(October 22, 2025)
The Evangelistic Need of Our Day: Disentangling Christ from MAGA Christianity
[This is a timely article by my friend, Rev. Dr. Justin Adour, pastor and co-founder of Redeemer East Harlem, that can be found at their Until Zion site.]
Over the weekend, I again helped lead a group of Christians from various churches—through a non-profit of which I am the Executive Director, Pray March Act—in the No Kings event in NYC. In case you are not aware, No Kings is a movement demanding that our current administration remember they are mere stewards of our Constitution, laws, and system of government—not authorities unto themselves. For what it is worth, despite what some might claim, we are not antifa, Marxists, paid actors, or haters of the United States. We love our nation.
However, the continued unilateral decision-making, extrajudicial killings with weak or non-existent justifications, constant fear-mongering and blame-shifting (including the endless “whataboutisms”), the excessive force and inhuman treatment used in immigration enforcement, the ignoring or marginalizing of the judicial process, the use of government agencies for personal gain or vanity, the demands for loyalty over almost any other standard, and so much more, have been egregious abuses of power. Of course, we know President Trump is not actually a king, but many believe his posture and assumptions continue to erode our constitutional republic. That said, the specific issues with the Trump administration are for another day and, frankly, for others to expound.
The Evangelistic Need of Our Day
Yet, what strikes me is the extent to which, in the midst of the chaos in which we live, we may be missing the evangelistic need of our day. There is a deep and urgent need to disentangle faith in Jesus from MAGA Christianity. When political leaders exalt themselves, especially in ways we have seen recently, Christians must resist by bearing witness to our true King—not only because of the inevitable political corruption, but also because of the spiritual confusion it creates for a watching world.
I was again reminded of how desperately this evangelistic need is through the interactions I have at these rallies. The sign I and others carry, which says, "The only King we serve is our Lord & Savior Jesus Christ," gets a lot of attention. During these rallies, I have countless conversations with people who say things like, “Thank you for marching with that sign,” or “I didn’t think Christians cared about this,” or “I disagree with you theologically, but I appreciate what you’re saying.” For me, protesting and activism have always been part of what it means to be a faithful Christian. But, for many, when they come across a Christian in these settings, it’s as if they’ve stumbled upon a unicorn. Why?
For many, there’s an assumption that Christianity—and, in particular, evangelical Christianity—is MAGA Christianity. Frankly, at this point, I’m not even sure what “evangelical” means anymore. So maybe they’re correct. But while the sign signals how evangelicals tend to talk about their faith—that is, perhaps the most standard evangelical purity test is the extent to which one claims “Jesus is my Lord and Savior”—it also reflects the faith I claim. I am, in nearly every way, theologically and, in many ways, socially conservative. I will save you the reflection, but I could list off all the conservative credentials and commitments I hold.
But the point is simply this: I would absolutely be categorized as a conservative evangelical Christian in the way that category has been historically used. One would be hard-pressed to find a belief in my convictions that do not align with historic, conservative Christianity. And most importantly, my evangelical convictions mean I want people to come to a saving knowledge of Jesus through repentance and faith, as He is the only way of salvation. I want to see people, including myself, submit their lives—body and soul—wholly to Him and live as though He truly is Lord and Savior. Yet—and here is the main point—for many in our current landscape, being a Christian also means submitting to a MAGA version of Christianity. The two have become the same.
Claims of Faith
Additionally, a real issue is also that not everyone who claims “Jesus is Lord and Savior” or says that "Jesus is King" actually believes those claims. Such claims mean nothing if they are mere words. We are reminded in one of the most haunting passages of Scripture, that some will stand before Jesus with claims of working in His name only to hear Him say, “‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’” (Matt. 7:23). This ought to be a sobering passage for us all. It is not enough to say that Jesus is King. We can attach the name of Jesus to anything we want, claiming we are doing His work, but it will be the conduct of our lives, the quality of our character, and the posture of our hearts that will prove whether or not we know Jesus. This is the case for me and anyone who claims the name of Jesus.
