Far-right views a struggle for faith leaders after Jan. 6 riot investigation
When a throng of pro-Donald Trump rioters descended on the U.S. Capitol in an attempt to halt his electoral defeat, some wore tactical gear or gas masks, while others used bear spray, swung flag poles or wielded Tasers as they battled with police.
Others came with Bibles. At least one demonstrator brought a large wooden cross, while others toted campaign-style signs for “Jesus 2020” and other messages purporting that their cause was sanctified by God. Some reportedly described their struggle as akin to the opening salvo of a holy war.
Among those arrested for roles in the riot were the leaders of two small Central Florida churches, one of whom has since launched a YouTube channel, dubbing himself the “Patriot Pastor.”
The conflation of pro-Trump and Christian rhetoric reflects a resurgent trend that has prompted concern from faith leaders in Central Florida and nationwide. Known as Christian nationalism, the philosophy’s adherents posit that God has blessed America above all other nations — which means an attack on America is equivalent to an attack on God.
During a panel discussion weeks after the riot, three white Orlando-area pastors answered yes without hesitation when asked if they had Christian nationalists in their churches. They later likened Christian nationalists and white nationalists to “fraternal twins,” while moderator Jeremy Levitt of FAMU argued there was little difference between those and white supremacists.
David Swanson, one of the panelists and the pastor of First Presbyterian Church in downtown Orlando, describes Christian nationalism as “idolatrous.”
“Our biblical theology has been co-opted by... those who are championing the idea that any conservative Christian is actually a Christian nationalist and that we are putting America in a position that is higher than the Kingdom of God,” he said. “That is not at all biblical theology. That is not what a conservative Christian would believe.”
Allowed to fester, Swanson and other pastors fear that Christian nationalist views can lead adherents to embrace extremist ideology, commit acts of violence or even revolt against the government. He and other local church leaders have tried varied approaches to reining in those views since the Capitol riot, with little success.
The pastors’ fears are validated by history. Exploiting Christianity to justify violence has long been the practice of extremist groups, including the Ku Klux Klan, which manipulated Christian teachings in a way Klan leaders claimed could prove white superiority.
In the 1960s, even evangelicals who expressed support for the cause of Civil Rights undermined it by embracing the “politics of church supremacy,” according to Jesse Curtis, religious historian and author of the upcoming book “The Myth of Colorblind Christians: Evangelicals and White Supremacy in the Civil Rights Era.”
They thought of racism as a “problem of the heart” and argued the church, not Congress, was the place to solve that problem.
“So white evangelicals begin to say, the solution is in the church, the solution is in the gospel but applying the gospel is actually going to lead one to be less race-conscious and less talkative about race, because if you’re a mature Christian you’re going to realize that race doesn’t matter when we’re all united in Christ,” Curtis said.
More recently, the far-right nationalist Proud Boys have been seen multiple times praying together moments before participating in violent rallies. And on Jan. 6, many of those who traveled to Washington D.C. displayed Christian symbols as they stormed the Capitol.
Nationally and locally, white pastors who lead predominately white evangelical churches but want to discuss social justice issues from their pulpits are now left to figure out how to slow the spread of nationalist views without alienating their congregations.
“The confluence of events between George Floyd’s death, COVID and the political election have put extraordinary pressures on pastors across the board,” Swanson said. “You’re either doing too much, or you’re not doing enough. You’re either too woke, or you’re too Trumpian. And no matter what you say — and they definitely want you to say something — your people are always going to be bothered.”
Either way, religious historians say pastors who try to fight off extremist views often face insurmountable resistance. Even those who try to expose their parishioners to unfamiliar perspectives may find their jobs in jeopardy.
“Pastors have this idea that they are religious leaders, and they are shepherds of their flock, and that they can guide them into a different direction,” said Kristin Du Mez, a history professor at Calvin University, a Christian college in Michigan. “That rarely works.”
Instead, she said, pastors who push back against budding extremism are more likely to lose their posts or watch their church membership dwindle.
