Why American evangelicalism is a "bottom-up" religion
Fewer gatekeepers means more division among American evangelicals
The Wall Street Journal recently published a fascinating article about what it calls “the Trump revolution” among American evangelical Christians. Of course, Donald Trump’s influence among evangelicals is nothing new; it may be the most studied phenomenon among scholars, pundits, and laypeople in the history of contemporary evangelicalism.
But this article frames things through the lens of Trump’s increasingly unorthodox positions on issues once central to evangelical political decision making. Citing the former president’s continued popularity with evangelicals despite his softening position on abortion—Trump called Florida’s ban on abortion after six weeks a “terrible mistake”—the WSJ goes on to describe how and why evangelicals “now support Trump for reasons other than” limiting abortion.
Specifically, reporters Francis Rocca and Kris Maher identify a “populist revolution” among evangelicals, something that coincided with Trump’s first campaign for president and is now in full bloom:
Long in the making but catalyzed by the rise of Trump, this shift has inspired many evangelicals to reject their own elites and take a more militant posture against perceived enemies. At a growing number of churches, evangelicals hear sermons on a range of controversial political subjects, from border security to gun rights.
The article reference a sermon from one Tennessee pastor, whom they describe as emblematic of this revolution:
“Here we are ramping up for 2024 and another crucial election, if they don’t steal it or try to indict their way out of it,” [Shahram] Hadian said. “Our response must be, we will not comply. Amen!” An increasing number of people who support such positions now call themselves evangelicals even though they aren’t members of any church, or attend rarely.
That last sentence is crucial, particularly in terms of how we understand the future of evangelical influence in politics. Writing in the New York Times, political scientist Ryan Burge said that a healthy share of the electorate identifies as evangelicals even though they don’t attend church regularly — or even identify as Christian. For Burge, “evangelical” is becoming a synonym for “Republican.”
Burge is quoted in the WSJ article with perhaps the most prescient and valuable observation about the state of American evangelicalism, describing its current manifestation as a “bottom-up religion, more than a top-down religion.” He continues:
“There is no one who speaks for evangelicalism like there used to be. There’s no Billy Graham, there’s no [Jerry] Falwell, there’s no [Pat] Robertson.”
[Burge] noted that Franklin Graham, the son of Billy Graham, was excoriated on social media when he encouraged people to get vaccinated against Covid. “His dad was the pope of modern evangelicalism. And he’s super conservative, and he loves Trump,” Burge said. “Even he can’t guide the evangelical flock anymore.”
The bottom-up nature of American evangelicalism means less influence for traditional elites—such as seminary presidents, flagship publications, and pre-Trump voices—and more influence for leaders with a knack for sensing the direction of prevailing cultural and political winds.
Nondenominational pastors are the biggest beneficiaries of this shift in evangelicalism’s identity — with no denomination to report to, charismatic and even controversial pastors can appeal to disaffected evangelicals excited about Trump’s disruption and upheaval of the American political process. The WSJ quoted Timon Cline of “New Christian Right” magazine American Reformer as saying, “It was cathartic to see someone at least be disruptive of the status quo.”
Why does this matter? As evangelicalism continues to evolve away from traditional denominations and toward decentralized churches, there are fewer institutional checks on “outlier” congregations, fewer gatekeepers establishing the evangelical position on a specific issue, and fewer reasons for firebrands within evangelicalism to “conform” to traditional Christian positions on social and political issues, such as abortion and marriage. This is especially true when these actors can boast a commitment to “owning the libs” and defeating encroaching secularism in the name of preserving a “God and country” identity for the United States.
All this means a continued fracturing among American evangelicalism. Side A will accuse Side B of abandoning their Christian witness to a world in need of the hope of the gospel, in exchange for temporal political victories. Side B will accuse Side A of refusing to speak truth in an increasingly post-Christian, negative world, in exchange for a meaningless seat at the table of secular culture. In some ways, both “sides” are correct.
As we head into 2024, there is no reason to believe that American evangelicals will change their political course. It’s unlikely for evangelicalism to suddenly revert to a top-down movement, if it ever really was one. Still, the WSJ article concluded with an interesting admission from Pastor Hadian, from Tennessee:
“We need to pray for [Trump], because I see he’s a different man than he was in 2016 when he was the outsider,” Hadian said recently to followers online. “We’ve got to be careful not to put all our hope and trust in one man.”
One day Trump will no longer dominate the political conversation among American evangelicals. What happens then is far more interesting than how evangelicals vote next year.