“The human heart is the first home of democracy. It is where we embrace our questions. Can we be equitable? Can we be generous? Can we listen with our whole beings, not just our minds, and offer our attention rather than our opinions? And do we have enough resolve in our hearts to act courageously, relentlessly, without giving up — ever — trusting our fellow citizens to join with us in our determined pursuit of a living democracy?” Terry Tempest Williams
“I don’t usually post about politics…” I’ve been seeing a lot of social media posts lately, that begin with those words. I understand it, but still I want to say to them, Thank you for finally engaging the conversation! It’s difficult to talk about politics, especially in a public forum like social media. But, we don’t get an out when it comes to politics. I think it was Parker J. Palmer who pointed out that social media may be a good place to start a conversation about politics, but it’s not necessarily the best forum for extended conversations about politics. It’s true. Conversations about politics have the potential to devolve, the longer the thread extends down our Facebook pages.
But, regardless of its efficacy, people are having the conversation on Facebook. Whatever you may think about that, it’s worth noting that our mandate to be salt and light extends to every venue in which we find ourselves.
Somewhere along the way, we got the impression that it’s not polite to talk about religion, or sex, or politics in the company of others. But, in the company of others is exactly where we practice our religion, our sexuality, and our politics. Not to mention the fact that our decisions in each of these areas impact others, every single day. We don’t want to be offensive, we say. We don’t want to have to defend ourselves, we argue. Because we have pretty much driven a stake into the ground when it comes to these issues, and we’ve hammered that stake in with the gigantic bible we hold in our hand and then we’ve tied an American flag to that stake.
We don’t have to be politicians, but letting fear of a different opinion, or of being challenged, or of being laughed at is not a good excuse for people of faith to exit the public discourse. Even the fear of a changing world that may not include the comforts and the safety and the lifestyle to which we’ve grown accustomed is not an excuse for exiting the public conversation.
When I was about twelve years old, I asked my youth pastor a question. I don’t know what the question was, but I do remember his answer. He told me, “You’re assuming America will always exist as a country.” It was a brilliant answer and, what I believe my youth pastor was encouraging in me was a realization of my true citizenship. While my passport is issued by the United States government, I am — ultimately — a citizen, an ambassador, and an advocate of the Kingdom of God. And so are you.
We forget this. We forget to look up. Or, when we do look up it’s in the hope that God will rescue us out of the craziness instead of walking us through it, as agents of peace and reconciliation — as salt and light. We are partners with Christ in the restoration of this world. We are called to help push back the darkness and make way for the light. But, we have heard these marching orders and responded to them by adopting the strategies of the kingdoms of this world. We become combative and we pick and choose sides and we clamor to be first and we puff out our chests and we strive to be the greatest. All this, in spite of the fact that Jesus clearly taught that the last shall be first, and those who live by the sword (whether the lashings we hand out with our words, or the physical violence we advocate) will die by it.
Our identity is not in a political party. It is not in a certain bill. It is not in the Constitution or any of its Amendments. Our identity is not in our earthly citizenship. We may have strong feelings about abortion or climate change or health care or immigration, but these issues do not define us. If my feelings about racism or same-sex marriage or a political candidate or gun control prevent me from viewing anyone with anything other than compassion and love, then I am in the wrong and I’ve allowed my position on an issue to trump my loyalty to Almighty God.
There is no guarantee that our country will stand the test of time, or that our democracy will hold up under pressure. After all, democracy is a great experiment, and we haven’t been perfect. Terror is terror, no matter how you color it, label it, or categorize it and we have not been exempt from inflicting terror on others, regardless of how terror is defined. So, how do we love God in the midst of a culture in which others, even people of faith, disagree with our view of the world and the people in it? The answers to that question, when taken at face value, seem dangerously and illogically strange:
Yes, And… When you hear yourself wondering, “I don’t understand how anyone can support __________,” consider that thought a cue to actually investigate the question. It’s so much easier to brush someone aside or write them off when their political viewpoint is different from yours. Instead, listen to the arguments from the other side, with an ear to understanding how they got there. When someone states something with which you disagree, instead of mounting your defense with links and three-point rebuttals, adopt a posture that says, “Yes, and…” In other words, hear them out, just as you’d hope someone would hear you out.
Be clear about your citizenship: We are not here to advance a particular political agenda. That’s where the Pharisees and the disciples got hung up. Everyone was looking for a Messiah who would utilize power through the political systems of the day to subdue the world and, by extension, make his followers famous, right, and great. Our mandate is love. While we live in this world as voters and politicians and parents and students and entrepreneurs and teachers and farmers and physicians and artists and engineers, our mandate is love. We exercise that love through the work we do, the votes we cast, the conversations we engage, the people we serve. Sometimes things will go well for us, and sometimes they won’t. But that doesn’t mean God has left us. Our ultimate citizenship is the Kingdom of God, and not a country on the map. That citizenship links us with every single person in every single country on this earth, and our mandate is to love them all. Period. No exceptions.