Relatedly, my concern is that there is much being written about a revival happening in our nation. However, those claiming this revival often view the rise of a MAGA-style Christianity as proof of that revival. I’m not entirely sure what to make of those claims, and I think time will tell which seeds ultimately have landed on rocky soil or among thorns. I do wonder the extent to which many are claiming the name of Jesus, and even claiming to work in His name, yet in the end, it will be shown that Jesus knows them not. But while such sorting of the sheep and goats is a task for God alone, what I do know is that there are those appalled by this administration who desperately need to know that faith in Jesus is not a faith in MAGA Christianity. Again, this is the evangelistic need of our day.
Disentangling Faith
What do we want people to believe about Jesus? Jesus Christ is King and Lord over all. One day, every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that He is Lord. As our Creator King, He demands that we turn from our sin and rebellion against Him and instead submit every area of our lives to Him. For not only is He King, but He is also Judge—the One before whom we will one day give an account. Yet, out of love for us, Jesus Christ has taken upon Himself the consequences of our sin and rebellion against God. Through this grace, for those who trust in Him for their salvation, when we one day stand before that judgment throne, we can have confidence that it will not be our works that save us, but the work of Jesus on our behalf. And in that knowledge, we can trust that the Spirit of God will sanctify us so that our lives more and more reflect the holiness, righteousness, and purity of Jesus.
That, however, is wholly different from a MAGA-Christianity that attaches those beliefs to propping up, promoting, and even, at times, venerating an administration and movement that is so often antithetical to the nature and character of Christ and His Kingdom. And in case it needs to be said, I also agree that there is much on the other end of the political spectrum that is antithetical to the nature and character of Christ and His Kingdom. The difference is that only one end has attempted to co-opt Christ and the evangelical faith.
For many reading this article, you are also feeling the weight of fighting a battle on two fronts. On one front, we want to reach those—like the people I meet at these rallies—who need to hear about Jesus detached from MAGA Christianity. We want them to know Jesus. On another front, we want those who have conflated Jesus with a brand of conservative politics to detangle their faith. We also want them to know Jesus. I long for them to one day hear Jesus say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant,” and not, “Depart from me, I never knew you.” Again, I do not know for sure who is who. Only the Lord knows those who have experienced genuine conversion. But what I do know is that MAGA Christianity is clouding clarity about who Jesus is.
Ultimately, let our allegiance and submission to Christ be so clear that no one can mistake our faith for a political movement.
Father, give us grace, wisdom, and courage to make clear the message of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection to those in need of His redemption. And guide us through the fog of these current days that we might present Christ clearly and holistically to all in need of His saving grace.
(October 12, 2025)
On the Occasion of Being Granted “Honorably Retired” Status as a Presbyterian Minister
This past week I requested and was granted “Honorably Retired” Status as a Presbyterian Minister [for the policy wonks among us, cf. ECO Constitution Chapter 2.0401(g)], in large part to free up more bandwidth for our ministry with House of Mercy. I don’t know how much this distinction means to others, but after more than 31 years as an ordained minister of the Gospel it means a great deal to me.
One of the lectionary readings in church this morning was this section from Psalm 66:
8 Bless our God, O peoples,
let the sound of his praise be heard,
9 who has kept us among the living,
and has not let our feet slip.
10 For thou, O God, hast tested us;
thou hast tried us as silver is tried.
11 Thou didst bring us into the net;
thou didst lay affliction on our loins;
12 thou didst let men ride over our heads;
we went through fire and through water;
yet thou hast brought us forth to a spacious place.
I am very conscious of the fact — after more than 31 years of passing through both fire and water in the ministry — that it is the Lord in His kindness and faithfulness who “has not let my feet slip;” that it is the Lord Jesus who has “yet brought me forth to a spacious place” — the spacious place of honorable retirement. In light of that, I thought that today might be an especially appropriate time to post a chapter that the seminary associated with my denomination asked me to write several months ago. I hope you will find this encouraging.
FLOURISH INSTITUTE OF THEOLOGY BOOK OF LETTERS: Wisdom and advice for seminarians, in the spirit of Paul’s letters to Timothy
I have served as a Presbyterian pastor for over thirty years. I have not been a Presbyterian pastor, I have served as one. More on that distinction later.
