Andy Beshear’s Perilous Invocation of Faith

K entucky Governor Andy Beshear’s new book Go and Do Likewise: How We Heal a Broken Country centers on the story of the Good Samaritan and Jesus’ admonition to “go and do likewise.” It’s a call to kindness and respect for others — something many say is long overdue. However, his broad application of the parable is a stretch in places, especially when taken to support public policies contrary to biblical ethics.

Floated as a potential 2028 presidential candidate, Beshear begins his book with an attack on President Donald Trump, lamenting that the Democratic Party has “all but ceded faith and basic morality to a modern-day Pharisee.” Even though Trump has never claimed the mantle of Christianity, Beshear fails to fully grasp how a very flawed presidential candidate garnered 30-point margins the last three presidential elections in the Bible belt. Nonetheless, his is a timely book, as prominent national Democratic candidates infuse Christian language into their political agendas this election cycle.

Several major disasters during his first term as governor gave Beshear a platform to put the Good Samaritan principal into action. In late 2021, historic tornadoes devastated several cities in West Kentucky and claimed 74 lives. Then a few months later, significant rains flooded the hollers of eastern Kentucky, displacing thousands and claiming 45 lives. “Tragedies have a way of building relationships like nothing else can,” Beshear said. “Floods don’t care about our man-made divisions.”

Just months into his first term, the Covid pandemic hit. Beshear’s daily coronavirus briefings entered the homes of anxious Kentuckians fearful for their lives and seeking guidance. Beshear projected confidence and compassion in the briefings to those (often the elderly) who religiously tuned in. The briefings earned him the moniker “Mr. Rogers” from his staff.

But solidarity behind the governor’s leadership cracked when abortion clinics, casinos, and liquor stores were declared “essential” services that could remain open while churches were told they must stay closed. Further resentment ensued when state police ticketed churchgoers on Easter Sunday morning in 2021. This was all conveniently left out of his book.

Beshear decries those who foment “culture war” issues for political gain, but nobody has put their thumb on the culture war scale more noticeably and more radically than Beshear. Less than three months into his first term, Beshear became the first Kentucky governor to speak to a Gay Pride rally in the Capitol rotunda. The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence — a drag troupe whose members dress like nuns — attended and asked Beshear to join them for a photo. He defended his choice by quoting 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 — the famous “love is patient, love is kind” passage. But what’s conveniently glossed over is that love “does not rejoice at wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth.” A group dedicated to the mockery of Christianity is textbook “wrongdoing” and certainly not rejoicing in the truth.

Beshear’s theology centers on the belief that “Everyone is a child of God,” which somehow justifies drag queen organizations that make a practice of mocking others’ deeply held religious beliefs. This is because Beshear conflates being made in the image of God with being “Children of God” (Galatians 3:6, Romans 8:14-17, 1 John 3:1). The former grants universal dignity. The latter is a specific biblical status requiring restoration that Beshear fails to distinguish.

John 1:12–13 says “Yet to all who did receive [Christ] to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.” The rubric of “everyone is a child of God” and the notion that to support people to be “themselves” — a euphemism which means self-defined sexual ethic — adds up to policies that undermine human dignity and ultimately hurts adherents of this philosophy.

He sees DEI not as a weakness but rather “an action that my faith requires.” Beshear argues that “we’re all one people” based on Ephesians 2:14, which is a gross misreading. The passage speaks of a spiritual brotherhood in Christ that transcends race, ethnicity, and gender. Such unity comes from spiritual renewal, not forced government policy of general acceptance, even if goodwill is the motivation. Beshear sees the communion table as a symbol for inclusion rather than a sacred ordinance without mentioning the sacrifice of Christ it represents.

Beshear often conflates opposition to leftwing policies by simply saying opponents are “demonizing people.” There’s no attempt to address or understand their underlying moral or policy concerns. For example, Beshear laments that sexual orientation and gender identity are no longer permitted to be taught in K-12 classrooms. The 2023 law, which prohibited minors from pursuing hormone therapy and irreversible transition surgeries, was “cruel” and “anti-trans.” His veto was overridden. Beshear champions abortion rights, even vetoing the Born Alive Infant bill in 2020.

So how can one who campaigns on Christian values actively oppose First Amendment freedoms for groups like Sunrise Children’s Services, whose state contract he tried to cancel because of their Christian values? One answer is that Beshear distinctly and repeatedly uses the phrase “my faith” instead of “the faith.” Beshear says he’s trying “to live like Jesus in this nation,” and bases his prescription for how we heal a broken country — his book’s subtitle — on that faith. The issue is that Beshear’s faith is reduced simply to “kindness” and “loving your neighbor.” There is no explanation of where our brokenness comes from, the nature of our brokenness, and how to fix it. But true Christianity teaches that restoration is possible — not by government action or mere “kindness as a policy prescription,” but through repentance of sins, forgiveness through Christ, and reconciliation to God in order to walk rightly with Him here and now.

Beshear fixates on the sins of Donald Trump, rather than the saving and transformative power of Jesus Christ, who’s mentioned little outside a few parables. What makes the book persuasive is that the narrative is emotive and heartfelt, especially as Beshear leverages stories of Kentuckians facing tragedy and how he and his administration were on the ground helping. He criticizes those who say they have faith but don’t show their faith by their works. Beshear is noticeably irked at Ronald Reagan’s famous quip “the nine scariest words in the English language are ‘I’m from the government and I’m here to help.’”

Go and Do Likewise brings a faith-infused, even if theologically bereft, Democratic response to social and moral issues that have contributed to legislative supermajorities and policy wins for Kentucky Republicans over the past decade. Beshear is weary of both the ugliness of our current politics and of Democrats losing. But justifying a broad range of policies by simply using the parable of the Good Samaritan amounts to exegetical overreach at best. Beshear is morphing historic Christian values in a 21st-century post-Christian parlance of “love,” “tolerance,” and “acceptance,” which bear no resemblance to Christian ethics historically understood and practiced.

The book shouldn’t be ignored, as it gives voice to the faith-embracing element in the Democratic Party. The tone has echoes of Jimmy Carter, another southern governor-turned-president. Beshear says he’s not running for president. But don’t be fooled: This is a playbook for how Democrats might break into red states to win the presidency in 2028. Election outcomes in Texas and Kansas — with Democratic “liberal faith-based” candidates — could be the bellwether as to whether Beshear’s strategy makes him competitive in the Democratic primary for president in 2028.