“And if we’re going to denounce some racism, we ought to denounce all racism.” “Racism comes in all shapes, all sizes, and, yes, all colors,” explained the pastor. When the Access Hollywood tape leaked before the election and America heard Trump brag about grabbing women, Jeffress went on Fox News to say that the candidate’s words were “crude, offensive, and indefensible, but they’re not enough to make me vote for Hillary Clinton.”Īfter the president said there were “some very fine people on both sides” of the deadly clash between white nationalists and counterprotesters in Charlottesville, Virginia, Jeffress appeared on the Christian Broadcasting Network to say that Democrats were falsely painting Trump as a racist. It’s become one of the most fascinating symbiotic relationships in modern politics: the pastor gets a national platform for his message and a leader who appoints conservative judges who will in turn restrict access to abortion the president gets the support of evangelical voters he needs to win reelection, along with an energetic and effective promoter who can explain or excuse all manner of polarizing behavior. If some evangelicals who now back Trump fret that they’ve entered into a Faustian bargain, for Jeffress it’s a wholehearted embrace. While other evangelical leaders were slow to get behind Trump-James Dobson, for example, wondered about Trump’s religiosity-Jeffress campaigned with him before the 2016 primaries even started, before Ted Cruz and Jeb Bush and Marco Rubio flamed out. He is also known, of course, as one of the president’s most avid and outspoken advocates. (which resulted in not one but two approving tweets from President Trump). He is known for leaning into controversy, whether it’s declaring that Mormonism is “a heresy from the pit of hell” (which resulted in an extended public beef with Mitt Romney) or preaching a sermon titled “Why Gay Is Not Okay” (which resulted in a protest outside his church) or having two hundred or so members of his choir and orchestra perform a rendition of a hymn called “Make America Great Again” at a concert in Washington, D.C. He has the syntax and enunciation of a champion debater and the certitude of someone who believes he gets his instructions directly from God. As he speaks, the screen behind him shows generic patriotic imagery. Tonight he’s wearing a charcoal suit and a gleaming magenta tie with matching pocket square. The 63-year-old Jeffress is trim and winsome, with a natural smile and a syrupy demeanor. “Well, he’s doing exactly the right thing in keeping this government shut down until he gets that wall,” he says. Jeffress, speaking from a remote studio in downtown Dallas, agrees completely. The jowly host revels in Trump’s threats that the shutdown could continue “for months, if not years,” if that’s what it takes to get more wall built on America’s border with Mexico. But Dobbs waves his hand up and down and tells Jeffress that he hasn’t heard anyone-“literally no one!”-say they miss the government. Across the country, hundreds of thousands of federal workers are missing paychecks, worrying about mortgages, car payments, utility bills. It’s early January, about two weeks into what will prove to be the longest government shutdown in U.S. And he isn’t simply defending Trump-he’s defending him with one carefully crafted Bible-wrapped barb after another, and with more passion, more preparation, more devotion than anyone else on television.Īs Lou Dobbs finishes his opening remarks, Jeffress laughs and nods. Here’s Robert Jeffress, talking to the hundreds of thousands of people watching conservative cable news on a typical Friday evening, and he’s defending President Donald Trump against the latest array of accusations in the news this week.