Every tree tells the story of its roots. Long before the branches spread and the fruit appears, the shape of the tree is set underground in the choices, compromises, and silences that feed it. Billy Graham’s ministry was one of the most visible trunks in American evangelicalism, but the roots ran deeper than his sermons. They were formed in the soil of political loyalty, selective silence, and a vision of faith intertwined with national destiny. Decades later, those roots have nourished a very different tree, one whose branches bear the fruit of grievance, fear, and partisan identity.

One root runs back to the segregated South. In 1952, Graham shocked Jackson, Mississippi by personally removing the ropes that separated Black and white worshippers, declaring he would never again preach to a segregated audience. Yet beyond these symbolic acts, he rarely confronted the theological justifications for segregation head on. This left much of the white evangelical world’s racial hierarchy undisturbed, nourishing later appeals to racial grievance.

Another root coils around the Nixon years. Graham’s public defense of the president through Watergate, and his failure to challenge antisemitic remarks in a 1972 Oval Office conversation, modeled a loyalty to political allies that outweighed prophetic critique. In that meeting, Graham agreed with Nixon’s claim of a “Jewish stranglehold” on the media and suggested it “had to be broken.” He later apologized, claiming no memory of the exchange, but the damage was done. The moment revealed his unwillingness to confront prejudice in real time, and his continued defense of Nixon until the Watergate tapes made that impossible reinforced the pattern.

A third root pushes through the scandals of the 1980s. When Jim Bakker’s PTL empire collapsed in 1987 amid sexual misconduct and financial fraud, and Jimmy Swaggart’s ministry fell under prostitution scandals, Graham offered personal compassion and even visited Bakker in prison. Yet he avoided calling for structural reforms in evangelical fundraising or accountability. The result was a culture where fallen leaders could return to influence without systemic change, a pattern mirrored in politics decades later.

A fourth root grows from the years after 9/11. Graham made occasional gestures toward interfaith respect, even suggesting that Muslims who respond to the light they have might be saved. Yet he did not publicly counter the Islamophobic rhetoric of prominent evangelical voices, including his own son. That silence allowed suspicion of the “other” to take hold in the evangelical imagination, later weaponized in nationalist politics.

The final root is personal. As Franklin Graham labeled Islam “a very evil and wicked religion” and called for a halt to Muslim immigration, his father’s public silence reinforced the belief that loyalty to one’s own, whether family, party, or movement, mattered more than public truth telling.

From these roots rises a thick trunk, a cultural theology in which Christian identity is fused with national destiny, political loyalty is prized over moral consistency, and silence is reframed as unity.

And from that trunk spread the branches we see today. Racial grievance politics. Uncritical loyalty to political figures. Immunity for charismatic leaders. Islamophobia as a rallying cry. A partisan faith identity that equates evangelicalism with a single political platform.

The biblical witness offers a different vision. “Better is open rebuke than hidden love” (Proverbs 27:5) and “If someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently” (Galatians 6:1) call for accountability as an act of love. Scripture also warns that silence in the face of wrongdoing is not neutrality but partnership in it. “The partner of a thief hates his own life; he hears the curse, but discloses nothing” (Proverbs 29:24) and “Anyone who welcomes them shares in their wicked work” (2 John 1:11). Graham’s choice to prioritize access and unity over public rebuke meant those verses were rarely embodied in his public ministry.

The result is a tree whose roots were planted in the mid‑20th century but whose branches now dominate the landscape. MAGA politics is the visible canopy, but the root system was laid long before in the soil of decisions made and words left unsaid. That is why we cannot simply curse the fruit without examining the roots. We must be willing to dig down, to test the soil of our own loyalties, to measure both ourselves and our leaders against the truth of Scripture. Faithfulness is not found in passively accepting what we are told, but in discerning what we are growing and having the courage to prune, uproot, or replant when the harvest reveals something bitter.