At the podium in Unionville, Boykin speaks at length about the communist threat. By the time he sits down, it feels like we’ve been on a trip down memory lane in a neighborhood shaped by red scares and Dr. Strangelove. Other, more youthful, speakers brought to us by the Values Bus, however, take to the stage with forward-looking ideas.
Perhaps the most dynamic presenter at the Unionville event is a pastor and political activist named J. C. Church. Mr. Church, who now serves as the FRC’s national director of ministry engagement and who also happens to be a council member of POTUS Shield, is here to tell us about the time he turned Ohio red. In vivid terms he recounts how twelve years ago he packed his family into a motor home, drove 14,000 miles up and down Ohio, and visited 2,500 churches in eighty-six of the state’s eighty-eight counties.
That initiative, called Awake 88, is still in place today. The website for Awake 88 promises “timelines, tools, suggested messaging, videos,” and other support for pastors. “We need your help to mobilize the voters in your church!” the website exclaims. One tool advertised by Awake 88 is the Church Voter Lookup, which essentially marries a church database with a voter database. “You’ll then receive a report that tells you what percentage of your congregation is registered to vote and what percentage actually voted in the last election!”15
The payoff for all those years of work, J. C. Church exults, came in 2016. “If you watched, the map was turning red, eighty-one of eighty-eight counties in Ohio went red. You know why? We had to beat the money, the media, our party, the left, our governor, et cetera. And you know why? Because pastors partnered together, were preaching and praying, and they mobilized and used their influence to get people to turn out and vote.”
Mr. Church makes clear that turning Ohio red has nothing to do with keeping it white. In fact, much of the Awake 88 effort is targeted specifically at Latino pastors. This lines up with a message I’ve been hearing at activist gatherings. At the September 2018 Values Voters Summit, super-lobbyist Ralph Reed made the point bluntly. Mocking the mainstream pundits, he said, “They’re always talking about racial issues, it’s all about race and ethnicity. Not true! If you back evangelicals out of the white vote, Donald Trump loses with whites.” Reed is absolutely right about the top-line numbers, but he appears to brush off the ways in which conservative white evangelical religion and racism often reinforce each other. This reality stands in uncomfortable contradiction with the leaders’ goals of expanding Christian nationalism to religious people of color. Reed, like others in the movement, is hopeful that large numbers of Latino and Black Americans will soon be on the “right” side of history.
Black pastors, too, are part of the target group. While most of the attendees in Unionville are white, perhaps a half dozen Black pastors and associates are in the room. “There is a sleeping giant out here, it is the Black community and the Black church,” says Bishop Larry Jackson, another presenter at the conference. A bald man with an attentive expression, he speaks in somewhat plaintive tones about the power of effecting change through racial unity. “I’m thinking about the need in the Black community and the need that they’re waiting to be delivered from what they’re under,” he tells the crowd. “And I want you to understand that your voice to them will mean more than you can ever imagine. Many times more than my voice to them even as a Black man …
“It’s not revival until the entire church is working as one together,” he adds.
For Mr. Church, in any case, the agenda extends well beyond the colors of Ohio. Reaching the climax of his stemwinder, he thunders that “the number one thing” anybody can give another person is “the supreme Christ.” But “the second greatest thing we can give this generation,” he swiftly adds, “is the Supreme Court.”
And then he opens a window on the vision that drives him and his fellow passengers on the Values Bus relentlessly forward. “What’s hanging in the balance in the next thirty-three days will determine the next thirty-three years of this nation,” he announces. “If we can secure the judiciary, from the Supreme Court on down, we can build a firewall for our children and grandchildren that they just might scale the seven mountains of influence.”
The “seven mountains,” of course, are the seven areas of human civilization that C. Peter Wagner wrote about and that, according to dominionist theology, “true” Christians must seek to control. I glance over at General Boykin’s table, and it occurs to me that if the dominionist agenda calls for military action, he is a designated hitter. Once atop those seven mountains, the plan is to convert the world to Christianity and prepare for the second coming of Jesus. Which could involve an apocalyptic end for the earth, rapture for the faithful, and eternal torment for everyone else. That, it would seem, is the intended final destination of the Values Bus.
As the program winds down, Chris and I head out into the sunlight. Even though it is early October, the temperature outside is nearly 90 degrees. I take off my cardigan and enjoy the warmth of the sun on my shoulders. We get into the car and Chris steers it back toward Charlotte.
For the first few minutes Chris is silent. We pass barns and trees and cows and pretty houses with vegetable gardens and orchards, old and modestly constructed wooden churches, the lush landscape of the South. Chris cracks the silence. “It’s ten degrees hotter than normal, and these people don’t believe in climate science,” he grumbles. Then his words start tumbling out like a waterfall.
“Do we not owe people more than simply reducing ‘pro-life’ to one issue?” he says. “I mean, no one wants babies to die. No one is ‘pro-abortion.’ That is a false dichotomy. Do we not owe more to people than to force them into one box or another? As much as abortion is a pro-life issue, so is affordable health care, access to contraceptives, and real, comprehensive sex education. Minimum wage. Fighting poverty. These should all be part of the ‘pro-life’ conversation.”
