If you assume redemption is a private journey, Darryl Strawberry’s public thanks to Donald Trump for a presidential pardon—delivered from a church pulpit—will force you to rethink everything you thought you knew about second chances in America.
Story Snapshot
- MLB legend Darryl Strawberry credits Trump’s pardon and his faith for his personal transformation during a Tulsa church sermon.
- The event merges sports celebrity, political power, and public testimony in a single watershed moment.
- Strawberry’s journey from scandal to sobriety becomes both a spiritual and national talking point.
- Trump’s decision, shaped by personal ties and political calculation, reignites debates on the purpose and power of presidential pardons.
Presidential Power and Personal Redemption Collide in Tulsa
On November 23, 2025, Darryl Strawberry, the baseball phenom once known for his towering home runs and headline-grabbing troubles, stood before the congregation at Sheridan Church in Tulsa. He did not preach about pennants or home runs. Instead, he publicly thanked President Donald Trump for the pardon that wiped clean his decades-old legal record, telling the crowd, “God just completely set me free when he gave me a pardon from President Donald J. Trump. Other presidents had opportunities, but they didn’t do it.” In that moment, Strawberry’s journey merged three powerful American institutions: sports, politics, and religion.
Strawberry’s gratitude was not just a nod to legal relief—it was a declaration of spiritual rebirth. His turbulent biography, once marked by substance abuse, legal battles, and a prison sentence, had already been transformed by faith. Trump’s pardon, revealed to Strawberry just weeks before by phone, became the exclamation point on a redemption arc decades in the making. The church, led by Pastor Jackson Lahmeyer—himself a bridge between faith and conservative politics—provided the stage for this rare convergence.
From Queens to the Cross: Strawberry’s Path to the Pulpit
Long before Strawberry’s name was invoked in presidential circles, he was a World Series hero in Queens. Yet, for every home run, there was a headline chronicling his off-field downward spiral. Legal troubles mounted: a 1999 guilty plea to tax evasion, drug charges, and a prison stint in 2002 for violating probation. The same public that once cheered him now watched in dismay as he became another cautionary tale of wasted talent. His appearance on “Celebrity Apprentice” in 2010 reconnected him with Trump, laying the groundwork for a future intervention that few could have predicted.
Ex-Mets star Darryl Strawberry talks Trump pardon during church sermon https://t.co/ywViIx2joC
— Fox News Sports (@FoxNewsSports_) November 25, 2025
Strawberry’s pivot to faith did not erase his past, but it reframed it. By the early 2020s, he was preaching recovery and forgiveness, using his own life as evidence that transformation was possible. Yet, the legal cloud lingered until Trump’s call on November 6, 2025. The pardon, covering both tax and drug offenses, was more than a bureaucratic gesture—it was, in Strawberry’s eyes, a divine endorsement of his new life’s work.
The Calculus of Clemency: Politics, Faith, and High-Profile Pardons
Presidential pardons for sports figures are rare, especially when delivered with religious fanfare. Trump’s decision was not purely altruistic; it was steeped in the politics of faith-based outreach. Pastor Lahmeyer, founder of Pastors for Trump and a prominent advocate for Christian engagement in politics, orchestrated the event with a careful eye on its symbolism. Strawberry’s story became a rallying cry for the power of faith and forgiveness, while Trump’s intervention sent a clear message to conservative and religious voters: redemption is possible—for everyone, with the right allies in your corner.
For faith communities, Strawberry’s testimony reinforced long-held beliefs in grace and second chances. For critics, Trump’s use of the pardon power—especially for a celebrity with personal connections—rekindled debates about fairness, favoritism, and the true purpose of executive clemency. Yet the event’s emotional resonance was undeniable: a congregation rising to its feet, a former athlete finding absolution not just in the eyes of God, but in the eyes of the law.
Legacy and Controversy: What This Moment Means for America
As the story reverberates across national headlines, the implications are both personal and political. Strawberry’s family gains closure, his ministry gains momentum, and his reputation—once battered by scandal—undergoes a public rehabilitation. For Trump, the pardon is another chapter in a long play for influence among faith-driven voters, leveraging high-profile acts of mercy to reinforce his brand of leadership.
The wider world, watching as sports, faith, and politics intersect, is left to ponder: Are presidential pardons acts of mercy, political calculation, or something in between? Strawberry’s journey, from the outfield to the altar, offers no easy answers. Yet, for every person who has stumbled under the weight of public failure, his story delivers a message: redemption—however it arrives—remains one of America’s most powerful myths, and sometimes, its most enduring reality.
