Wyatt Deihl: Trump’s Economy of Despair and the God It Serves
By Wyatt Deihl
That bead of sweat on your forehead as you ring up your groceries, double-check your receipt, stare dumbfounded at your power bill, and wince at the gas pump. The mounting cost of living likely has you thinking, Dear God!
You’re not alone, and unfortunately, this is just the beginning.
The American people are suffering under a carefully crafted Trump economy that solely benefits the ultra-wealthy. Costs are ever-increasing, wages are stagnant, jobs are few, and stability is a relic of the past. If Trump’s spending bill is passed without significant concessions, health insurance premiums will be the next major squeeze, with costs expected to more than double should the ACA tax credits expire.
While Trump’s political cronies pull the levers to make you sicker and poorer, they are also leading us down a much darker, more sinister path – one built on manufactured overwhelm and desperation in service of a much larger political agenda.
When all hope feels lost, people grasp for meaning, seek belonging, and yearn for salvation.
And that’s where right-wing Christianity steps in.
Severe economic strain and reactionary faith converge in a strategic manner that works to the benefit of government control, tearing down the already paper-thin wall separating church and state. These congregations are subsequently mobilized to wage self-righteous policy battles that are not their own.
This is not a novel trend. Hardship has always been spiritualized. It helps those who feel powerless find meaning in their often-preventable suffering, while deflecting blame. The religious right has branded their hunger for control as divine, and your suffering as God’s plan.
The recent steep rise in evangelism amid economic downturn is cause for particular concern. From 1998 to 2020, white evangelicals have become increasingly more conservative. Only 19% of white evangelicals identified as Democrats in 2020.
I was raised in the church, and while the teachings leaned conservative, they were never so overtly political. I was taught that nonbelievers were to be called in, not cast out. I was taught to love unconditionally, to be the hand reaching down to pull others up, not the foot kicking them off the ladder.
These are teachings I carry with me despite leaving the church, because my God is not an institution, and my theology is certainly not one rooted in contempt for my neighbor.
This new wave of evangelical Christianity has little in common with the teachings of Christ. The Jesus I know healed the sick without charge, welcomed the immigrant, broke bread with sinners, and reminds us in Matthew 19:24, that “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.”
This verse seems particularly timely as Trump recently boasted to the press, “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to make heaven.” In spite of that, his evangelical base continues to rally behind him and the leaders of this movement tell you that your pain is to be blamed on immigrants, queer people, and your secular neighbors.
Conservative politicians and preachers alike shroud their evil through the extreme perversion of scripture, while championing policies that strip families of health care, cut food assistance, and criminalize poverty. They praise “family values” while deporting parents and starving schools. They condemn abortion while opposing childcare, education, and paid leave. This is not faith. It is political theater.
The despair many Americans feel is real, but the only solution offered by the right is a distorted promise of salvation as they pick your pocket.
Be not swayed by wolves in sheep’s clothing, nor by false prophets staging a two-bit rendition of a political drama we have all seen before. Trump’s economy has cultivated a culture of desperation, and the god it serves is anything but divine. The question now is whether we will continue to worship at its altar.
Wyatt Deihl is a Yale-trained social and behavioral scientist with roots in the Pentecostal and Southern Baptist churches, he writes about politics, and culture through the lens of accountability and inclusion.