Chris falls into silence for a few minutes, then speaks again.
“And shouldn’t we show compassion to people regardless of how they identify? They, too, are made in God’s image. We find in Scripture the imperative to love our neighbors and care for the least of these. That is by far one of the clearest messages we receive.”
I feel bad for Chris; he seems dismayed by the event precisely because the Bible is his greatest source of comfort and moral direction. He tells me he is hesitant to encourage civic duty from the pulpit, because he doesn’t see it as his role. “I don’t see myself pastorally as having an obligation to the U.S.A. I see my obligation as being to the kingdom of God,” he says. “Our church hosts the Rotary Club each week, and I’m a member. I will stand during the Pledge of Allegiance, but I won’t recite it. Because that space for me is sacred, and in that sacred space, I’m not willing to pledge allegiance to anything but God.
“I will occasionally mention political topics from the pulpit but not partisan ones,” he continues. “The Bible is inherently political in that it routinely speaks against people who abuse their power in order to oppress other people.”
Stopping at a red light, Chris picks up his Bible and turns to the Old Testament book of Amos.
“Here, for instance, in chapter five, the prophet says, ‘You, Israel, you were supposed to take care of the poor and you’re not doing it,’ ” Chris says. “ ‘You’re using power and wealth to tilt the system in your favor.’ For society to be just, it was necessary for everyone to be seen as equal.” He falls silent for a few moments, “Sometimes,” he adds, “it’s almost like people are reading a different Bible. That’s the trick with Scripture. You can make the Bible say just about anything you want it to.”
Chris directs me to Psalm 121, which he likes to read aloud to bedridden or hospital-bound congregants, or those facing the end of life. “The LORD watches over you—the LORD is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The LORD will keep you from all harm—he will watch over your life …”
The psalm is soothing, comforting, uplift
ing. It reminds me of the complexity of the Bible and also its flashes of lucidity, which makes it so open to interpretation and exploitation.
Coming in off the highway, I remind myself that North Carolina is a much bigger place than the fellowship hall at the Unionville Baptist Church. Many people who identify as Christians here—in fact, perhaps most—live a world apart from the dark, paranoid visions of the day’s Pastors Briefing. I think of the Reverend William Barber again, and the voices of progress that have gathered around his “Moral Mondays.” And I think of Episcopal bishop Michael Curry, previously the bishop of the Diocese of North Carolina and perhaps best known for delivering the sermon at the 2018 wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. Curry, too, is an outspoken opponent of Christian nationalism and a committed supporter of marriage equality, interfaith dialogue, and other progressive causes.
The same voices of progress can be heard across the nation. In July 2019, hundreds of clergy representing a variety of mainline and progressive Christian denominations endorsed a new initiative, Christians Against Christian Nationalism.16 In October 2018 the National Council of Churches, an organization representing dozens of Protestant denominations and millions of U.S. congregants, issued a rare statement opposing the appointment of Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court. Many other Christians have aligned themselves against President Trump and his policies. The progressive Jesus-follower activists behind the Vote Common Good tour have made their own, shorter peregrinations through Ohio. Since 2016, hundreds of progressive pastors have gathered in Washington, D.C., to rally in support of the Affordable Care Act and to oppose several of Trump’s cabinet and Supreme Court picks. And the Evangelical Environmental Network, a faith-based environmentalist movement, advocates for sensible climate policies by urging fellow evangelicals to “walk together as disciples of Christ faithfully following God’s call to be good stewards of creation.”17
But, for now, progressive religious voices have figured out only how to grab a headline here or there for the benefit of sympathetic audiences. They do not know how to seize the reins of political power. The leaders of the Unionville Pastors Briefing do.
While Chris was finished with the Pastors Briefing, it was not finished with him. After settling back in at home, Chris dodged the inevitable follow-up calls from representatives of FRC for several days. But he continued to receive emails from the organization through the midterm elections, after which he finally unsubscribed.
“Dear Chris,” one email read, “We have a number of FREE Tools for you to use on the next two Sundays to encourage your people to get out and vote their Biblical values on November 6.”
Penned by Dr. Kenyn M. Cureton, vice president for Christian Resources, the email promised an “Announcement Slide”; a “full-text Sermon Starter” on the theme of “For the Sake of America”; a printable, downloadable “Values Voter Bulletin Insert”; and videos from Tony Perkins to air at church. Such sophisticated tools promote a clear message for how congregants ought to vote and make it easy for the pastor to deliver the “correct” talking points.
“Point your people to 501c3 IRS compliant Voter Guides available at iVoterGuide.com where they can simply put in their zip code and get federal and state race guides,” the email urged. “A basic patriotic action step is to vote biblical values.”18
As one of his first acts in office, President Trump vowed to “totally destroy” the Johnson Amendment.19 At the Values Voter Summit in 2018, Vice President Mike Pence boasted that the Johnson Amendment “will no longer be enforced under this administration.” But he vowed to repeal it anyway.
