Is Donald Trump a Christian?
Words about forgiveness and enemies matter
Is Donald Trump a Christian?
He is undoubtedly a friend to Christians. And, as we saw at Charlie Kirk’s funeral service, he is surrounded by men and women who have an active Christian faith in God. But is he a Christian?
I don’t ask because I like drawing lines around who’s in or out. That belongs to God alone. I ask because of what I heard at Charlie Kirk’s Celebration of Life in Phoenix. Trump was the last speaker in a long line of people who gave strong, faith-filled testimonies to God and to Charlie. We heard from Roman Catholics, evangelicals, and even some non-Christians.
Trump has long been a “friend of the family,” the Christian family. He has acted to protect life and, most notably, the unborn lives of millions.
But at the Kirk service, he said this:
“(Charlie) did not hate his opponents. He wanted the best for them. That’s where I disagreed with Charlie. I hate my opponent and I don’t want the best for them. I’m sorry, I am sorry, Erika. But now Erika can talk to me and the whole group and maybe they can convince me that that’s not right, but I can’t stand my opponent.”1
I can’t get that out of my head.
Jesus says, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matt 5:44) Those aren’t suggestions. That is central. So when a man says he hates his enemies—and says it at a funeral—it jars the heart. It raises fundamental questions.
I’m not alone in wondering.
One reader of The Anglican wrote me this:
“Why would Trump say such a horrific thing about not forgiving his opponents, when one of his own officials had just publicly forgiven her husband’s killer? How do we pray for this President? Am I a fool for supporting him?”
A Reagan? A Churchill?
A Google search won’t answer the question. Trump says he’s a Christian. Raised Presbyterian, later calling himself non-denominational. He knows how to use the language of faith and understands what the Bible means to millions of Christians. Some say he uses those things as political props more than as personal convictions.
Supporters hail him as a defender of religious liberty. Some go further, almost to the point of messianic devotion. Critics see something else: a man with only a thin grasp of Scripture and a life often at odds with what the Bible teaches.
Reagan comes to mind. He was beloved by Christians. He quoted Scripture. He surrounded himself with believers. And yet, many wondered if he truly shared their faith, or if he was simply a faithful ally.
And then there was Winston Churchill. He was even clearer. He admitted he wasn’t a Christian, but he believed the Church was essential to civilization. “I could hardly be called a pillar of the Church,” he said. “I am more in the nature of a buttress, for I support it from the outside.”
Trump may be in that same category.
A friend of Christians.
A protector of their causes.
A bulwark, not a pillar.
Whether he actually belongs inside the household of faith—that’s another matter.
So let’s put it plainly: Trump may be a friend of Christians. But is he a follower of Christ?
Not Something You’re Born Into
To be clear. Christianity isn’t a cultural label or a political party. And you’re not born into it. Jews give birth to Jewish babies. Muslims give birth to Muslim babies. But Christians don’t give birth to Christian babies.
We’re all born creatures of God, yes. But no one is born a Christian. That only happens when the heart is opened by grace and a person comes to trust in Christ. Sometimes that’s early—through baptism and teaching at home. Sometimes it’s late.
But it has to happen. It is like a new birth.
You can wear a cross, pray in public, attend church, even sit in the Oval Office and nod to Christian causes—and still not have a heart that belongs to Christ.
Christianity begins when a person prays to God. Privately or publicly, no one becomes a Christian except by prayer. Christianity is a shift in thinking. It is trusting in the words and works of Jesus Christ.
There’s no single litmus test. Faith is of the heart. Still, Jesus Himself gives us certain marks—chief among them prayer, and love for enemies.
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A Shallow Gospel
Trump has said things over the years that, at best, reveal a superficial understanding of what the gospel is.
In one interview:
“If I’m good, I’m going to Heaven. And if I’m bad, I’m going someplace else, like over there, right? … Religion, you know, it gives you some hope. Gee, if I’m good, I’m going to Heaven.”2
That isn’t Christianity. That’s moralism. The Bible never says, “If you’re good, you get in.” Paul says flat out, “By grace you have been saved through faith. It is the gift of God, not your doing.” (Eph 2:8)
In another moment, he said:
“If I can save 7,000 people a week from being killed … I want to try to get to heaven if possible. I’m hearing that I’m not doing well. I am really at the bottom of the totem pole. But if I can get to heaven, this will be one of the reasons.”3
That’s works-based thinking again. Do enough good, maybe Heaven will open its doors.
And once he remarked:
“I will be asking for forgiveness, but hopefully I won’t have to be asking for much forgiveness.”4
Which sounds like someone who doesn’t yet grasp how deep sin runs in all of us.
Apollos and Blind Spots
The Bible provides us with a picture of this kind of person—someone who “gets it”, but doesn’t get all of it.
Apollos. Brilliant preacher. Knew his Scriptures. Persuasive. Yet Acts says he only knew the baptism of John, not the fullness of the Holy Spirit. He was incomplete.
So Priscilla and Aquila, Paul’s friends, a married couple and emblems of all that is good and right in churches, pulled him aside and taught him more accurately. Paul filled in the gaps in Ephesus, and revival broke out. The people of the church went to their homes and retrieved their souvenirs, idols, trinkets, and amulets from their former faith, which they still trusted, and brought them into the city to destroy. (The story if told in Acts 19.)
