You, Me, Some Words

Here are a couple of remarks I heard recently: (1) “How could any Christian possibly vote Republican today?”; and (2) “You cannot be a Christian AND a Democrat..” You can’t make this stuff up.

The shocking murder of Charlie Kirk has brought our nation to a crossroad.  We can watch as acts of political violence, already on the rise in recent years, multiply further, or we can find together a way back from the edge.  We can intensify our civil war of words, confident in the evil of the other, or we can choose a higher, riskier way, putting our faith in our shared humanity and longing for genuine community.  I wish I could say with certainty we’ll take the higher path, but, well, rage is easy, reconciliation hard.  I’ve preached more than a few times that there is something more important than being right.  I still believe it, but I don’t expect many amens.

Most of us who meet in this blog are Christians, so today we’ll consider it all from our perspective as Jesus-followers.  The relationship between faith and politics is always tricky, treacherous even (in more than one sense), with a certain chicken-and-egg quality. For my friends quoted above, politics came first.  How about you and me?  If faith is our answer, what difference does it make?

The other day I heard someone say that any healing for our divided nation will begin, not with our president, but with us, and so far, I’ve seen nothing to contradict that statement.  And the truth is in our democracy, real healing MUST begin and end with and among us, the people.

Now, at this point on my outline, this preacher/blogger calls the church to lead the way toward wholeness.  Makes sense.  Reconciliation is at the heart of who we are and what we do.  The problem is I can’t quite say it with a straight face.  When it comes to choosing community over division, we Christians have failed as miserably as anyone.  Please, America, do as we say, not as we do.  

I’d like to think we’re better than this.  We know a way of compassion and care that is greater than our differences, don’t we?  We know a love that seeks the good of family, strangers, even enemies.  We know a kingdom, always near at hand, ruled by One whose power is forgiveness and whose platform is true justice shaped by mercy.  Surely, we Christians have more to offer than the broad accusations and condemnations spoken so fervently over the past few days.  Maybe it’s time to rummage through our junk drawers and find our old WWJD bracelets (Google it if you’re too young).  It’s way too easy to do what JWND.

Saturday afternoon I attended a reunion of the Gilmer County High School Class of 1975.  Now, I know a lot of them hold very different political views from me (I’ve seen their posts), but, you know, the other day those differences didn’t matter.  We conjured up memories and told stories from a shared childhood and youth.  We visited the common ground that defined us and even now binds us as surely as any other ties.  If the Gilmer County Class of 1975 can manage such a moment, I’d like to think the Church of Jesus Christ can do likewise.

With our nation at a crossroad, you and I find ourselves in a come-to-Jesus moment.  The choir sings “Jesus Calls Us O’er the Tumult,” and the altar is open.  The choice before us isn’t new, but always new: idolatry or true worship, bondage or salvation, hate or love, self or others, grace or vengeance, truth or lies. Which road will we take, the wide and easy or the narrow and difficult?  The traffic is heavy but flowing well on one of those.  Dare we try the other?  Who knows, perhaps some fellow travelers will even join us.

Life is complicated, and these are worrisome days.  How can we help bring real healing to our land?  Right now, in this moment, let’s start with what we can control.  We can pray for grace and wisdom.  We can take with a barrel of salt the weaponized words launched so casually and maliciously every day and temper our own words with kindness.  Calmly and diligently, we can seek truth.  We can examine ourselves and weigh the allegiances that claim us.  We can take our seats together in worship and remember there is something bigger than you or me or even us.  And, oh yeah, most importantly, we can genuinely seek the good of the people God loves.  It’s quite a list, God’s love list.  Do you know who’s on it?  Better yet, can you come up with even one person who isn’t?