James Talarico Is the Exact Kind of Christian as David French

Or maybe it’s clearer if we say it without the polite packaging—he isn’t one at all.

Every few months the evangelical internet machine latches onto a new personality and suddenly the timelines start humming. This time it’s James Talarico. Texas state representative. A progressive seminary student. And a rising Democratic figure who has learned—quite skillfully, it must be said—how to speak fluent church.

Scripture rolls off his tongue with the rhythm of a Sunday school lesson but with the tactfulness of Satan himself. He references Jesus with the calm cadence of a youth pastor closing a devotional. The tone is warm, measured, seemingly pastoral.

And that’s exactly why the clips travel like wildfire on social media.

Because at first glance the whole thing feels familiar. The language is familiar. The posture is familiar. The soft, reflective tone is familiar. But if you stand there for a moment and actually listen—really listen—the theological ground starts shifting under your feet like loose gravel on a steep trail. Words begin sliding around. Definitions wobble. Categories dissolve.

It’s church vocabulary wrapped around a completely different moral architecture.

Naturally, the evangelical commentariat rushed in to play defense.

David French produced what can only be described as a glowing portrait—less an analysis than a kind of affectionate tribute. In his telling, Talarico functions as a moral diagnostic tool, a “Christian X-ray” exposing the alleged cruelty lurking inside conservative believers. Mike Cosper chimed in with the familiar plea for restraint. Slow down. Read carefully. Appreciate the nuance. Consider the tone.

And there it is again—that old script evangelicals have watched play out for years now.

Whenever a progressive political figure wraps their ideology in Christian language, the evangelical intelligentsia suddenly becomes fascinated with manners. With posture. With emotional temperature. Doctrine quietly fades into the background fog while everyone leans in to discuss civility and tone like a group of wine critics swirling a glass.

Meanwhile the actual theology—the thing that supposedly matters most—barely gets mentioned while sexual immorality, a murderous heart, and all manner of evil gets wrapped in church clothes and becomes the Christian litmus test.

So let’s slow down and look at what Talarico actually says.

This is a man who publicly muses that God might be “nonbinary.” A man who suggests Christians have been misguided to focus moral urgency on abortion. A man perfectly comfortable speaking as though the biblical teaching on sexual morality, the sanctity of life, and the created order can be rearranged like furniture in a rented apartment.

And yet—astonishingly—that’s not the problem in the eyes of his defenders.

No, the real problem, we’re told, is the supposed harshness of conservative Christians who notice the contradiction and say so out loud.

So we arrive at the strange moral inversion now dominating the conversation.

Supporting the enforcement of law and order? Apparently unchristian.

Deporting violent criminals who entered the country illegally? Cold-hearted.

Opposing ideological indoctrination in schools? Suspicious. Intolerant. Possibly dangerous.

But defending abortion. Normalizing sexual confusion. Expanding bureaucratic welfare systems that quietly reward sloth and punish responsibility—those positions can be presented as morally enlightened so long as they are delivered in a gentle voice with the demeanor of a youth pastor giving a chapel talk.

How does a mind arrive at that conclusion?

Romans 1:21-22 explains clearly, the unregenerate mind “became futile in their thinking” and their “foolish hearts were darkened.” Claiming to be wise, they “became fools.” Clearly, they have not been “transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” (Romans 12:2)

The answer isn’t primarily intellectual. It’s spiritual.

Because what we’re watching isn’t a disagreement about policy strategy. Christians have debated political prudence for centuries. That’s not new. What’s new is the moral framework being smuggled into the conversation under the banner of Christian language.

Talarico regularly advances ideas that sit well outside historic Christian teaching. He treats abortion as morally negotiable while quoting Scripture about compassion. He reframes sexual ethics until the categories themselves start dissolving. He speaks about God and humanity using vocabulary that sounds far more like graduate-level progressive ideology than anything drawn from the grammar of Scripture.

Yet in the telling offered by French and company, those theological disagreements become almost incidental.

Tone is what matters.

Temperament.

Civility.

The ability to appear gentle and noncombative in the public square.

Once that change happens—once tone replaces truth as the measuring stick—the whole moral map flips upside down.

Doctrinal clarity begins to look aggressive. Calling sin what it is starts sounding cruel. Moral conviction gets recast as judgmentalism. Meanwhile the act of redefining sin out of existence can be dressed up as compassion.

Affirmation becomes love.

Correction becomes hate.

And suddenly the politicians and commentators who speak most softly about moral disorder are praised as the most “Christian.”

You can watch the logic unfold in real time.

Supporting the rule of law at the border becomes evidence of callousness. Wanting criminals deported is framed as a failure of compassion. Opposing the sexualization of children in public schools gets recast as paranoia or intolerance.

But defending abortion rights, expanding state dependency, or baptizing the latest cultural ideology in the language of “justice”—those positions are described as moral seriousness.

By that point the Bible itself starts getting rearranged to fit the new instincts.

Certain passages get quoted constantly—the ones about kindness, hospitality, welcoming strangers. Those verses get repeated so often they start to sound like a broken record in a church foyer. Meanwhile entire sections of Scripture dealing with sin, repentance, judgment, and holiness quietly disappear into the background like furniture moved into the attic.

Scripture stops functioning as a revelation that confronts us.

Instead it becomes a kind of vocabulary set—a spiritual word bank that can be rearranged to justify conclusions people have already decided to reach.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth the Talarico moment exposes.

None of this appeared overnight.

For decades now certain corners of evangelical commentary have been gently pushing the same idea that the highest virtue in Christian public engagement is winsomeness. Don’t offend. Stay calm. Be empathetic. Keep the tone soft and the edges rounded.

On the surface that sounds admirable. Who could object to kindness?

But when conviction is constantly treated as suspect and gentleness becomes the supreme virtue, the entire moral framework begins to tilt. Slowly. Quietly. Almost imperceptibly.

Until one day someone like James Talarico arrives—and suddenly he’s being held up as the model of Christian political engagement.

At that moment the reactions tell you everything.

Because the real debate here isn’t about a Texas politician at all.

It’s about a question the American church has been dodging for years now.

Is Christianity defined by the truth it proclaims—or by the tone in which it speaks?

If the defining mark of Christian witness is doctrinal fidelity and moral clarity, then the celebration of Talarico makes absolutely no sense.

But if Christianity is primarily about projecting kindness, compassion, and cultural moderation—regardless of what someone actually believes or teaches—then the praise suddenly becomes perfectly logical.

Which leads us to the unavoidable conclusion.

James Talarico is exactly the kind of “Christian” David French and his allies keep pointing to as the future of faithful public engagement. The unregenerate, non-Christian kind.

And that is precisely the problem.