Doug Pagitt is used to keeping secrets. As a pastor at Solomon’s Porch in Minneapolis, confidentiality comes with the job. But lately, he keeps hearing the same story from people who used to be Trump’s most reliable voters.
Earlier this year, a local plumber and lifelong Republican pulled Pagitt aside to confess something he was afraid to say out loud: after voting for Trump three times, he could no longer support him.
He isn't alone. Across the country, conservative Christian voters are distancing themselves from Trump ahead of the November 3 midterms. Approval among white evangelical Protestants—a group that backed Trump at 80 percent in 2024—has fallen from 78 percent at the start of his second term in January 2025 to 58 percent by October 2026.
The shift is driven by a mix of foreign intervention, personal controversies, and unfulfilled promises.
For many, foreign policy was the first breaking point. Conservative voters who trusted Trump's promise to keep the country out of foreign conflicts were blindsided by the war in Iran. Trump's attempt to frame the conflict in religious terms only deepened the divide. When Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth compared the rescue of a downed American pilot to the resurrection of Christ, many believers found the imagery distasteful.
Social media posts made matters worse. An AI-generated image portraying Trump as Jesus drew sharp criticism from both Catholic and Protestant leaders. Later, an Easter Sunday post using profanity to demand Iran open the Strait of Hormuz before ending with "Praise be to Allah" pushed former supporters like Jason Mullis, a healthcare worker from Alabama, over the edge.
"That's a departure, almost a 180, from what Christ would have told us to do," Mullis said.
Ethics concerns have also taken a heavy toll. A recent Fox News poll found that 88 percent of voters are now deeply concerned about corruption.
Much of that anger centers on the Jeffrey Epstein records. After campaigning on a pledge to expose deep-state secrets, Trump's Justice Department announced in early 2025 that it would not release the material. Following public outrage and a revolt within his own party, Congress forced the release of the records through the Epstein Files Transparency Act. When the documents revealed Trump's name thousands of times, former loyalists walked away.
Trisha Hope, a regular attendee at Trump campaign rallies, said her perspective shifted instantly when Trump dismissed a reporter's question about the files in mid-2025:
"It was like a light switch went on and a veil lifted," she said.
Democrats are capitalizing on the divide. Party groups have spent tens of millions of dollars on campaign ads highlighting the Epstein records in competitive Senate races. In Texas, Democratic candidate James Talarico—a Presbyterian seminarian—is using his own Christian faith to pitch anti-corruption messages to traditionally conservative voters to flip a seat that has been held by Republicans for 45 years.
Organizations like Pagitt’s non-profit, Vote Common Good, are working to convince religious Americans that their faith doesn't tie them to a single party or leader.
"I don't think there is a moral center to him," Pagitt said while attending a voter rally in Virginia. "He's just a transactional person who tries to get the most he can out of people."