An Off-Key Christmas Carol

What would Jesus have us do about Donald Trump and his movement?

Amid an enjoyable Christmas celebration with my family, notifications about an “unhinged” rant on Truth Social from Donald Trump kept appearing from the various news apps installed on my smartphone. I eventually opened one of the news articles and read about it, and his screed was breathtaking. I won’t share or link to it here since it’s not hard to find, and I don’t care to promote it, but suffice it to say that wishing one’s perceived opponents to “rot in hell” while also saying “Merry Christmas” is out of the norm for a typical holiday greeting!

Trump’s angry missive during a time when our thoughts are typically occupied by giving, celebration, and prayers for peace on earth troubles me. Other world leaders and influencers took the time to acknowledge the season and wish others good cheer.

Even troops engaged in months of bloody trench warfare on the Western Front during World War I stopped and paid homage to Christmas:

Late on Christmas Eve 1914, men of the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) heard German troops in the trenches opposite them singing carols and patriotic songs and saw lanterns and small fir trees along their trenches. Messages began to be shouted between the trenches.

The following day, British and German soldiers met in no man's land and exchanged gifts, took photographs and some played impromptu games of football. They also buried casualties and repaired trenches and dugouts. After Boxing Day, meetings in no man's land dwindled out.

~ The Imperial War Museum, “The Real Story of the Christmas Truce”

Not everyone on the Western Front participated, and it never happened again after 1914. Nevertheless, the story of the unofficial Christmas truce of 1914 endures as an example of the profound effect of Christmas on the human heart. When stationed in what was then West Germany during the Cold War, I recall the 24-hour indications and warning watch on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which were always the quietest shifts of the year. It was as if the Warsaw Pact stood down to honor the season. Of course, NATO forces did the same.

Not so for Donald J. Trump. Regardless of the holiday, commemoration, or tribute, in his world, it’s always Festivus and always about the airing of grievances. I mentioned before that his latest statement troubled me, and some may wonder why I would waste time or emotional energy on him. This isn’t his first jeremiad and won’t be his last. They’ve become as reliable as the sunrise.

The reason I have a check in my spirit, as one of my former pastors says, is because I want to be more like Jesus every day. In the words of the late Stephen Covey, one of the habits I try to cultivate to achieve Christlikeness is to “seek first to understand, then to be understood.”

I struggle with how to be like Jesus to someone like Trump. He was born into wealth and privilege, yet he is self-centered, angry, insulting, mean, and insecure. He often punches down, disparaging and dehumanizing those he perceives as lesser than him. After witnessing him in the public square for almost forty years - he first entered my consciousness as the brash owner of the New Jersey Generals of the United States Football League - I’ve concluded that he is a damaged individual. To be clear, we are all wounded in some form or fashion, but many of us spend our lives trying to heal or make peace with our afflictions. Trump seems to have let his wounds poison him.

Even as I ponder how to be like Jesus to Donald Trump, I am more confounded by the tens of millions who watch him act out his trauma daily and still see him as the answer to their troubles. I once attributed their support of Trump to the economic and cultural despair that envelops white working-class America:

I have come to realize there is real tragedy in the lives of these people, who feel that the political elites in both parties have left them to die. As one study highlighted, this is not hyperbole - a segment of the white middle and working class in America is dying in numbers akin to what one would see in developing nations, with a mortality rate that exceeds even that of blacks and Hispanics.

The indignity of lost economic security and cultural relevance led to what sociologists Angus Deaton and Anne Case called “deaths of despair” due to drug and alcohol abuse and suicide. According to their 2015 study, among middle-aged white Americans with a high school education or less, “Half a million people are dead who should not be dead.”

Such despair leads to resentment, so at the time, I thought I grasped why these people would see Trump as an answer. The “system,” however you define it, had left them behind, and he was promising to bludgeon it with a baseball bat and make it work for them again.

However, my observation is that he hasn’t materially improved their circumstances but has fanned their resentments into a raging inferno that consumes all who don’t fit into their tribe and erodes trust in the political, legal, and social institutions that stabilize a free society to the point where no one believes in them and they have become the enemy. The MAGA movement’s wholesale destruction of the social order threatens the sustainability of the shared vision that has undergirded the American experiment from the beginning. Rather than being a provider of solutions, Donald Trump is an agent of chaos. While the future is uncertain, it’s clear that he will have the means to survive whatever comes, while those he is whipping into a frenzy won’t be so fortunate.

