When Presidents Talk About Jesus But Don’t Mean the Same Thing
I’ve spent enough time reading presidential letters, speeches, and proclamations to know this: just because a president talks about God doesn’t mean they’re talking about Jesus. That distinction matters, especially when people argue about whether America was founded as a “Christian nation.” Most people repeating that line have never read the men who built it.
When I started working on my project to assess every U.S. president’s relationship with Jesus Christ, I wasn’t looking for surface-level faith. I wanted to know whether these men recognized Jesus specifically, not just Providence, not just the Almighty, not even “God” in the vague civic sense, but Jesus Christ, the man who claimed to be the way, the truth, and the life. What I’ve found is a mixed bag.
Some presidents talk about religion because they have to. It’s the language of national unity. “In God We Trust” looks good on money, but it’s safe, it doesn’t force anyone to confront the cross. Others, though, went deeper. John Adams, for all his talk of Providence, had deep theological views but still wrestled with the divinity of Christ. Jefferson cut the miracles out of his Bible entirely. Lincoln’s speeches are loaded with scripture and sovereignty, but you’ll strain to find the name of Jesus in them. Then there’s someone like James Garfield, shot dead within months of office, who had a preacher’s pedigree and didn’t shy away from his Savior.
Language is everything in this kind of inquiry. If a president says “God,” what God do they mean? When they say “the Creator,” is it the God of Abraham or the clockmaker of the Deists? When they say “our Lord,” do they mean Jesus, or are they using the formalities of the 19th century? It’s not about parsing words like a lawyer, it’s about evidence. I treat their records like a case file. If you claim to follow Jesus, there should be proof. Not just religious sentiment, but conviction rooted in the Gospel.
I didn’t start this project to make anyone feel better about their politics. I’m not interested in whether your preferred president carried a Bible or went to church. I want to know whether, in their own writings, they ever confronted the cross. Some did. Some didn’t. Some danced around it for decades.
When the book’s done, it won’t be an answer to the “Christian nation” debate. It’ll be a ledger—a record of whether the men who held the highest office in the land ever publicly acknowledged the man who claimed to be King of Kings.
If you’re curious where that’s headed, I’ll post updates from time to time at carterfsmith.com.