What Do We Do With Them Afterward?

By LONNIE KING

I’ll be honest. When I first saw the image of evangelical pastors gathered around a golden statue of Donald Trump praying for God’s blessing, I laughed.

Not politely chuckled. Actually laughed out loud.

Because how could you not?

For anyone raised around church culture, the symbolism practically writes itself. It looked like a modern remake of the golden calf story from Exodus — except this time the idol (who actually resembled a fatted calf) wore a navy suit and red tie instead of jewelry melted down in the wilderness.

And the irony is almost too perfect.

These are not people unfamiliar with the biblical warnings about idolatry. These are people who built entire ministries around identifying “false gods” in culture. They warned generations of churchgoers about moral compromise, worldly corruption, and the dangers of placing political power above spiritual conviction.

Yet there they stood.

Hands extended. Heads bowed. Praying around a golden political figure like he was some divinely appointed vessel of national salvation.

In the moment, it feels absurd enough to simply mock. Because, honestly, some of it is darkly funny. There’s a surreal quality to watching people become the exact cautionary tale they once preached against.

But eventually the laughter fades and something heavier settles in.

The Real Problem Isn’t the Statue

Because the statue itself is not the most unsettling part. The unsettling part is the blindness.

Nobody standing around that golden figure believed they were committing idolatry. That’s what makes moments like this dangerous. Human beings almost never recognize their own false worship in real time. We tell ourselves we’re defending truth, preserving order, protecting values, saving the nation.

The Israelites in the wilderness probably didn’t wake up that morning saying: “Let’s betray God today.”

They were scared. Impatient. Disoriented. Desperate for certainty and visible leadership.

History suggests those emotions make people vulnerable to all kinds of things they once believed they would never become.

And that’s the part of this moment that no longer feels funny to me.

Because someday this movement will lose momentum.

Someday Donald Trump will fade from public life one way or another. Someday the rallies, slogans, statues, prophecies, and messianic language will quiet down.

Then what?

When the Fervor Dies

What do we do with the pastors who wrapped authoritarian politics in the language of Jesus?

What do we do with people who presented cruelty as righteousness, conspiracy theories as discernment, and political loyalty as spiritual maturity?

And what do we do with those who made an open mockery of the book and faith they purportedly would defend with their lives?

Do we simply pretend none of it happened?

That feels dangerous.

Because many of these same leaders will eventually—and likely quietly—want to return to positions of moral authority where they’ll want to counsel families again, mentor young believers again and stand in pulpits wanting to speak about ethics and character again.

And if there is never any real reflection, repentance, or accountability, what exactly are we restoring them to?

But the opposite extreme feels dangerous too.

Part of me understands the temptation to permanently cast these people out of respectable society. History is filled with movements that collapsed under the weight of their own extremism, leaving followers scrambling to reinvent themselves, deny their participation, or quietly disappear from public view.

But isolation and humiliation can radicalize people too. A society built entirely around vengeance eventually poisons itself.

So, I don’t know the perfect answer.

Unity Without Honesty

I only know that “unity” without honest accountability is worthless.

Trust does not magically regenerate because the banners come down and the slogans stop trending. Reconciliation without truth-telling is just collective amnesia wearing nicer clothes.

And maybe that’s what unsettles me most.

Not the gold statue. Not even the pastors praying around it. But the realization that many of the people involved genuinely believe they are the righteous ones in this story.

They already knew the warning signs. They already had the story. And somehow they still walked straight into it anyway.

So now that they’ve shown us their decisions and choices, what do we do with that?

I honestly don’t know.

But it’s starting to feel like the fallout from this era of American history may take generations to recover from.

Grace and grit to you! – LK