My wife and I had lunch a few weeks ago with a close friend, a young man about to begin his service as the pastor of a historic Presbyterian congregation. I have the privilege of serving as one of his official mentors for ministry. Knowing many of the details of my life in the church, he asked me, “All of those attacks you have endured as a pastor . . . why didn’t you just quit? How have you stuck in there?” This essay -- really more a collection of vignettes than an essay -- is an attempt to answer that question, an attempt to encourage him and you, wherever and whenever you may be reading this.
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The first thing I want to say is thank you. Thank you for receiving the breathed-out Holy Spirit from Jesus and answering his call to serve him as an ambassador of reconciliation and grace in this “present evil age,” where principalities and powers are everywhere victorious. Faithful ministers of the gospel are as needed now as they ever have been and ever will be. May God bless you with every blessing in Christ, both now and for the whole of your life.
I graduated more than forty years ago, with 660 fascinating classmates from an outstanding public high school in suburban Washington, D.C. While just a small handful of us went on to serve in the military (as I did), there was another form of service that only one of us took on: Becoming a member of the clergy. One of my classmates and friends, a Hollywood screenwriter and director, calls me every so often, “Hutch, since you’re the only religious person I know I’m wondering if you can help me. I’m working on a script that has a religious character; can you tell me if this dialogue is realistic?”
Religious faith is a strange thing, especially to those viewing it from the outside. Serving as a member of the clergy -- and, more specifically, as a minister of the good news of Jesus Christ, is an exceedingly strange thing. And that is the point. The moment it becomes “normal” or “safe” is the moment it loses all meaning and value.
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Here is my first piece of advice. Do not lose yourself. A calling to the ministry is just that, a calling, not an identity. Do not get lost in your calling. The precise reason you were called -- you, and not someone else -- is because God made you, you. Frederick Buechner’s words are delightful, “The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you.”
Many times I almost lost myself inside my calling, intentionally or unintentionally cutting myself off from anyone who did not know me first and foremost as “pastor”; intentionally or unintentionally allowing “pastor” to become who I was, losing my connection to nearly everything throughout my life that the Holy Spirit had used to make me, me. Some pastors -- forgetting the delight God takes in them as his own daughters and sons -- have such an anemic sense of self that they can only conceive of themselves through the eyes of those who view them as “pastor”. I think that is who I may have been at my 20th High School Reunion. But, by God’s grace, it is not who I was by my 40th.
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I drove back to my hometown for my 20th High School Reunion as the Senior Pastor of one of my denomination’s largest churches. I had served at three different churches by then, with my title and salary expanding each time. I received inquiries from bigger churches every so often, with one even calling me (humblebrag alert) “one of the most gifted pastors of your generation.” Fast forward to my 40th reunion, this time arriving in the early stages of planting a small house church which meets in our living room. By now nearly sixty years old, almost no one at the reunion needed to impress or be impressed. We simply enjoyed being with each other, each having survived and endured and created so much in the intervening years. And never before had I found more delight in answering my friends’ questions about what I did, about what it meant to serve as a pastor. Do not lose yourself, because to lose yourself is to lose all possibility of joy in your calling.
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My second piece of advice. More than advice, really, given that this comes straight from Scripture: Let your gentleness be evident to all. Without gentleness, without love, your ministry is worthless. You know this. Even if you speak in the tongues of angels, even if you can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and even if you give all you possess to the poor; without gentleness, without love, your ministry is worthless.
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So, here is some of what happened between my 20th and 40th reunions; some of the stories that prompted the question from the young pastor I am mentoring, “Why didn’t you quit? How have you stuck in there?”
What does one do when one discovers that a sister congregation is being taken over by white supremacists from the Aryan Nation? What does one do when their three-year effort to right those wrongs leads to the thirteen elders of their own church calling them to a secret late-night meeting where one is told, “Your efforts against racism are peripheral to the gospel. The only reason we went along with you for the past three years was because you bullied us into it. You are young and idealistic; just wait until your daughter brings home a black man she wants to marry. If you don’t resign voluntarily we have ways of making you resign.”
