Isn’t it exhausting?
The feeling of constantly needing to stay on top of the world’s problems. The fear-mongering and seeming hopelessness of solutions surely don’t make anyone feel joy when discussing politics. I’ve noticed that nearly every political conversation I witness begins with a defensive posture.
I’m not sure anyone wants to be convinced of anything. We all want to be the ones doing the convincing.
“How can anyone think that?”
“They are so crazy!”
Phrases I’ve uttered, written, and now come to regret. Regret, not necessarily because my beliefs changed, but because I’ve experienced grace in ways that I hadn’t previously. I hold views endorsed by both ends of the political spectrum. I hold views despised by both ends of the political spectrum. I believe my faith informs both of these ends.
Thus, I don’t feel I have a political home. I don’t believe I should either.
I’m not as concerned with political action as I once was. I understand this is somewhat of a privilege for me to say. Many aren’t so lucky. This isn’t to say that politics do not impact me. Quite the opposite is true. The outcomes of the upcoming election season will most likely directly impact some very specific parts of my life. Yet, I am stunned that nearly any solutions to the problems raised in our world revolve around political involvement with one tribe or another.
As a Christian, this concerns me.
I’m not writing this to convince you of my point of view. I don’t really care about that anymore. There are aspects of what I plan to say that I hope move you, that I hope bring you and me closer to the heart of God. I’ve never truly written to convince anyone of anything. I’ve written for really two reasons:
I’ve written for myself as a way of understanding whatever is going on in my head.
I’ve written hoping that someone else might feel seen and know that they aren’t alone either.
With these statements in mind, I am going to attempt to thread the needle here.
You may feel at home in a particular political tribe. For Christ followers, I would strongly caution against that. By allowing the faith to be co-opted for political means, we sacrifice the power of our faith as a force for love by finding ourselves tied directly to the divisive nature of the culture war (see John 13:34-35, Matt. 5:43-48, Matt. 22:34-39). When we perpetuate rhetoric around needing a candidate to win to uphold our faith's values, we sacrifice those values in the process. Christianity is not a servant of the political operations of the world. The mechanism of our elections will not determine the redemptive work of God.
This isn’t to say that you shouldn’t take political action.
However, political actions are not the only means of believers.
Nor should they be our primary means. We are called to a different path, a profound adventure.
Our lives are living sacrifices, acts of love (see Rom. 12:1-2). Our vocation as believers is one of loving service to God and neighbor. It necessitates action (see Amos 5:18-24, Micah 6:8, Rom. 12:9-21).
Do I believe our faith in Christ influences politics? Yes. However, too often, we have reversed this relationship out of a posture of defensiveness. As a result, our politics influence our faith rather than vice versa. The terms with which we argue so desperately over are flawed, hindering meaningful compassion and moral clarity.
When we view God as an entity needing defending, we place our own will and fears at the center of our faith. It becomes more important for us to defend God because we need to be certain that He is worth defending. It says more about our insecurity than it does anything practically about the character of God. God does not need defending. He is God. If He needed us to defend Him, He would not be all-powerful.
Love is our target (see John 13:34-35), not defensiveness. The strength of Christianity comes from our open hands which God uses to mold the world by grace through faith. The fruit of the Spirit are our tools. How many of those are you able to pinpoint in our political machine? I’d venture to say very few (see Gal. 5:16-26 and compare the fruit of the flesh and the fruit of the Spirit).
This isn’t my attempt at “bothsidesism,” though I do see incredible flaws on both sides of our primary political options in America. Instead, it’s a recognition that when we sacrifice our modes of action for the modes of this world, we fail to place Christ on the throne. We fail to truly seek the betterment of our neighbors, spiritually, physically, and mentally.
We need a holistic faith.
Thankfully, there is grace.
I don’t include the above quote from Eugene Peterson to say: If only you thought and acted like me you’d be morally suitable or well-mannered!
In fact, it’s quite the opposite. We shouldn’t expect the world, not yet transformed by the saving grace of Christ, to act according to that standard without being agents of His love and grace. We shouldn’t expect believers to magically live perfectly overnight. We need grace. I need grace. I screw up constantly. I need accountability. The Church needs accountability. It’s okay to receive that and grow together. I’m trying to receive it myself.
There have been times in my life where that hasn’t been the case, more than I’m proud to admit. Broadly, the American Church has failed to make the saving grace of Jesus a holistic experience (see Deut. 6:1-9). We’ve simply added it to a laundry list of characteristics that describe us like athlete, bookworm, or business owner.
It is everything. It doesn’t just influence the compartmentalized pieces of our lives. It is our life.
When we are welcomed into a community of faith, we bring ourselves fully.
Flaws and gifts. Pain and joy. All of it. Well, if we show up, that will be the case.
And we should show up and welcome all.
Our preferences (politically, socially, and everything outside and in between!) may not always be good for us or our neighbors.
We’re selfish creatures. I know I am.
We don’t have the right to not care for our neighbors.
We can be more creative in solutions than our political systems allow.
Maybe we can do more to help the people around us if we were actually good neighbors in the first place.
Maybe if we stopped taking ourselves so seriously, we’d be able to see we’re all just trying our best, and people aren’t always out to get us.
It is possible to move forward in love. We can live without sacrificing moral fortitude. We can hold leaders accountable for reprehensible actions and behaviors. We can show compassion to people who we don’t believe deserve it. We can do this without demonizing the other side and taking away their humanity. We can hold firm to our faith. We can live with hope. We can live with love as the foundation (see 1 Corinthians 13).