As the gatherings like this one at Unionville make clear, the point of talking about the repeal of the Johnson Amendment is not, in fact, to repeal it. It has already been vetoed on the ground. Churches and preachers are some of the most valuable political operatives in America today, and they work mostly (though not exclusively) on the side of the Republican party. Since churches are subsidized with public money through tax deductions and other tax advantages, one could say that the United States now has a publicly subsidized political party that promotes an agenda of religious nationalism.
The point of talking up the nonexistent horror of the Johnson Amendment, in fact, is to feed the sense of persecution that is so central to Christian nationalism today. This is why Trump’s and Pence’s promises to neutralize the Johnson Amendment and to “stand up” for “religious freedom” play well to conservative Christian audiences. The narrative that government is stomping all over the rights of Christians and their churches may have little basis in fact, but it is one of the most powerful messages the movement has to drive voters to the polls.
Meanwhile, Watchmen on the Wall continues to gain favor with the Trump-Pence administration and allied politicians. Along with the ringing endorsement of the organization from Vice President Mike Pence, it is clear that the pretense of neutrality has vanished. One political party endorses ultraconservative varieties of religion and it is exploiting them to lock in power. This is how the Christian nationalist movement works.
All of this has been building up so slowly, and become so familiar, that Americans have come to take for granted that it is part of the natural order of things. We have become so used to the identification of “values voters” with the Republican Party that we no longer remember a time when neither party had a monopoly on God. We have heard the single-issue, pro-life or -death refrain so many times that we no longer remember a time when America’s houses of worship, including conservative ones, tended to approach a vast range of issues that affect our society with the humility and appreciation of their complexity that is their due. We have been exposed to so much extreme rhetoric—and so many apocalyptic visions for world domination—that we no longer remember the time when such ideas and those who espoused them were nowhere near the center of political power.
Yet there was such a time, and it wasn’t so long ago. How we got from there to here is the subject of the remaining chapters of this book.
CHAPTER 2
Ministering to Power
The game of power really has two sides. You reach outside to voters and tell them what they need to hear so they will vote in your favor. But you also step inside and gather with the powerful individuals who actually call the shots. In recent years the Christian nationalist movement has had extraordinary success in playing the inside game.
Even while some missionaries organize bus tours to mobilize pastors and voters in swing districts across the nation, others are walking the hallways of power, cultivating leaders and brokering deals between big money and big government. In the Trump administration, activists who in an earlier time would have been identified as extremists lead prayer and “Bible study” sessions with officials at the highest levels of the executive and legislative branches, in federal and state governments. At the same time they work with some of America’s wealthiest individuals and families, many of whom fund the careers of the same politicians, to bring forth policies that are favorable to plutocratic fortunes and advance their political vision.
Outside observers tend to think that the political religion of the movement emanates from the large population of conservative Christian voters to whom it appeals. According to the conventional wisdom, the movement is simply an effort to preserve so-called traditional values and, perhaps more critically, to restore a sense of pride and privilege to a part of the American population that feels that its status is slipping. But a closer look at the substance of that political religion, in the context of the movement’s involvement with political elites, tells a very different story. Most of the political vision of Christian nationalism is decided in the inside game. After all, the Bible can be used to promote any number of political positions. Many would argue that it generally favors helping the poor, for example. But the Bible of Christian nationalism answers to the requirements of the individuals who fund the movement and grant it power at the highest levels of government.
In the past two years, perhaps
no Christian nationalist leader has had better luck playing the inside game than Ralph Drollinger. A onetime athlete and sports evangelist from California, Drollinger now leads weekly “Bible study” in the White House for cabinet secretaries and other officials—Mike Pence has reportedly attended—and his operation is rapidly expanding, both domestically through state capitols and among political leaders overseas. In hopes of learning more about the keys to his success, I find myself on the road to Tulare, a city in California’s San Joaquin Valley, where Trump’s secretary of agriculture, Sonny Perdue, headlines a $10,000-a-table celebration of Capitol Ministries, the group that Drollinger founded.1
Tulare is surrounded by some of the most productive farmland in the United States. Kale, cherries, peaches, brussels sprouts, almonds—nearly half of America’s fruit, vegetables, and nuts are grown in California, along with 20 percent of the nation’s dairy. Multigenerational mom-and-pop farms are sandwiched between agribusiness conglomerates. The landscape is dotted with taco stands, gun shops, and community health centers.
Signs about water policy punctuate the highway like mile markers of a changing political topography. “No Water = No Jobs,” says one. “Is growing food a waste of water?” asks another. “No to Bullet Train; Yes to Water Dams!” says a third, referring to the plan, favored by coastal elites, for a high-speed rail connecting north and south. In national political discussions, California counts as a blue state. But this is California, too: culturally conservative, steeped in resentment directed at the people flying overhead or populating the coastline, and largely Republican. This part of California, as it happens, is also heavily dependent on government subsidies, government-sanctioned water distribution rights, and undocumented labor.
The Power Worshippers Page 4