What does one do when one moves their family to serve a church in Connecticut (surely no white supremacists or misogynists there) only to find that a number of the members believe that the subsequent reelection of Barack Obama meant that faithful Christians should (direct quote alert) “take up arms to overthrow the civil government”? What does one do when one further discovers that the leaders of their church angrily object to sermons teaching that male and female have equal and infinite worth before God?
What does one do when one is recruited to join the staff at a different city and church in Connecticut, and on their first Sunday finds themselves trapped in the sanctuary after the service, standing beside their new Senior Pastor as he screams in anger at a woman who had simply approached him to ask a question? What does one do when one gradually discovers that “how the sausage is made” at their new church includes decades of manipulation, untruths, deception, illegal theft, hostile threats, spiritual abuse, and malignant narcissism?
What does one do when God graciously thaws them from their years of indifference to a beautiful and important theme in Scripture -- that the Lord calls and empowers his daughters to service and leadership in the Church just as fully as he does his sons -- and one is set free to follow their conscience? What does one do when they answer the new call of God and are then threatened with excommunication for changing their views? And what does one do when they receive hostile communications and certified letters from the denomination they have served faithfully for decades, demanding that they stand trial, even after they have been received into their new denominational home and begun their new ministry adventure?
What does one do when their sponsoring church changes Senior Pastors and ministry philosophies, and then vows to end all support for one’s calling to plant a house church, because of one’s refusal to join the new pastor’s angry and self-righteous culture war against perceived “unbelievers?” What does one do when they are angrily accused of being “a wolf in sheep’s clothing?”
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Here is what one does. At least, here is some of what I did, the sorts of practices that my best pastors and mentors taught and modeled for me -- the sorts of practices that help a minister of the gospel to stand firm, to let nothing move them, to always give themself fully to the work of the Lord, because they know that their labor in the Lord is not in vain (1 Cor. 15).
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An old joke: Two friends meet up after having not seen each other for many years and the first says, “My friend, how you have changed! Your face used to be etched with worry and your shoulders sloped, but now you are smiling, standing up straight with your head lifted and your face bright as the sun! What has happened?” The second friend answers, “It is the most wonderful thing! I have found someone who does all my worrying for me! He charges me ten million dollars a day, and he does all my worrying for me!” “That is wonderful indeed,” the first friend says, “but where in the world do you find the money to pay him?” The second friend replies, “Well, that’s HIS worry!”
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“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest,” the Good Shepherd speaks to your heart in the midst of ministry. “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Faith believes and rests in these words from the Good Shepherd.
And so, better than the silly joke is this: “This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how.” Jesus really does give us all we need to keep us gentle and loving through all the attacks and trials of ministry.
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Which leads to a third piece of advice: Guard your faith, which is more valuable than gold. Remember that faith is simply resting in the Good Shepherd’s love for you -- and for your congregation, and for the whole world. As our Confession puts it, “The principal acts of saving faith are accepting, receiving, and resting upon Christ alone for justification, sanctification, and eternal life, by virtue of the covenant of grace.”
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Jude concludes his letter by saying the same thing: Above all, keep yourself in the love of God.
Put the oxygen mask on your own face first. Rejoice; again I say, rejoice! We know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. You have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer you who live, but Christ who lives in you; and the life you now live in the flesh, you live by faith in the Son of God, who loved you and gave himself for you. He leaps the mountains and bounds the hills to greet you. The joy of the Lord is your strength. Is he, or is he not, the Pearl of Great Price? Have you, or have you not, sold all to acquire him and hold on to him? Keep yourself in the love of God, dear sister or brother. This is how one perseveres in joy.
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Nicolaus Zinzendorf had it right about our calling: “Preach the Gospel, die, and be forgotten.”
Eugene Peterson agrees: “At best, we plant seeds. And die. And wait for resurrection.”
Remember that there was no hidden “fine print” whereby he tricked you into the ministry; it has been right there in his breathed-out Word all along: “To this very hour we go hungry and thirsty, we are in rags, we are brutally treated, we are homeless. We work hard with our own hands. When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it; when we are slandered, we answer kindly. We have become the scum of the earth, the garbage of the world—right up to this moment.”
You are well aware of this, and in response to the call you have received, your heart is humbly and bravely saying, “Here am I; send me.”
