If Donald Trump gets a little bored on his flight home from the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, he can always page through a book handed to him by a delegate not long after he arrived: “God and Donald Trump.”
The volume, written by Stephen Strang, a leading Pentecostal figure and the longtime publisher of Charisma magazine, is an easy read—part spiritual hagiography, part Fox News bulletin and part prophecy. It ultimately says far less about Trump than about the charismatic Pentecostals who were some of his earliest religious supporters and who now view his election as the fulfillment of God’s will.
Subscribe to our Newsletter for Weekly Trending Topics
The genre of spiritual hagiography last flourished during the presidency of George W. Bush, who was the subject of four books about religion and one documentary (“George W. Bush: Faith in the White House”) during his first term alone. In Bush, authors had something they could work with. He had a much-documented mid-life experience of being born again, was a regular church attender in Texas, and spoke about God and Jesus in ways that sounded natural.
Nevertheless, writers like David Aikman often resorted to intuiting Bush’s faith and presenting as evidence of his deep spiritual commitment his fondness for healthy food and exercise (does the Bible not direct believers to treat the body as a temple for God?) and the behavior of White House staff (“though manners are not specifically connected to George W.’s personal religious faith, it was as though the discipline he brought to his own life of prayer and Bible study filtered down into the work habits of everyone who worked with him”).
But if Aikman and others had to reach a bit to fill out a book about Bush and faith, their subject was practically St. Francis of Assisi compared with the current occupant of the Oval Office.
Subscribe to our Newsletter for Weekly Trending Topics
Strang, who sat down with Trump briefly during the campaign but did not interview him for the book, wisely spends little time trying to divine the president’s personal religious views and commitments—though he does devote a chapter to arguing that Trump’s children are “a reflection of his core values,” while his three marriages and multiple admitted affairs are a reflection of nothing of note. Instead, Strang attempts to explain evangelical fervor for Trump and provides a window into the world of charismatics, a subset of evangelical Christians who believe God still speaks to people through prophesies and is still actively involved in arranging the world of human affairs.
From early in Trump’s presidential candidacy, his biggest religious supporters—indeed, his only religious supporters for a while—were charismatic Christians like pastors Paula White and Darrell Scott. They were drawn to Trump, and he to them, because of their embrace of the prosperity gospel. Also sometimes referred to as “health and wealth” theology, this belief holds that God rewards faith with good health and financial success. By those very simple metrics, a billionaire like Donald Trump, whether his fortune came from family, scams or a higher power, must be a very faithful man.
Other religious conservatives, Strang argues, supported Trump in 2016 for reasons familiar to any Fox News viewer: a fear of globalism, the deep state, George Soros the former Nazi collaborator, wide-scale election fraud. They liked Trump because he said he liked them, told them they were persecuted, and vowed to stand up for them. He said he would bring back “Merry Christmas.” He told them they were important.
Facebook
Instagram
RSS