Prayer Breakfast

The National Prayer Breakfast is usually a dull affair—an annual gathering where politicians feign piety over eggs and coffee, pretending that the Bible is anything more to them than a prop. But this morning, the scene was different. It was no mere breakfast—it was a coronation.

Donald Trump, the self-declared protector of Christian America, stood before a room full of fawning believers and declared, “If we don’t have religious liberty, then we don’t have a free country. We probably don’t even have a country.” It was the kind of statement that sounds profound until you remember that it came from a man who once mistook a Communion wafer for an hors d'oeuvre.

And standing next to him, like a televangelist in a Vegas lounge act, was Paula White, his spiritual consigliere, a woman whose interpretation of scripture involves Jesus blessing hedge funds and bank transfers. Today, she wasn’t just praying over Trump—she was leading his newly announced White House Faith Office, an operation so vague in purpose that it might as well be a money-laundering front.

Donald J. Trump is not a man known for his religious discipline. He once admitted that he’s never asked God for forgiveness because he doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong. This is, of course, the foundation of the Trumpian gospel: salvation through sheer force of ego.

He doesn’t read the Bible—he polls it. If the numbers are bad, he pivots to a new message. He’s not here to follow Christ; he’s here to replace him. He doesn’t need loaves and fishes—he has Trump Steaks. He doesn’t turn water into wine—he builds overpriced country clubs and sells you a membership.

Yet despite his total lack of religious conviction, he commands the undying loyalty of white evangelicals. Why? Because he tells them what they want to hear: that Christianity is under attack, that their enemies are godless socialists, that he alone can save them. Forget John the Baptist—Trump is his own messenger.

Enter Paula White, Trump’s spiritual hype woman, a preacher who doesn’t so much spread the Gospel as she monetizes it. She preaches the Prosperity Gospel, a philosophy that suggests Jesus spent 40 days in the desert not to resist temptation, but to get a real estate deal in Scottsdale.

She famously told her followers that if they didn’t send her their “first fruits” offering—that is, their first paycheck of the year—they were spiritually robbing God. Today, that same hustle landed her a White House job.

White is also the same woman who once declared that “Black Lives Matter is an anti-Christ terrorist organization.” Now she’ll be leading the White House Faith Office, no doubt ensuring that all “faith-based initiatives” somehow involve a donation link.

The irony is thicker than communion wine. The Trump era has made televangelists respectable again. In another time, Paula White would be hawking prayer cloths on late-night TV. Now she’s taking official meetings in the White House.

And where does Jesus fit into all of this?

At no point during this morning’s spectacle did anyone bother to ask what He might think about all of this. If He did show up, He probably wouldn’t be allowed past the Secret Service. A dark-skinned Middle Eastern man with no fixed address, preaching about giving money to the poor? The Republicans would deport Him before the second course was served.

The Jesus of the Gospels would have been flipping tables at this breakfast. The Jesus of Trump and Paula White, however, would be selling sponsorship opportunities for the Sermon on the Mount. (“For just $99.99, YOU can have a front-row seat at the Last Supper!”)

The real scandal here isn’t that Trump is pretending to be religious. It’s that so many people believe him. That an entire movement that once claimed to follow Jesus is now following a bloated billionaire who lives in a gold tower.

This morning’s prayer breakfast wasn’t about faith—it was about power. It wasn’t about humility—it was about domination. It wasn’t about Christ—it was about Trump.

And so the great American heresy continues.

Jesus wept.

Paula cashed the check.

And Trump? He took the applause and asked what’s for lunch.