For countless individuals raised in devout Christian homes across North America, faith was once a cornerstone of personal identity and community—not a partisan banner. Over the last ten years, however, that distinction has dramatically eroded. As pulpits increasingly double as political platforms and worship services blend hymns with nationalist anthems, many congregations have splintered over issues ranging from public health and race to immigration and cultural wars.
This simmering tension broke into mainstream conversation recently, catalyzed by a viral video from nurse and content creator Jen Hamilton. In it, she juxtaposed a reading of the biblical passage Matthew 25, which emphasizes caring for the marginalized, with a critique of MAGA-aligned politics. The video resonated deeply, giving voice to a years-long struggle for many believers: what do you do when your faith and your community's dominant ideology violently clash? For a growing number, the answer has been to leave, even at the tremendous cost of losing their spiritual home.
"Leaving costs nearly everything," confirms author Tia Levings. "The twist is that there’s so much hope and determination to live an authentic life that you realize you’re worth the fight." HuffPost spoke with several former adherents of what they term "MAGA Christianity" to understand their journeys out of these communities.
The Blurring of Faith and Nationalism
For many, the fusion of belief and politics wasn't a sudden shift but a reality ingrained from childhood. Anna Rollins, author of "Famished: On Food, Sex, and Growing Up as a Good Girl," recalls her Southern Baptist upbringing where faith was inseparable from a specific national identity. "Faith and freedom were often talked about in the same breath," she said. "We often sang patriotic songs in church services, in addition to hymns. Nationalism was tightly woven in with Christianity."
This intertwining often presented a binary, unquestionable political directive. Author Cara Meredith, who wrote "Church Camp: Bad Skits, Cry Night, and How White Evangelicalism Betrayed a Generation," summarized the message of her youth: "Vote Republican. There was no other option... it was a matter of good and evil."
For some, this overlap took a darker, more controlling turn. Deirdre Sugiuchi, a Georgia-based writer with an upcoming memoir titled "Unreformed" about her time in an evangelical reform school, states bluntly: "MAGA Christianity is a cult. I know because I was in it." She describes a system where leaving required escaping to survive, and warns of the dangers when faith-based organizations operate without accountability under the banner of religious freedom.
The Catalysts for Questioning and Departure
Ironically, for many who left, the primary catalyst was the very text at the heart of their faith: the Bible. "I really started questioning my church’s adherence to nationalism because I read the Bible," said Anna Rollins. She came to see that Jesus' teachings often stood in direct opposition to nationalistic fervor and service to political power.
For others, the breaking point was a profound moral dissonance. Amy Hawk, author of "The Judas Effect: How Evangelicals Betrayed Jesus for Power," could not reconcile her ministry supporting assaulted women with the evangelical embrace of Donald Trump. "It made no sense for me to support Trump," she said. The contradiction became "too great to ignore," ultimately pushing her family out of their church.
Deirdre Sugiuchi's turning point came after years of trauma, culminating when she read a memoir by another survivor of her former reform school. "By keeping silent, other people were being abused in the name of religion," she realized, which compelled her to speak out and help shut the institution down.
The process of leaving was rarely swift. Cara Meredith described it as a "series of lots of little things" rather than one event, though major cultural moments like the killing of George Floyd or the January 6 insurrection accelerated the process for many. Amy Hawk observed that over time, "It started to feel like the church wasn’t about faith anymore. It was about fear and control, about who was in and who was out."
The High Cost of Leaving and Rebuilding Faith
Departing such communities exacts a heavy toll. Meredith reflects on the sudden void: "When that place, and perhaps even more, those people are gone, well, then there’s a deep void that happens just not in your soul, but in your calendar and your text messages and your social media apps, too." The loss of belonging, support networks, and even family ties is a common and painful consequence.
Yet, on the other side of that loss, many have found a more authentic and personally coherent faith. They have undertaken a process of deconstruction, separating core spiritual beliefs from the cultural and political baggage. "I’m still a Christian," asserts Anna Rollins, who now rejects the "prosperity gospel, the perfectionism, the white supremacy and nationalism, and the hyper-individualism" she sees in much of Western Christianity.
Amy Hawk describes her current faith as "much freer," anchored in verses like Galatians 5:1, which she sees as an indictment against rigid religious structures. These individuals haven't abandoned Jesus but have instead rejected the ideological framework that they feel has co-opted his message.
For those considering a similar path, the advice is clear: you are not alone. Deirdre Sugiuchi encourages seeking out progressive churches, reading about religious trauma, and connecting with supportive communities. Cara Meredith emphasizes a fundamental truth: "You belong, because you’re human. That’s it." The journey out of politicized faith is arduous, but for those who have made it, it is a reclaiming of both self and spirit.