My initial compassion for their plight has been replaced by exasperation as they double down on their support of this manipulative man whose status as an elite, albeit a crude and pugnacious one, stands in stark contrast to their life circumstances. He is not one of them, and none of the dismissive statements about his supporters attributed to him in private conversations surprise me. His public statement about how his supporters would remain loyal even if he committed a crime in front of thousands of witnesses isn’t a compliment:

I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn't lose any voters, OK? It's, like, incredible.

~ Donald J. Trump

Then there are the evangelical Christians who excuse or rationalize his behavior or embrace him unconditionally as “God’s appointed” leader. Setting aside for the moment that Romans 13:1 makes it clear that all governing authorities rule at God’s behest, even those we reject, there is no biblical justification for endorsing Donald Trump’s behavior:

People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God--having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with them. (2 Timothy 3:2-5)

As for a person who stirs up division, after warning him once and then twice, have nothing more to do with him, knowing that such a person is warped and sinful; he is self-condemned. (Titus 3:10-11)

Make no friendship with a man given to anger, nor go with a wrathful man, lest you learn his ways and entangle yourself in a snare. (Proverbs 22:24-25)

Trump’s invectives are characterized by hate, but we who follow Christ are told that we are liars and live in darkness if we say we love the unseen God yet hate our brother who we can see (1 John 2:9; 1 John 4:20). Even the Old Testament warns us to reject hate and leave vengeance to the Lord:

You shall not hate your brother in your heart, but you shall reason frankly with your neighbor, lest you incur sin because of him. You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against the sons of your own people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the Lord. (Leviticus 19:17-18)

Regrettably, it seems the last thing many American evangelical Christians want to do is be like Jesus, especially in the political arena. The Beatitudes are dismissed as “liberal talking points” and “weak,” and being “gentle and lowly in heart” like Jesus (Matthew 11:29) is considered a losing political strategy. In my attempts to understand why evangelical Christians are one of Donald Trump’s most reliable voting blocs, I’ve concluded that they have melded political objectives they believe are consistent with their faith, opposition to abortion chief among them, with a mindset of the ends justifying the means. This has led to the improbable comparison of Trump to King Cyrus of Persia, who allowed the Jews to return to Israel from 70 years of exile and assisted them in rebuilding the temple in Jerusalem. If God can use a pagan king to His ends, goes the logic, He can use an imperfect vessel like Donald Trump to protect the unborn, return the U.S. embassy to Jerusalem, and shield evangelical Christians from a hostile secular culture.

However, with Trump, we were not under the reign of a dictator we had not chosen yet whose heart God moved to show us favor. We made a conscious choice of a man who, despite evangelicals’ protestations to the contrary, previously eschewed the need for repentance, an essential step to becoming a Christian, and does not exhibit the fruit of the Holy Spirit - “love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23). Trump does not even follow the Lord’s edict to the kings of Israel:

And when he sits on the throne of his kingdom, he shall write for himself in a book a copy of this law, approved by the Levitical priests. And it shall be with him, and he shall read in it all the days of his life, that he may learn to fear the Lord his God by keeping all the words of this law and these statutes, and doing them, that his heart may not be lifted up above his brothers, and that he may not turn aside from the commandment, either to the right hand or to the left, so that he may continue long in his kingdom, he and his children, in Israel. (Deuteronomy 17:18-20)

If Trump consults with any book, it’s likely his memoir and business advice book, Trump: The Art of the Deal.

As for Trump’s victories on behalf of American evangelical Christians, these are not God’s aims but our own. There is no Biblical mandate for the U.S. embassy to reside in Jerusalem. As for protecting the unborn, imagine Jesus appealing to the magistrates to enact his commands rather than appealing to the hearts and minds of the people who heard him teach! If Jesus taught us anything, the law is a poor substitute for heart change, and if we rely on the law for our salvation, we are doomed. Consider this sobering statistic one year after the Dobbs decision overturning Roe v. Wade, supposedly Trump’s greatest gift to American evangelical Christians:

In the year after the Supreme Court ended the constitutional right to abortion, something unexpected happened: The total number of legal abortions in the United States did not fall. Instead, it appeared to increase slightly, by about 0.2 percent, according to the first full-year count of abortions provided nationwide.

This finding came despite the fact that 14 states banned all abortions, and seven imposed new limits on them.

The hard work of caring for mothers who don’t want to be pregnant and ensuring their well-being and that of their children before and after birth requires more than court rulings and abortion bans. It requires being the hands and feet of Jesus in their lives every day, and while I commend the many who make those sacrifices to be fully present in their lives, their work goes unheralded while the actions of aggressive judges and lawmakers get the headlines. I recognize that secular culture has much to do with that, but we own much of it, too.

