decline of Christendom in America waking people up to see how evangelicalism has been in bed with the GOP for far too long.
  
  Back to the total depravity point, I’m not sure I see the distinction. I know of no modern evangelical theologian that believes the image of God was obliterated with the fall (though, looking back at Joseph Green’s article on the subject, it appears that Calvin himself believed that). Indeed, the image of God in everyone (and Gods common grace given to all as well) provides the foundation for a Reformed engagement with politics for the common good of all. Do you see a Reformed view of total depravity leading to a more “pessimistic” view of politics than a Catholic view? I’m curious what you mean by that term.
  
  Loading…
  
  1. George Aldhizer
    
    July 11, 2016
    
    Hm. I think that’s an important question to be raised. If I’m summarizing you correctly, you’re saying that if we believe total depravity is true, we will be pessimistic and distrusting of politics, perhaps especially international cooperation.
    
    I think we have to start with asking what total depravity means. Michael Horton, a Reformed theologian, describes it in his systematic theology, “total depravity means there was not any part of humanity left unsullied by the fall, not that human beings are as bad (or as ignorant) as they could possibly be.” I think this is a catholic truth, able to be shared by all Christian traditions.
    
    The other side of the total depravity coin for Reformed folks is common grace, the grace God gives to all of humanity, regardless of whether one is in Christ. Horton summarizes, “The goal of common grace is not to perfect nature but to restrain sin and animate civic virtues and arts, so that culture may fulfill its own important but limited, temporal, and secular ends, while God simultaneously pursues the redemptive aims of his everlasting city.”
    
    If anything, I believe, contemporary evangelicals (with the Reformed being a particular wing of evangelicalism) have become too easily infatuated with the possibility of secular power in politics, as evidenced by the Religious Right’s perpetual longing for a Christian man who will make America a shining city on a hill.
    
    I stumbled upon an article by James K.A. Smith (a calvinist who believes in ‘transforming culture,’ but has reservations), written for Comment magazine in 2006, he argues that Reformed folks have too easily embraced a vision of “engaging culture” that often too easily embraces the world as it is. “I have grave reservations about a growing consensus in evangelical public theology which has hitched its wagon to neocalvinism’s vision of ‘transforming culture.’ This consensus position, almost unthinkable just a generation ago, is that Christians should be actively involved in the political sphere, and should be involved in a particular way, viz., ‘transforming’ culture as a means of extending redemption and shalom. This consensus owes a direct debt to the Reformed tradition, particularly to the doctrine of ‘common grace.’”
    
    See also James Davison Hunter’s (a Christian sociologist) book To Change the World, in which he argues that American Christians have become too quick to embrace any political power they can get their hands on. He argues that Christians should (I’m paraphrasing) “take a break from politics for a while.”
    
    All this to say, a proper vision of Reformed engagement with politics will utilize both sides of the coin, total depravity and common grace. To embrace only the former is to disengage, to embrace only the latter to is to be uncritical and power hungry. Both are unChristian, either denying the depravity of humanity or denying the call for humans to engage culture/politics. I think for evangelicals (again, with Reformed folks being a wing of this camp) the temptation has clearly been not to mistrust power, or to recognize the inherent sinfulness and weaknesses in any earthly city, but to embrace power at any cost.
    
    Loading…
  2. George Aldhizer
    
    July 20, 2016
    
    Ben, I’m not sure I’m seeing where we are in explicit conflict, that’s certainly not to say it doesn’t exist. I think I’m gonna write my next piece summarizing Abraham Kuyper’s view of common grace. Though you will no doubt disagree with his distinction between grace for the elect (“special grace”) and grace for the whole world (“common grace”), I think you will find that the paragraph I cited from Horton does not do the concept justice.
    
    Specifically, as points of comparison with what you quote of Guadium et Spes, Kuyper emphasizes the history of mankind, the renewal and development of human society, the gospel having power over body and soul, the work of Christians *in the world* (not merely for the Church or for saving souls), and the *extension* of common grace into the eschaton.
    
    Hopefully my summarizing of Kuyper in the next article will give us better space to see where we disagree (and I’m not so sure how much of Kuyper I myself agree with). Maybe then we can better outline what may be key points of disagreement with “first principles of anthropology”
    
    Loading…

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