Curious Christian

I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of cooling the mark out. It’s a notion from sociology about how to help someone land after a fall, save face after being conned, find a way to keep their dignity intact even when it’s all come crashing down. It feels deeply relevant as we try to reckon with the aftershocks of MAGA-style Christian Nationalism. Not just as a political phenomenon, but as a deeply social and spiritual one too.

Trump’s supporters weren’t all deceived in the usual sense. Many knew he was a liar. But they believed, perhaps even admired, that he was lying for them. That’s the twisted loyalty of the con. The mark starts rooting for the conman, because the lies seem to confirm something they desperately want to believe: that they are the real Americans, the true patriots, the ones finally getting their due.

So now we’re in this strange, painful place where millions of our neighbors are disoriented, angry, and more entrenched than ever. Because when the con starts to unravel, the worst thing we can do is humiliate the mark. That kind of shame only deepens the wound and makes people cling even tighter to the illusion. That’s what fascism feeds on: wounded pride, collective grievance.

The question I keep sitting with is: how do we help people walk away from this lie without destroying them in the process? How do we help them find a better story to live in, a better identity to claim, without activating the very fears and humiliations that got them here?

And to be honest, I don’t think it can be done with cheap grace or feel-good reconciliation. Real healing demands truth. Unflinching, sober truth. It demands that we name what Christian Nationalism is: a distortion of the gospel, a betrayal of Jesus, and a danger to both church and democracy. It demands we listen—especially to those who’ve been harmed, marginalized, or targeted by this movement—and not rush to unity until justice has been honored.

But it also means refusing to write people off. Especially those who were swept up in it, who may be waking up, slowly, painfully. If we care about democracy, and about the integrity of the church, then we have to be in the business of cooling the mark. Not to excuse what’s happened, but to offer an exit ramp. A chance to recover their humanity, and maybe even their faith, in a different key.

And let’s be clear: the goal isn’t to make everyone feel comfortable. It’s to create the kind of environment where repentance is possible. Where people can change without having to lose everything. Where they can still love their country, but in a truer, humbler way. A way rooted in responsibility, not resentment.

I think about Jesus’ way. The way of truth and mercy. Not one at the expense of the other. That’s the path forward, if there is one. It’s not quick, and it’s not clean. But it’s real.

And maybe that’s enough to keep going.