By skyforbes 
When I started my political science degree, I didn’t expect to spend my final semester studying televangelism, fringe internet forums, and prosperity gospel sermons on YouTube. But if you want to understand power in American politics, you have to understand the role of media and how it’s been used to mobilize one of the most enduring and influential voting blocs in the United States: Evangelical Christians.
My final research project, Televangelism, Prosperity Gospel, and the Rise of Evangelicals as a Political Voting Bloc, explores how Evangelicals in the U.S. became politically cohesive and how shifts in media, from TV broadcasts to social media algorithms, enabled that transformation. From televangelist pulpits to curated TikTok feeds, Evangelical political identity has been anything but accidental.
Media as Ministry, Messaging, and Mobilization
Evangelicals have long engaged in politics, but the media was the key that unlocked large-scale coordination. In the late 20th century, televangelism and Christian radio turned religious broadcasting into a political tool. Leaders like Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson didn’t just preach the Gospel; they preached Republican values, framed as moral imperatives. These broadcasts transformed churches into voting blocs and made faith-based political messaging accessible during morning commutes, Sunday services, and late-night programming.
Then came the rise of cable news and digital platforms. Now, Evangelical voters don’t just listen, they share, organize, and engage. Today’s mobilization happens across X, YouTube, podcasts, private Facebook groups, and even anonymous message boards. The result is a highly personalized, emotionally charged media ecosystem that aligns religious identity with political action.
One term that stuck with me: intervangelism, the digital-age evolution of televangelism, where influencers replace pastors and religious messaging adapts to the logic of virality. It’s less sermon, more strategy.
Theologies That Power Politics
Two major theological movements stood out in my research:
- The Prosperity Gospel links material wealth and personal success to divine favor. It blends seamlessly with conservative ideals of self-reliance and anti-welfare economic policy.
- Christian Nationalism envisions America as a divinely chosen nation under siege. This belief system has gained traction online, especially among younger Evangelicals active on social media, where political content is often framed in spiritual warfare terms.
These movements aren’t just influencing beliefs, they’re shaping votes and defining platforms.
The Prosperity Gospel
One of the most enduring legacies of televangelism is the widespread popularity of the Prosperity Gospel, a theology that doesn’t just promise blessings but redefines them. In this framework, material wealth and personal success are framed as evidence of divine favor. Preachers urge followers to “name it and claim it,” tying health, career success, and financial gain to the strength of one’s faith and the size of one’s donation. The result is a worldview where God functions more like a vending machine than a mystery.
Politically, this belief system dovetails cleanly with American ideals of individualism, bootstrapping, and suspicion of welfare. If wealth is a spiritual reward, then poverty must be a personal or moral failure. This logic is more than theological; it has policy implications. It shapes attitudes toward social programs, taxation, and collective responsibility. Politicians who echo Prosperity Gospel themes don’t just appeal to voters’ wallets; they appeal to their sense of righteousness.
The Prosperity Gospel also thrives on platforms like YouTube and Instagram, where short-form sermons and curated lifestyles blend spiritual language with influencer aesthetics. It’s perfectly built for the algorithm, visually polished, emotionally resonant, and relentlessly optimistic. Faith becomes content; content becomes capital.
Christian Nationalism
If the Prosperity Gospel reimagines wealth as holiness, Christian Nationalism reimagines the nation as sacred. At its core, Christian Nationalism is the belief that America has a divine mandate, that it was founded by Christians, for Christians, and should be governed according to what are often described as “biblical values.” But in practice, it often fuses patriotism with fundamentalism and frames political opponents not just as wrong, but as evil.
This theology is deeply media-driven. Televangelists like Pat Robertson built platforms by warning of moral decay and painting political battles in apocalyptic terms. That same rhetoric now circulates on TikTok and Telegram, where young influencers speak the language of spiritual warfare: “taking back America,” “standing in the gap,” “armor of God.” The church becomes a training ground not just for faith, but for political resistance.
Christian Nationalism blurs the line between religious conviction and state power. It offers a justification for everything from restricting LGBTQ+ rights to undermining the separation of church and state. It doesn’t just inspire votes, it authorizes crusades.
Not All Paths Run Through Media
While much of Evangelical mobilization happens through digital channels, not all of it does. My research also briefly explored the Quiverfull movement, a media-averse subculture that emphasizes large families, homeschooling, and generational change as a form of long-term political influence. Their resistance to mainstream and even conservative media offers a striking contrast, a reminder that political cohesion can also be homegrown, offline, and rooted in theology rather than algorithms.
Why This Research Matters
Evangelicals remain a cornerstone of American political life. Understanding how they are mobilized, whether by televangelists, Instagram algorithms, or homeschooling curricula, is essential to understanding how power is shaped and sustained.
As a political science student, this project taught me how deeply media structures influence ideology and participation. As someone entering the world of advocacy and law, it reminded me how important it is to question who is speaking, who is listening, and who is being left out.
Evangelical voters aren’t just a voting bloc; they’re a case study in strategic mobilization. And sometimes, they’re building movements one post, one pulpit, or one child at a time.