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Meanwhile, as Dostoyevsky wrote, “Beauty will save the world.”
Beauty will also save your calling as a pastor. Many times all it takes to begin the reset and recalibration of our hearts is a walk in the woods or around the block, drinking coffee by oneself or with a partner or friend, reading a poem or an essay or an article or a story, listening to music and lyrics or just music, watching a ballet or a ballgame or a story on a screen, gazing at a painting or a sculpture or a baseball card or a Pinterest board or almost any single thing that God has made in nature, eating a simple meal or having one’s thirst quenched, stretching and exercising and breathing in and out deeply and slowly. Our pets. Fish and birds and animals and insects and worms. Gardening and yard work is a gift. A comfortable chair, a clean sheet of paper, a working pen, a cushioned pair of shoes. A knit hat. A rum cake. Sleep is a gift. Give thanks for sleep whenever God grants it, and give thanks for each new day of ministry, each new day of hearing Jesus say to you, “Come, follow Me.”
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“God, designing Eden, puts in trees. The first thing the verse tells us is that they’re ‘pleasant to the sight.’ Only after that are we told that they provide good things to eat. Robinson notes that God gave us the gift of enjoyment—which was ‘nothing less than a sharing of His mind with us.’”
~ From Judith Shulevitz’s review of Marilynne Robinson’s, Reading Genesis
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Walker Percy wrote about waking up to a new day, “One discovers, one is not dead! One is alive! One is free! One feels, What the hell, here I am washed up, it is true, but also cast up, cast up on the beach, alive and in one piece. The possibilities open to one are infinite. Why not get up and begin exploring?”
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“So many gifts. What do they mean?”
~ Mary Oliver
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“His mercies are new every morning. What do they mean?”
~ J. D. Hutchinson
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The formula is not rocket science: He must increase and you must decrease.
What good news this is! It is not by chance that the proverb, “God gives grace to the humble, but opposes the proud” is repeated over and over by the gospel writers, by Paul, by Peter, by James. It is possibly the most often quoted Old Testament verse in the New Testament. What good news for the one called to the ministry of the gospel!
Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies, it can bear no fruit. In order to save your life, you must lose it. You know this!
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You also know this, that compared to the surpassing worth of knowing Christ, everything else that you might want to boast in should be considered garbage. You know that gaining Christ, and being found in him, is worth far more than every other good, true, and beautiful thing put together. The calling to the ministry is a calling to be in that place where one experiences both the power of Christ’s resurrection and a participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death. These experiences make us even more fit for the Life of the World to Come. They are worth more than anything else this present age can offer.
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Finally, another old joke:
Once upon a time there was a famous U.S. Navy Captain who had led ships into battle, through canals, across oceans, into and out of ports all around the world. He was admired by his crew and fellow senior officers, even though he had one eccentric habit. Every morning he would retreat to his cabin and open the safe and take out the same small piece of paper and read it, and then place it back into the safe. This habit became well known, and so of course the crew was curious. One day his Executive Officer finally got up the courage simply to ask him, “Captain, what is that piece of paper? Is it orders from the Admiral? A top secret Battle Plan? A love letter from home? What is it? What does it say?” So the Captain showed it to him. It read, "Left is Port, Right is Starboard.”
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What is your “Left is Port, Right is Starboard”? What are the simple truths that you know you must never forget, that will keep you on course through all the storms of ministry and of life? You have been called to humble yourself as a pastor, as a servant of the good news of Jesus Christ, but that is not who you are. After all, if Jeremiah 31:33-34 is to be believed, there won’t be any pastors in the Life of the World to Come, so who will you be then if your calling in this present age is the sum total of who you are?
Your present calling will come with great difficulties and great delights, joyful successes and paralyzing losses, both deaths and resurrections, but who you are is not tied up in any of that. Who you are is your port and starboard. And this is who you are: A beloved child of God, shining like a star in the sky in the midst of a world that is in great need of you. The party cannot be complete without you.
God bless you, my fellow shepherd and fellow servant of Christ Jesus, the Good Shepherd of the sheep.
~ Jeff Hutchinson, House of Mercy, New Haven, Connecticut