Still, white pastors in particular have a responsibility to try, even at the risk of their jobs, said Levitt, the professor in Florida A&M University’s College of Law and founder of a human rights think tank, the Stono Institute for Democracy, Justice and Security, which hosted the Feb. 25 panel titled “Christian Nationalism and Domestic Terrorism: Fighting to redefine patriotism and the church in the 21st century.”
“There has never been a separation between violent white extremism and Christianity as practiced in this country,” Levitt said, noting that Christian slave owners used the Bible to justify the brutality of slavery. “... Every Christian has the responsibility to fight social evil. The Black church has been fighting so long. It’s time for the white church to help fight the evil that they helped create.”
Christian extremism at the Capitol
As hundreds of those accused of participating in the Capitol riot were identified, photos and video from the day showed the religious leanings of the crowd.
Some brought along Bibles. Jacob Chansley, the fur-hat-wearing rioter and conspiracy theorist often called the “Qanon shaman,” led a Christian prayer from the Senate dais. Outside, many held signs with Christian sentiments, such as “Jesus saves” and “Jesus 2020.”
Hours after the riot, Leo Kelley, of Iowa, told LifeSiteNews that the attempted insurrection was “an appeal to heaven” adding that he was there for the Senate prayer and the rioter who led it “consecrated it to Jesus.”
In Central Florida, several of those facing charges were leaders at area churches. Pastor James “Jim” Cusick Jr., his son Casey Cusick, a minister, and David Lesperance were all members of Global Outreach Church of Melbourne. They are charged with entering restricted grounds, disorderly conduct and violent entry of the Capitol building.
Kevin Tuck, who was fired from his job as a Windemere police officer after his arrest on similar charges, still serves as senior pastor of The Lighthouse Church in Apopka. He has since created a YouTube channel where he refers to himself as the “Patriot Pastor” and espouses beliefs that mirror Christian nationalism.
In videos, Tuck repeats the lie that the 2020 election was stolen, talks about a coming “war,” spouts homophobic and anti-Black rhetoric and references the Bible in attempts to prove that his views have a basis in Christianity.
Tuck did not agree to an interview but a representative from his church responded to a request from the
Orlando Sentinel in an unsigned email refusing to participate in what they thought would be a “hit piece.”
“The church supports our Pastor,” the unnamed church representative wrote. “We have no interest in speaking to the media.”
Swanson said after the riot, several members of First Presbyterian Church said they were “deeply disturbed” by what happened. So far, he said no members of his church have been
accused of participating in the storming of the Capitol but said if it is later revealed that someone did, he would be “bothered” but would not shun that person.
“I would go to that person, I would talk to them about what happened,” Swanson said. “And I would try to share with them my support, my love and my care for them as I would any sinful human being. I would try to lead them back towards reconciliation and restoration.”
‘Transformation of heart takes time’
Across the denomination, Presbyterian churches are overwhelmingly white and Swanson’s is no different. He said despite his downtown location, his congregation is more than 96% white.
Still, he said he has long sought to be influenced by multicultural perspectives and would occasionally invite pastors from predominately Black
churches to preach guest sermons. He said he prioritized diversity of perspectives after the 2016 presidential election stressed the nation’s racial fault lines.
The February panel discussion on Christian nationalism was the latest example of how race, religion and politics have become increasingly relevant to his pastoral role as his church members look for guidance in forming their beliefs on social justice issues.
After George Floyd’s death, he participated in a massive prayer walk to mourn the horrific slaying. He was the only white pastor to speak at the event organized by a group of Black clergy.
Later, he interviewed two Black pastors and two Black business leaders in a series he called “We Stand Together.” In the video interviews, he asked the men to talk about how they grew up, their experiences with discrimination, their interactions with police and whether they had ever been racially profiled.
Swanson held the discussions “just so that our congregation would know and understand,” he said.
“And that’s really what I was aiming at and what I’ve been trying to do since 2016,” Swanson added. It’s to give people who have grown up in traditionally white communities a greater, deeper understanding of how their African-American brothers and sisters have experienced life in a different way than they have.”
