Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation

Jesus and John Wayne might be the most important book I have read about the changes we see in our nation and churches. Despite its exceptional scholarship, the book is straightforward and captivating from the first chapter. As I read it, I became increasingly ashamed and embarrassed. It felt like learning a dark secret about one’s parents, whom they always considered excellent role models.

I See Myself

For my entire life, I have identified as an evangelical. I cast my first general election ballot for Richard Nixon. Donald Trump and those who have compromised themselves to provide him cover have necessitated a change in my political and religious identity. Although I am a proud veteran, I no longer fly an American flag at my home and now self-identify as a Jesus follower rather than an evangelical. I no longer feel comfortable with patriotic displays or how evangelicals are perceived. This book confirmed those decisions are justified.

Racism

On the one hand, I am thankful that I do not remember ever consciously experiencing most of the things the author described in the churches I attended. Yet, it is like buying a new car. You may have yet to see many similar models on the road before the purchase, but afterward, they are everywhere. I grew up in Southern Baptist churches in the Rocky Mountain West oilfield towns, with few racial minorities. Those I encountered were Chinese or Mexican Americans. And they were our neighbors and friends.

When the author convincingly connected racism and sexism to evangelicalism, I was surprised and not quite ready to accept her assertion. Then, it started bringing back memories. The first time I experienced overt bigotry was after I had taken a black friend with me to a church service in South Carolina. When I returned for the evening service, the pastor suggested that my friend might be better served elsewhere. The message was clear. Racism and sexism have been more visible in the past few years, especially in the treatment of Beth Moore and Russell Moore and the fact some African American pastors have left the Southern Baptist Convention over those very things.

According to Du Mez, “Today some historians place race at the very heart of evangelical politics, pointing to the fact that evangelical opposition to government-mandated integration predated anti-abortion activism by several years.” (p. 38)  Evangelicals had mastered pivoting to keep the fear level high before the coronavirus pandemic. Abortion, as the primary issue, arose after the Berlin Wall came down.

Militarism

I was also blissfully unaware of how completely militarism had permeated evangelicalism.  Jesus and John Wayne traced it back to the 1940s. One of my teen years’ highlights was attending a Billy Graham crusade. Like most evangelical kids, Billy Graham was one of my heroes of the faith. When I read these words, my heart broke. “In 1969, Graham sent a thirteen-page letter to President Nixon—a letter only declassified twenty years later—offering an array of policy scenarios, some of which clearly abandoned Christian just-war theory and the Geneva Conventions.” (p. 50) The author asserts Graham came to regret his foray into partisan politics. “It was a lesson that most other evangelicals refused to abide.” (p. 47)

The author cited Anne C. Loveland, American Evangelicals and the US Military 1942-1993,who argued, “To Baptist pastor Jerry Falwell, the US soldier in Vietnam remained “a living testimony” to Christianity, and to “old fashioned patriotism.” A defender of “Americanism,” the American soldier was “a champion for Christ.” (p. 49) Falwell’s Liberty University still boasts that it “trains champions for Christ,” an assertion supported by the number of military chaplains it graduates.

I proudly served my country when called, and, like a soldier quoted in Jesus and John Wayne, I remember joking that I was going to “kill a commie for Christ” and suggesting, “We should nuke them all and let God sort them out.” Little did I realize I was carrying on another evangelical family tradition.

“The Vietnam War was pivotal to the formation of an emerging evangelical identity.” (P. 50) That identity was militarism. Militarism and racism merged with a redefined Christian masculinity and paternalism—a process that would lay the groundwork for the election of Donald Trump.

A New Direction

With the end of the Cold War and the threat of worldwide communist domination eliminated, “Bush ushered in what (Ralph) Reed termed ‘the most conservative and the most pro-family platform in the history of the party.’ It called for a ban on abortion, opposed LGBT rights, and defended school prayer and homeschool rights.” (p. 139)

Looking at the shape-shifting GOP and the news sources it has coopted, there seems to be a move toward embracing Putin. Supporting the former member of the KGB, is a means of opposing the current President. (The enemy of our enemy, I guess.) That was quite evident this month when Tucker Carlson interviewed Putin just before Alexei Navalny died under suspicious circumstances. Carlson observed, “Every leader kills people, some kill more than others. Leadership requires killing people, sorry, that’s why I wouldn’t want to be a leader.”

The author reviewed three other areas impacting evangelical thought and willingness to embrace a man like Donald Trump. They were homeschooling, paternalism, and Christian masculinity. The first two have contributed to the victimization and subordination of women. And the third has created an inaccurate caricature of Jesus–warrior Jesus. I’ll let you discover her handling of those topics on your own.

I highly recommend this insightful and scholarly work.