People who identify as Christians but give money to Mainline churches and organizations aren’t actually Christians because they’re giving money to organizations that support LGBTQ people and abortion. So says the conservative commentator Megan Basham, who calls herself a “Christian pitbull.”
The controversy erupted on X after Phil Vischer of Holy Post Media asked Basham about claims she’s made regarding the Lilly Endowment’s donations to Christianity Today. According to Basham, “The issue with the Lilly grants is that they are specifically going to evangelical institutions for pastoral and ideological efforts, and (the Lilly Endowment) appear(s) to have no commitment to orthodoxy.” So she wonders why Christianity Today would be funded by “secular” organizations.
Rick Pidcock
“Are you counting the Lilly Endowment as a secular foundation?” Vischer asked. “Given its Christian founders, mission and leadership I’m not sure that’s accurate.” Vischer went on to point out that the Lilly Endowment gave money to more than 350 Christian groups last year. He also suggested, “Secular orgs don’t spend $150M helping kids worship God in church.”
But to Basham, none of that matters. She affirmed to Vischer that she thinks the Lilly Endowment is indeed a secular, non-Christian organization.
“So if a Christian gives money to a Mainline denomination or seminary, they aren’t a Christian?” Vischer asked Basham.
“No, because most of the Mainlines aren’t Christian,” Basham replied.
Vischer summed it up: “She deems Lilly non-Christian because their religion program gives grants to conservative and liberal Christian groups alike. To fund Christian work across a broad spectrum of Christian traditions is to, in her mind, cease to be Christian.”
Welcome to the divided state of religion in America 2026.
Orthodoxy or orthopraxy?
The question of who qualifies as a Christian often turns on the relationship between orthodoxy, or right belief, and orthopraxy, or right practice. For Basham — a far-right Calvinist influencer — theological commitments concerning abortion, sexuality and marriage are central to determining whether someone remains within the bounds of Christianity. These convictions also carry political consequences, particularly in her opposition to other conservative Christians like Russell Moore, David French or Phil Vischer who resist Donald Trump or criticize the Republican Party.
“The question of who qualifies as a Christian often turns on the relationship between orthodoxy, or right belief, and orthopraxy, or right practice.”
Progressives also appeal to theological and ethical commitments in determining who is or isn’t a Christian. For example, BNG’s Mara Richards Bim wrote a piece last month calling First Baptist Dallas Pastor Robert Jeffress “apostate.”
“He has denigrated Christian ethics by openly proclaiming political power as more important than personal character when choosing political candidates,” Bim wrote. “In his quest for proximity to power, Jeffress has increasingly twisted core teachings of the Christian faith to justify his support of Trump. Jeffress’ trajectory from conservative evangelical pastor to Trump apologist has reached its logical conclusion in what can only be called apostasy — the act of refusing to continue to follow, obey or recognize the Christian witness as embodied in the life of Jesus Christ.”
Megan Basham
What prompted this column was Jeffress’ claim that Texas Democratic Senate candidate James Talarico “is not a Christian.”
Today from right and left, support for Donald Trump has become one hallmark of whether one is a Christian or not. But what should be the true measure of Christian identity?
Orthodoxy and authoritarianism
Conservatives like Basham often talk about orthodox theology as “unchanging truth in an ever changing world.” They often talk about “historical Christianity” and use such phrases as, “what the church has always believed.”
And to be fair, the world is constantly changing. In a word, it’s evolving.
David Congdon
David Congdon is author of the award-winning book, Who Is a True Christian? Contesting Religious Identity in American Culture. In an interview about his book, Congdon said the ever-changing boundaries of identity and belonging create “a really perplexing dilemma for groups that pride themselves on maintaining a tradition, being a continuous embodiment of a community, and then a tradition and an orthodoxy that goes back to the beginning.”
Of course, debates could be had over what is and isn’t included in orthodoxy. But perhaps more important than what is included is who gets to determine what gets included. And when you study church history, the answer to that tends to be those in power.
“The category of orthodoxy was developed and is maintained by the violent exclusion of those deemed heterodox,” Congdon said. “That we only know what orthodoxy is by virtue of excluding people who are then not viewed as orthodox, the heretics. That legacy of violent exclusion is essential to this story of why Christians support somebody like a Trump or other authoritarian figures, because it is baked into this Christian history to eliminate those who are viewed as the threat to the community.”
Christianity as an evolving polydoxy
Conservatives like Basham claim to be faithful to Scripture. But Scripture doesn’t present the idea of its adherents remaining unchanged amidst a sea of change. To the contrary, Jesus said there were things he wanted to teach his disciples they weren’t ready to hear yet.
Similarly, when the early church considered whether to be more inclusive of non-Jewish converts, they didn’t appeal to scriptural authority remaining static in its Mosaic Law requirements, which included circumcision as well as regulations for food and worship. Instead, they chose to move forward toward greater inclusion by stating, “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us not to burden you.”
Rather than casting a vision for remaining unchanged, the Scriptures frequently use organic metaphors of seeds and plants, trees and fruit, breath and wind. And if we take the teaching of Jesus in Matthew 25 seriously, what appears to be growing is a love ethic that deconstructs human assumptions about power and instead values the presence of God in and among the least of these.
Because orthodoxy often has been established or defended through the coercive power of empire, it seems reasonable to be suspicious of appeals to orthodoxy that desire to keep submission dynamics static. Instead, we might ask how Christian traditions can continue growing toward greater inclusion, especially when Jesus himself acknowledged his disciples weren’t yet ready to hear everything he had to teach them.
So Congdon suggests we evolve toward a concept of “polydoxy,” which he says is “a religion in which the defining characteristic is that its religious and theological order is never finally defined.”
After all, love never ends. So wouldn’t a never-ending opening up toward love lead to a never-ending transformation toward more belonging and diversity? And couldn’t an organization like the Lilly Endowment giving money to 350 diverse Christian groups be considered participating in the tradition of a never-ending love?
Unfortunately, when we define true Christianity according to absolute submission to an unchanging set of ideas, we end up writing off anyone who disagrees with us as not truly a Christian. This can lead to policing boundaries without recognizing our own complicity in empire. As Congdon says, this defensive mindset absolves Christians from “examining whether the extent to which their faith and their traditions and their churches were implicated and participated in these very unjust and deeply evil structures in society.”
So as we consider our beliefs and actions, Congdon suggests the more helpful question isn’t “Who is a Christian?” Instead, it’s this: “The way that we talk about Christian identity and Christian community, is it fostering an environment that is going to tend toward violence or tend toward peace?”
Rick Pidcock is a 2004 graduate of Bob Jones University, with a bachelor of arts degree in Bible. He’s a freelance writer based in South Carolina and a former Clemons Fellow with BNG. He completed a master of arts degree in worship from Northern Seminary. He is a stay-at-home father of five children and is the author of a forthcoming book, Weapons of Worship: How the Songs of Evangelicalism Form the Soundtrack of Extremism. Follow his blog at www.rickpidcock.com.