He said big conversations like this that happen in view of the whole congregation are important but can also be difficult, adding that he has “taken a lot of heat for that, for talking about Black Lives Matter from the pulpit.”
He said more organic one-on-one conversations can be equally important, even if they may be seen as a “baby step” that won’t change the tide for the whole church.
“If all you do is bludgeon them with hard messages, I think they start to withdraw at the sight of your hand because they think you’re going to beat them,” Swanson said during the panel. “... Transformation of heart is not always instant. Transformation of heart takes time and it takes biblical understanding.”
‘Every pastor is afraid’
Even attempting to introduce more-inclusive views to a predominately white evangelical congregation can be delicate work that can end a decades-long career as a pastor.
“Every pastor is afraid of losing their job because they haven’t been trained for anything else,” said Joel Hunter, former pastor of Northland
Church in Longwood. “Most of them think, ‘Well I’m a pastor. The next thing I can do is ask do you want fries with that?’ Pastors are notoriously insecure about losing their jobs. So, it is going to be difficult for any pastor to address any controversial topic.”
Back in 2012, Hunter was invited to pray during the Democratic National Convention. After the prayer, he said about 10% of his mostly white congregation — largely conservative evangelical Christians — were gone overnight.
“The people who left, I thought we had a better relationship than that,” said Hunter, who also participated in the Christian nationalism panel, as did Lead Pastor John Hampton of Journey Christian Church in Apopka. “I had taught them. I had prayed over their kids. I’ve visited them in the hospital. So you think, really? I mean, no matter where somebody is politically, you’re going to leave? I thought we were friends.
“There was a real hurt there. But there’s also a realization that doing the right thing always comes at a price.”
As the leader of the church for nearly three decades, he eventually saw some of those who left return and he continued on as pastor. But Orlando’s greatest tragedy exposed another rift.
In the days after 49 people — mostly Latino and Black LBGTQ people — were killed at Pulse nightclub in 2016, Hunter was sure phone calls would start flooding in. Surely the shooting had touched his members or the community he served and they would need spiritual guidance through their shock and grief.
But the calls never came.
The crisis, for Hunter, became an “aha moment.”
“We’re the largest church in that territory and not one call came into to
me as a pastor out of that community?” he recalled asking himself at the time.
“Here I am, I’ve spent 32 years in the community and I don’t have one relationship in the LGBTQ community.”
He told his congregation that this would change. The following January, he launched what was meant to be a year-long series of discussions about race, gender, sexuality and scripture.
The church touched on the ills of racism, the need for gun control, the devastation left in the wake of mass incarceration. Five months into his “year of introspection,” Hunter invited guests to talk about how they had been treated by the Christian church when they came out as gay.
That May conversation ended the series. By October, Hunter, then-69, was out as pastor.
“I don’t think they fired me because I had gay people in the church,” Hunter said. “I was never asked to leave Northland but it became so uncomfortable that the elders said, ‘You know, why don’t you look for another role because you’re kind of getting older here and maybe we should start looking for another senior pastor.’ ”
In the end, Hunter not only left the pastoral role, he left Northland entirely to attend a different Longwood church and start a nonprofit focused on social justice issues.
Gus Davies, Northland’s interim pastor, said he admires his predecessor’s vision, calling the series Hunter launched “a turning point for our church.” But he also said the church’s next senior pastor likely will not have success if they follow in Hunter’s footsteps.
“I think the advantage Dr. Hunter had was his many years of pastoring this church and the reputation he had built within the community,”
said Davies, who for 23 years has been one of the few Black members of the church.
After about a year as interim pastor, he said he hasn’t built the same trust with the congregation. So instead of
attempting a series similar to Hunter’s 2017 effort, he has opted to focus on having one-on-one conversations with church members who have questions about race and politics, when the opportunities arise.
But when it comes to tamping down the current wave of Christian nationalism and white supremacy that can breed inside churches, Levitt said all pastors should be willing to risk their jobs.
If the evangelical church is to change, he said, “pastors need to be willing to preach to a congregation of one.”