The Ephesians were hedging their bets. Maybe Christ would save them. Or maybe their charms and religious incantations from another faith would. They held on to both until they heard about the Holy Spirit of God from Paul.
Were the Ephesians Christians before they heard and received the Holy Spirit? Apollos was unaware of the Holy Spirit—was he a Christian?
I’d say yes. But incomplete. Blind spots. Needing help.
Trump may be in that category. Not a Christian. Not un-Christian. But not fully aware of the totality of the faith.
Again, we might ask, what is a Christian?
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Lewis on Words
C. S. Lewis warned about the word Christian in the preface to Mere Christianity. He said it was getting slippery. To make the point, he used the word gentleman.
Once upon a time, that word meant something very specific. You had land, a coat of arms, a place in society. You could be a liar, even a cheat, and still be called a gentleman.
But then the word got watered down. People started using it as a compliment. “What a lovely gentleman,” they’d say, just meaning polite or kind. The old meaning vanished.
Lewis said the same thing was happening to Christian. It was turning into a word of praise—or in our day, sometimes a word of derision—instead of a word of fact.
And here’s the point. A Christian isn’t simply someone who acts nicely. Or votes a certain way. Or shows up to support Christian causes. A Christian is a disciple of Jesus Christ. Someone who trusts Him, crucified and risen. That is the fact on the ground.
Of course, one can be a Christian and still be a sinner. We all qualify. One can even be a bad Christian, as Lewis admitted—someone who believes the faith but struggles to live it. That would be every one of us, if we’re telling the truth.
What About Trump?
So is Donald Trump a Christian?
Maybe. Perhaps he has prayed in private and entrusted himself to Christ. If so, then yes—he is a Christian in the factual sense.
But he may not know that he has an obligation to think about his enemies differently. And that makes it ever more challenging to be the commander-in-chief of the most lethal fighting force on the planet.
I hope he is a Christian! I truly do. The weight of his office is enormous, and I would want for him all the resources of the Christian faith—every gift, every fruit, every ounce of support from brothers and sisters of the faith.
However, his public words reveal that he has serious blind spots.
He doesn’t understand grace.
He refuses to forgive enemies.
He still thinks in terms of good people getting in and bad people staying out.
That doesn’t make him hopeless. It makes him a man who, like Apollos, needs someone close by to teach him the way of God more accurately. He needs Priscilla and Aquila. He needs discipleship. He needs friends and advisors.
We should hope and pray that some Aquilla or Priscilla is raised up to lovingly and clearly show the president a more excellent way. And given what we saw of the Christian faith from the speakers at Kirk’s funeral, God has plenty of people to choose from.
A Pastoral Word
I love my country. I pray for the president. But I long for him to learn the same lesson every Christian must: heaven is not earned by doing good. It’s given by grace. And at the center of following Jesus is prayer. Prayer for friends. Prayer for enemies.
This isn’t about condemning him. It’s about holding up the gospel for what it is, and praying that even our leaders—maybe especially our leaders—would find its power.
Because in the end, Christianity is not a slogan, not a political identity, not a badge. It is the heart, opened to Jesus Christ, who calls us not to hate, but to love.
Grace and peace,
David Roseberry ☩
The Anglican
The Anglican is the Substack newsletter for LeaderWorks, where I share insights, encouragement, and practical tools for clergy and lay Christians. I’m also an author of over a dozen books available on Amazon.
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https://www.the-independent.com/news/world/americas/us-politics/trump-charlie-kirk-memorial-opponent-b2830917.html?utm_source=chatgpt.com
https://www.christianpost.com/voices/do-you-share-donald-trumps-opinion-about-heaven.html?utm_source=chatgpt.com
https://people.com/trump-says-he-wants-to-get-to-heaven-if-possible-11793929?utm_source=chatgpt.com
https://time.com/4361777/donald-trump-cal-thomas-forgiveness/?utm_source=chatgpt.com
Thank you for bringing home the point that we should pray for Donald’s understanding of the gospel. It didn’t bother me when he said he can’t forgive his enemies. I felt he was speaking honestly. I’ve been there myself many times. Once, I was so consumed with anger over a wrong done to me that I had to cry out to God to give me the ability to forgive—much like Corrie Ten Boom when she met the German guard who abused her and her sister. God met me in my hour of need. I’m having real trouble right now forgiving all the hateful people, some of whom are probably going to light into you here for something you wrote in this post that didn’t sit right with them. Whether or not our president’s heart is truly converted right now, he is surrounded by believers. He is a defender of believers. Hopefully, these believers (including myself) will remember to pray for his understanding as we pray for his protection and wisdom to lead this country.
Thank you David for this commentary that sheds so much good light on this topic. So very helpful. We are all I guess going through our own sanctification processes on a daily basis — it’s been exciting to watch Trump’s journey tho the service for Kirk was a true floodlight on one of his blind spots. I love the reference to Corrie Ten Boom’s forgiveness of the concentration camp guard — to me that is the ultimate goal and one we cannot do ourselves but are completely dependent on the Holy Spirit and His power within us to accomplish. But let’s pray that Trump’s reference to “having to talk with Erika more” is indeed a “Priscilla & Aquila moment (or moments) to come. Thank you again David — deeply clarifying. I think also as it occurs to me…an important distinction between idolizing a politician vs our God & Savior, Jesus Christ.