With the 2024 U.S. presidential race still unnervingly tight, white evangelicals could once again play a decisive role in determining the country’s—and the world’s—fate for at least the next four years.
Trump’s support among this group remains strong: More than two-thirds of white evangelicals nationwide and up to 79 percent in battleground states like North Carolina say they will vote for him.
This continues to perplex many onlookers, religious and non-religious alike. Even a basic understanding of theology reveals Trump’s disregard for core Christian values like honesty, compassion, and care for the marginalized.
But as a former evangelical Christian with two theology degrees, I’m not surprised. Having spent more than ten years as part of the evangelical church in Britain, I understand the evangelical mindset—and Trump’s appeal aligns perfectly with many aspects of it.
At the core of the evangelical psyche is a worldview that interprets many events in light of a cosmic conflict between good and evil, epitomized by God and Satan. While many Christians, especially from liberal or progressive groups, interpret Satan as a metaphor, many evangelicals (especially evangelical Republicans) view the Devil as a literal entity.
This partly explains why evangelicals are so impassioned about political issues. In my church, I heard everything from loosening cannabis laws to the Harry Potter books being framed as the work of Satan. Issues that seem relatively minor to some are, for evangelicals, part of a grand cosmic battle.
For many evangelical Republicans, Democrats are pursuing the agenda of the Devil, while Trump is sent by God to pursue his will, whether by undoing the harm from current Democratic policies or preventing Democrats from achieving more. This means, for example, that many see Trump’s slew of criminal charges not as the just consequences of his actions, but as the malicious work of evil forces trying to undermine him. Evangelical preacher Hank Kunneman expresses this sentiment in his statement that “This is really a battle between good and evil . . . . There’s something on President Trump that the enemy fears: It’s called the anointing.”
For Kunneman and other television preachers, according to Reuters, the upcoming election is nothing less than “a fight for America’s soul” in which “a persecuted Trump has God’s protection.”
This mentality also illuminates another well-known aspect of evangelicalism: fixation on culture war issues. The culture wars historically referred to conflicts between religious and secular forces, but today’s culture wars center on issues such as abortion, gender, immigration, and the teaching of civil rights history.
In the evangelical church I attended in the 2000s, sermons often focused heavily on topics such as abortion and homosexuality, despite how little these impacted the daily lives of members of the congregation. Both abortion and same-sex relationships were also condemned in absolute terms by influential evangelical figures like Billy Graham.
These topics are divisive because they evoke strong emotions on both sides. For liberals and progressives, human rights are at stake; for many conservative evangelicals, Christian values and even Christianity itself are under threat.
Chris Martinson, a Trump supporter in Wisconsin, articulated this fear: “It seems like right now, there’s a movement to try to purge people who have traditional Christian values . . . that don’t accept things like that there should be a special set of rights for transgender [people].” Trump’s own lack of Christian values did not deter Martinson from voting for him. “We’re hiring a President . . . not . . . the pastor of a church,” Martinson said.
Caleb Cinnamon, an evangelical in Dayton, Ohio, told the Associated Press in May that Trump’s pro-life Supreme Court appointments were his rationale for supporting the former President: “Trump’s really the first President who’s not only vocalized an anti-abortion stance but also put action behind it.” For evangelicals, fighting abortion is fighting the work of Satan himself—a belief reinforced for many evangelicals by, for example, the Satanic Temple in Texas publicly supporting reproductive rights.
For many evangelicals, fighting the forces of evil on these issues is also about their view of America’s status before God. This concern with America’s esteem in the eyes of God is in line with Christian nationalism, a view with which two-thirds of American evangelical Protestants identify.
There isn’t an exclusive definition of Christian nationalism, but it is generally characterized by two aspects: the belief that “the federal government should declare the United States a Christian nation” (which would be in conflict with the First Amendment) and the belief in American exceptionalism—the idea that the United States is uniquely blessed by God. Christian nationalists are likely to believe that “the success of the United States is part of God’s plan.”
This view is damaging not simply because of its inherent superiority complex, but also due to its associations with white supremacy. As writer Tim Alberta put it, “for much of American history, white Christians have enjoyed tremendous wealth and influence and security.” Alberta explained that this view leads some to see America as God’s chosen nation—a “new Israel” with a special relationship with God that needs to be protected. This perspective leads Christian nationalist evangelicals to believe that “you have to fight for America as if salvation itself hangs in the balance.”
This belief partly explains the particular hostility of evangelicals toward immigration, as well as their view that “it’s America first.”
Given how deeply ingrained these three themes—good versus evil, culture war issues, and Christian nationalism—are in the evangelical mindset, can progressives ever influence their votes?
Non-evangelicals may simply argue that the United States is a secular nation, or that human rights outweigh evangelical beliefs. But, with the centrality of these three themes to the evangelical world view, it is unlikely that being confronted with such arguments will sway their votes. As Jonathan Haidt explained in The Righteous Mind, humans are hardwired to stay fiercely loyal to their ideological tribes, so dismissing evangelicals’ beliefs will only reinforce them.
A more effective approach might be to emphasize that Democrats and progressives are not the enemy. Highlighting Kamala Harris’s own Baptist Christian background could be a good starting point.
It is important to acknowledge faith, not dismiss it, when discussing issues across this divide. Harris negotiates this well in the debate on reproductive rights, arguing that “one does not have to abandon their faith or deeply held beliefs to agree [that] the government, and Donald Trump certainly, should not be telling a woman what to do with her body.” This shifts the discussion away from the Christian view of abortion to the right of the government to interfere in personal decisions.
Evangelicals could benefit from recalling the core of their faith: seeking God’s kingdom, not idolizing political power or a particular nation.
Crucially, it’s essential for activists to find common ground with evangelicals, which would help to reduce the temptation to interpret all political arguments through the lens of good versus evil. In my evangelical days, I was rarely persuaded by someone overtly hostile to or dismissive of my faith. But I was very open to those who spoke in reasonable terms about values that Christians and non-Christians may share. These include compassion, mercy, and honesty—themes that figure far more prominently in the Bible than sex, gender, or abortion.
Progressives should be encouraged by the fact that a group of evangelical Christians recently published a statement rejecting political polarization and “the false teaching that anyone other than Jesus Christ has been anointed by God as our Savior, or that a Christian’s loyalty should belong to any political party.”
In November, many evangelicals will vote for Trump no matter what. But by acknowledging their beliefs, showing respect, and seeking common values, some might just be persuaded that Trump is not the savior they think he is.