Opinion: What ‘One Nation Under God’ Does Not Look Like

By Claire Brunner

Abortion on demand. Veterans’ memorials being torn down. Citizens celebrating burning buildings and massive loss of human life. A whole world on fire. While this may sound like a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie, it is, in actuality, a scene typically painted of the imminent future of our country in campaign speeches by leading Republican candidates Ted Cruz and Donald Trump. Both candidates have risen to success largely by playing to the deep fears of the country regarding domestic terrorism, perceived threats to religious liberty, and immigration issues, among others. From rhetoric concerning the certainly amplified threats of Syrian refugees entering our country, it seems alarming, if not deeply disturbing, that these two candidates with largely fear-centered messages have garnered the most support among evangelical voters.

This is especially interesting because this type of movement which takes advantage of the public’s fear is exactly counter to the professed beliefs of these same evangelical voters. In the gospels, Jesus preached countless times concerning the futility of fear, instructing his followers “not to be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul,” that “peace is what [he leaves] with [us]” and reminding us that we cannot add one hour to our lives by worrying. It seems difficult to believe that opting to shut down the government when something does not go one’s way is consistent with keeping the “peace” that Jesus “[left] with us.” Continually making misleading statements encouraging fear in voters, especially in response to the threat of ISIS, compels voters to do exactly the opposite of what Jesus commanded: “not to be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.”

This is not to say that real threats should be simply ignored by Christian leaders, but that fear should not be encouraged by those claiming to abide by Christian values. Through many within the evangelical community likely disagree on how these statements regarding fear should be applied, it is unlikely that the above-mentioned scriptures could be interpreted to qualify taking advantage of the fear of others for political gain.

Instead of refusing to foster fear and loving all people regardless of religion, origin, or ethnicity, conservative evangelical voters are sometimes the first to forget that we, at some point, have all been “stranger[s] in a strange land” and neglect to treat others with the same compassion Jesus demands of his followers. The same group that wants to return America back to the Christian nation that they believe it once was rejects the idea of abiding by the Christian values of compassion, caring for the least of these, and taking in the needy stranger, as soon as their own personal safety is threatened. The Christian nation that they purport to desire would welcome Syrian refugees with open arms. The Christian nation for which they are supposedly fighting wouldn’t refer to women, Muslims, and immigrants in demeaning terms, but would see the inherent worth of all peoples. Threats of personal safety, whether perceived or real, do not seem to qualify as exceptions to Jesus’ teachings about fear and love. As a matter of fact, it seems that Jesus never qualified or mentioned any exceptions to the Golden Rule or his anti-fear message.

So why are professed followers of Jesus the first to line up behind candidates who preach their own gospels of fear? If, as President Obama stated at the recent National Prayer Breakfast, “Jesus is a good cure for fear,” why are evangelicals the group that seems to be buying into fear the most as evidenced by their support of such candidates who attract voters by that very fear? “Why are [we] so afraid?”

One of the many mysteries in politics this summer, evangelical support for “arrogant, loud-mouthed, money obsessed, thrice-married” Republican candidate Donald Trump, sadly does not seem so mysterious anymore in light of other patterns among conservative Christian voters. In early September, Trump was the top choice for religious conservatives. This was, and remains, astounding because of Trump’s seeming lack of any religious conviction. In fact, his support continued to rise for much of the summer despite his admission that he “[doesn’t] bring God into [the] picture” when admitting wrongdoing.

Based on his television persona, Trump does not seem to embody the fruits of the Spirit, core traits highlighted in Christian religious texts. He is not the poster child of the “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” that one might think evangelicals would look for in a candidate. While Trump has lost some support from this group recently, the fact remains that many evangelicals have professed loyalty to a candidate shockingly unrepresentative of the lifestyle outlined by Jesus.

While the current election cycle is merely one, admittedly weighty, example of an evangelical response to a perceived threat to Christianity, it is a manifestation of a larger pattern of inconsistency between the professed beliefs of conservative Christians (the teachings of Jesus Christ) and the political actions and social movements that many often advocate. This is not to say that Christians on the opposite end of the political spectrum are completely devoid of hypocrisy; however, since evangelical voters tend to gravitate toward the political right, that group is especially conspicuous. While evangelical favorites Ted Cruz and Donald Trump lead campaigns determined to wage war against political correctness, it is often evangelical groups who take offense at seemingly inconsequential statements. The apparent offensive nature of the phrase “Happy Holidays” and recent Starbucks holiday cup fiasco are both concrete recent examples. While these campaigns blatantly diminish the offense that minority groups feel, which political correctness often seeks to remedy, they themselves are offended by a seemingly well meaning, popular holiday greeting.

Another example of this ironic sensitivity to perceived threats to Christianity, evangelical culture, etc. is found in conservative evangelicals’ response to the removal of the Confederate battle flag from the grounds of the South Carolina State House, a topic brought into the national spotlight this summer after the brutal murders of nine African Americans in a Charleston church. While this issue divided many in the evangelical community, the main response by those in support of the flag – many of whom were evangelical Christians – centered on the oversensitivity of minorities and others offended by the flag. In light of the Starbucks incident and the continued “War on Christmas,” however, it seems that the very same oversensitivity many evangelicals perceived in minorities has in fact exposed itself among conservative Christians.

While many evangelicals changed their stance on the flag after the mass shooting in Charleston, many who remained in support of its flying might consider the apostle Paul’s advice to “make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification.” Despite the flag’s role as a symbol of the “Southern Pride” that many religious conservatives defend, it has made and continues to make many of their fellow Christians who are African-American uncomfortable, and for good reason. In this instance, many evangelicals in support of the flag might consider the command to “make every effort to do what leads to peace,” even if that means laying aside our “pride” for the sake of unity.

As a personal follower of Jesus Christ, I find that these inconsistencies between the political and social beliefs of conservative Christians and the actual content of their religious texts are both frustrating and not representative of the beliefs of many Christians in our nation. However, such is the nature of politics. Whoever yells the loudest is, unfortunately, the one who tends to be heard. There is clearly something wrong when we make politics the principal manifestation of faith, especially when the politics we support are contrary to the tenets of our faith in the first place.

Long-held tenets of the Christian faith, such as helping the poor and treating others regardless of belief or origin as we would be treated, get lost in much louder messages of anti-political-correctness and our own insecurities that serve as the foundation for the “War on Christianity,” its seasonal, Grinch-like twin, the “War on Christmas,” and the fear-centered campaigns of candidates such as Ted Cruz purporting that “liberal fascism…is dedicated to going after believing Christians.”

So, as the adage goes, what would Jesus do? Or, perhaps even more relevantly, how would Jesus vote? While I don’t believe that Jesus would take much stock in American presidential elections, and I don’t claim to know which candidate he would choose, I can guess with a degree of certainty what ideas he wouldn’t put his name behind. He wouldn’t support keeping those in need out of our country, but would instead “let the little children come to [him]” without hindrance. He wouldn’t alienate people of other religions, but would “love [his] neighbor as [himself].” He would strongly oppose a movement focused on taking advantage of the real fears of others, but would remind us “not to worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.” After all, the Bible tells us not to be afraid hundreds of times. Perhaps hearing that message one more time wouldn’t hurt.