The last point I want to make about Trump’s supposed accomplishments for evangelical Christians is that the Bible doesn’t guarantee protection from a hostile culture. If anything, we are guaranteed trials in this world (John 16:33) and told that the world will hate us for our faith (John 15:18), although I would contend that a healthy percentage of the hate directed toward us is not because we follow Jesus, but because we don’t.

I don't think our faithfulness is the only reason we are hated, and it may not even be the primary reason. As I have said to my students, "If we're to be hated, let's be hated for the right reasons."

As we stand for our faith, are we doing it "with gentleness and respect"? Are we "gentle and lowly in heart?" Do we endure trials with grace and without resistance? Do we truly love those who despise us and pray for them, even in the midst of the suffering they inflict on us?

Our response to sufferings should be to glory in them (Romans 5:3-5) and consider them pure joy (James 1:2-4) because they form our Christian character and further solidify our identity in and intimacy with Christ (Philippians 3:10). As author Vaneetha Rendall Risner writes:

Whatever you are dealing with, you can find your suffering in Christ’s. He knows what it’s like to hunger and thirst, to endure sleepless nights and exhausting days, to experience agonizing pain, and to pour himself out for others who are hostile in return. His cousin was murdered, his family misunderstood him, his hometown rejected him, and he watched as a sword pierced his mother’s soul. People used Jesus, flattered him, criticized him, lied about him, betrayed him, abandoned him, mocked him, humiliated him, whipped him, and watched him die an excruciating death.

So where can you identify with him in your suffering? If you have ever been betrayed by a friend, someone you loved and trusted, you can know a little of Christ’s fellowship in suffering. Or if you have ever begged God to remove your anguish, and God denied your desperate request, you can know a little of Christ’s fellowship in suffering. Or if you have experienced tormenting, all-consuming physical pain with no relief, you can know a little of Christ’s fellowship in suffering.

There is no suffering we can experience that our Lord cannot relate to. And as we experience a portion of what he did and yield to him in it, we find a precious intimacy with him.

Notably, in terms of privilege, the apostle Paul had it all. He wrote, “If anyone else thinks he has reason for confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless.” Despite his prominent place in society, he willingly surrendered it and took upon himself the suffering of the Christian life:

Are they servants of Christ? I am a better one—I am talking like a madman—with far greater labors, far more imprisonments, with countless beatings, and often near death. Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure. And, apart from other things, there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the churches. (2 Corinthians 11:23–28)

As far as Paul was concerned, his privilege was nothing compared to “the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (Philippians 3:8), and knowing Jesus means to “share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death” (Philippians 3:10).

I’ve shared some of my journey with suffering and how it brought me closer to Christ. The notion we are entitled to a particular status because of our faith is particularly American and thoroughly unbiblical.

So how are those of us who not only follow Jesus but strive daily to be like Him and, to quote my colleague and friend, Daniel DeWitt, “don’t care about any of that stuff that really isn’t thoroughly Christian,” supposed to respond to the man and the movement? Jesus gives us the Golden Rule and a barb for those who love only those they find lovable:

And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them. If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. (Luke 6:31–33)

Jesus says that loving those who don’t love us and expecting nothing in return leads to a great reward and makes us “sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil” (Luke 6:35).

I should point out that I don’t subscribe to the notion that those with whom I disagree are evil, even if they don’t return the courtesy. Jesus’ point is clear; He extends grace and mercy to us despite ourselves, and if we’re to be like Him, we must do the same for others.

Paul tells us to engage with God in multiple ways on behalf of those in positions of power:

First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way. This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth. (1 Timothy 2:1–4)

Once again, we are promised something good for our efforts, and it’s for the same reason. We worship a God who cares about everyone and wants everyone to come to Him.

Therefore, my path forward is clear if I am sincere about wanting to be more like Christ. I didn’t say it would be easy, and I’m also reminded of what Jesus said to his disciples as he sent them out into the world:

And if anyone will not receive you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet when you leave that house or town. (Matthew 10:14)

God is love, and He wants everyone to come to Him and leave the things of this world to the world. However, He’s not going to waste his time on immovable objects, and I suppose it’s OK if we move on should our attempts at engagement fall on deaf ears or, worse, are met with an invitation to rot in hell. That doesn’t keep me from praying for them, and that’s a habit I need to cultivate in 2024, which I’m convinced will be one hell of a year and an opportunity for Christ's followers to shine if we take it.