Evangelicals wrestle with faith and politics as ICE surge continues in Minnesota

Some 80% of evangelical Christians voted for Donald Trump in the 2024 presidential election.

But as the immigration crackdown has unfolded in Minnesota — where federal agents killed observers Renee Good and Alex Pretti and where many ordinary people have risen up in protest — some evangelical Christians find Trump’s actions at odds with Jesus’ teachings.

“As evangelical Christians, we’re known for placing a high priority on the sanctity of life and human dignity,” said Carl Nelson, president and CEO of Richfield-based Transform Minnesota, a 60-year-old network with hundreds of churches. “When we look at what is happening, we believe that any orderly or just approach to immigration enforcement has to adhere to those values.”

Between 10% to 20% of Minnesotans are evangelical Christians, according to Nelson. Minnesota Star Tribune interviews with denomination leaders, churchgoers and former churchgoers in the wake of Operation Metro Surge found that while support remains strong for the president, cracks in the alliance have emerged.

Evangelicals have been a force in America’s cultural life for generations dating to Billy Graham, who was close with a succession of presidents. But on paper, Trump — a profane, twice-divorced businessman who bragged about assaulting women and was famous for not paying his contractors — runs counter to their faith.

However, once influential leaders such as Graham’s son, Franklin Graham, got behind Trump, others quickly fell in line, said Phyllis Alsdurf, a children’s book author who spent the past five years as a member of Excelsior Covenant Church in suburban Minneapolis.

“The Bible analogy that’s often used for Trump is Cyrus the Great,” Alsdurf said, noting that although the Persian ruler was not a Christian, he was seen as the fulfillment of prophecy because he allowed Jewish exiles to return to Jerusalem.

For Romelle Haugen, a member of Believers Bible Chapel in Coon Rapids since 1990, the answer to the question of what would Jesus do in this moment is simple. Obey and pray.

A die-hard supporter of the president, Haugen called the deaths of Good and Pretti “unfortunate” and said he thinks things would be better if Minnesotans would just trust federal officials.

“I wish the president hadn’t antagonized the mayor (Jacob Frey) and the governor (Tim Walz) by announcing the surge,” Haugen said. “And I wish that everybody would just get out of their way. Let ICE do their job.”

Even some who believed that in the past — Trump said Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) would be coming after “the worst of the worst” — are starting to feel differently. They have agonized over children and neighbors being detained.

Sergio Amezcua, the founding pastor of the bilingual congregation Dios Habla Hoy (God Speaks Today), is a Mexican American leader in a denomination that’s predominantly white. Also a business owner, he voted for Trump.

“He campaigned as a Christian, and I thought his administration would be doing Christian work,” Amezcua said. “But this is all about ethnic cleansing.”

He has overseen a volunteer food distribution operation that has fed 18,000 families and counting since Dec. 2. And about 80% of his mostly Latino congregation stays away from church out of fear.

For Rachel Darling, a Minneapolis physician who grew up in a staunchly evangelical family in Indiana but no longer belongs to a church, faith in action means supporting the downtrodden, the persecuted and outcasts.

“Jesus was a disrupter,” Darling said. “Scripture tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves.”

These tentpoles — between stronghold support for Trump and care for the less fortunate — are easily recognizable to Phil Vischer, creator of “VeggieTales” and co-host of the Holy Post podcast.

“Our politics shape our theology more than our theology shapes our politics,” said Vischer, who has strong Minnesota family ties. “Whatever battle you see between left and right in the political sphere, there’s a similar battle in evangelism, except the right outnumbers the left 5 to 1, and you can always get a Bible verse to support your position.”

Those seeking biblical buttressing of law and order often invoke Romans 13:1-7, (“Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established ... ”), several of those interviewed said.

However, they also said that Christians go against principalities, as many did during the pandemic, by quoting Daniel 3:20-30, in which Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego have a miraculous escape from a fiery furnace after being thrown in for refusing to bow to the golden image of King Nebuchadnezzar.

That à la carte theology is what frightens Alsdurf.

“They can cherry-pick verses all they want, but we need to take the bible as a whole, and that is Jesus calls us to love our neighbors, not some of them or just the ones who think like us,” Alsdurf said.

In December, Alsdurf and her husband left their congregation for the more progressive Calvary Baptist Church in Minneapolis.

The change coincided with the immigration crackdown, and the Alsdurfs jumped into action. They are helping care for a Mexican American family with six children and neither parent is working because of fear of being detained.

“If (that family) showed up in our old church, they would be judged,” Alsdurf said.

The couple also believe the deaths of Good and Pretti confirm that their move to a new church couldn’t have been better timed.

“It’s a radical shift for us that’s hard because we’re estranged from family members,” Alsdurf said. “But it’s a relief to not have to kowtow to the standard view that Renee Good was a lesbian (expletive) so we don’t have to care about her, and Alex Pretti was carrying a gun so he got what he deserved.”

Darling left her last church during the pandemic. But she said she is still guided by faith even as she seeks something that validates her values.

“It’s hard to identify myself as a Christian in today’s world,” Darling said.

She added that she chose to live and practice medicine in Minneapolis because she wanted to treat refugees and immigrants and to raise her children in a diverse environment.

As raids and protests continue across the Twin Cities and on screens across the globe, many evangelicals are speaking out on social media, in the press and on podcasts.

Jay Barnes, the retired president of Bethel University, the Bible-based school in Arden Hills that has educated thousands of evangelicals, said, “I’m a red-letter Christian guided by the words and teachings of Jesus.”

He and his wife, Barb, shared a long post on Facebook imploring fellow believers to see the humanity of people targeted by ICE.

“It is unjust and arguably against the law of the land to seize people ... who have followed all the prescribed steps to pursue citizenship and place them hundreds of miles away from their families and lawyers in a detention center,” they wrote.

Trump’s immigration polices are an extension of the president’s manner, Jay Barnes said.

“All the things that my mother would have washed my mouth out for saying and my dad would have paddled my behind for doing, President Trump has said and done,” he said, pointing to the president calling Somalis “garbage.”

“When the government is doing things that violate the Constitution and the teachings of Jesus, I have an obligation to speak up.”

Barb Barnes said the family continues to pray not just for their nation but also for their denomination.

“The harm done by Christians for the cause of Christ is just gut-wrenching,” she said.

“My overarching feeling about the situation comes from Matthew 25, verses 40-45. Whatever you did for the least of these brothers and sisters, you did for me.”

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