Stay spiritually engaged: It’s easy to check out of the process. We become fearful or worried or weary or uncaring, and so we throw up our hands and throw in the towel. But, remember Esther? Queen Esther faced much more than an argument on Facebook when she decided to go to the King to save her people. She did not march in and demand something from the King. Instead, with prayerful humility, the Queen called for a fast. For three days and three nights, the Jews abstained from eating and drinking. At the end of the fast, the Queen invited the King and his advisor to a banquet. Imagine that! What if we followed that example? What if, instead of taking sides against one another, we joined forces together to fast for our country, for our world, and for our communities? Can you even imagine it? The options available to us are many, and they include prayer and fasting — individually, and as the Body of Christ, regardless of party affiliation, class, culture, race, or language. But, when we’re distracted by fear or anger or worry or doubt, we resort to our base reactions of fighting and polarization. In the chaos, the whisper of the Spirit of God is drowned out and we lose our saltiness and our light is snuffed out.
As citizens of the Kingdom of God, our weapons are not the weapons of this world. Paul said it like this:
For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. (2 Corinthians 10:3-5)
When we think about politics from the perspective of our true citizenship — a citizenship that is not threatened by talk of walls or bombs or vetoes or electoral votes — we are better equipped to talk about politics in a way that welcomes transformation, reconciliation, and restoration. When we find ourselves willing to lay down our lives because of the Kingdom of God, we open the way for love to rise to the top and our allegiances to earthly trappings will fall away. When we recognize that our mandate to love extends beyond the shores of our nation, we understand the truth that our hope is not in the rulers of this world. Our political discourse, as people in the world but not of it, elevates the conversation, embraces those with whom we disagree, and extends beyond our desire to be right and comfortable and safe.
I don’t write this as someone who practices it well. But I do believe it. I believe people of faith — faith that sets us free from the need to maintain a certain lifestyle or country or opinion — have a voice that needs to be heard in the political discourse. Not as people who hold unswervingly to a position or an agenda or even a nation. Especially not when the things we’re holding onto make us unable to love — truly love — our neighbors and our enemies. As long as we’re distracted by fear or worry or anger or lack of concern, we will never be able to come together and exercise our faith in ways that push love into the brokenness, or light into the darkness.
Thanks for sharing this. I love the way you frame the discussion/guidance and it is so true. And we do not use the “yes, and…” often enough.
I learned about “yes, and” from an episode of This American Life. It was revolutionary for me.
Thank you, as one who has been guilty of making decisions based on sound bites, I am trying to dig deeper. I shake my head often but I really do want to know why a person supports a certain candidate. Why is it so hard to get to the issues? I need this reminder to look up.
I think the issues are different for different people, and that makes it hard to have a conversation based on issues. When we engage people from a posture of love and mercy, the issues take a back seat to things that may be more important. We start to ask the questions like the ones at the top of this post: “Can we be equitable? Can we be generous? Can we listen with our whole beings, not just our minds, and offer our attention rather than our opinions? And do we have enough resolve in our hearts to act courageously, relentlessly, without giving up — ever — trusting our fellow citizens to join with us in our determined pursuit of a living democracy?”
Good reminders, and jump off point for discussion, Deidra. I’m curious, what news sources do you trust? Where do you go to learn the truth in this age of agenda driven media? I believe less than 50% of what I hear, see and read, until I can determine that it’s supported by several sources, etc. {unless it is said by someone I know and trust – like you, for instance}
I had another thought while typing this. . . many of my “friends” on FB don’t profess to be Christians. While everything you wrote here should still govern my responses as a Christian, there is an additional element present when having discussions with non-Christians – potentially! Not sure I’m expressing myself well, but this is a whole other discussion! As always, thank you for challenging us to talk about the hard stuff.
Great questions, June. First, let me say I majored in communications in college. My intent was to be a news reporter. However, in my senior year, I realized that career wasn’t for me, but I was so far into it, it didn’t make sense to start over and claim another major. Plus, I didn’t have the money for that. I say all this to tell you I enjoy following “current events” as a writer and as someone with a deep fascinating with news reporting. I don’t know if I can say I “trust” any particular news source. I think, when functioning in a capitalist society, money sullies the agenda—no matter who you are. Having said that, I’ll tell you that I record the Friday edition of the PBS Newshour every week, primarily to watch the news analysis with Mark Shields and David Brooks. These two men represent a liberal/progressive perspective and a conservative perspective. Each week, they review the news from their particular perspectives. (I could talk about this forever, so I’ll cut it short, here.) I watch other news shows, but I use all of them to give me a sense of what’s going on in the world, and how to direct my prayers and questions to God.
While I was writing this, I was aware of my clear, Christian *slant.* I thought about a disclaimer, but didn’t feel led to go in that direction. But, it’s an important point you make. The bottom line for me, is love. No matter what. And so, when it comes to my friends who think or believe differently from me, “Yes, and…” is my posture. I want to learn from them. I want to be informed by them. I want to understand their perspective. Some of the people who have been most instrumental in my journey back to God were people who had no particular faith or religion. Their compassion and thoughtfulness were compelling to me, and they have been some of my dearest companions. It behooves me to listen more than I talk when I’m around them. They broaden my world and stretch my faith.
Thank you for these wise words. After a few exhausting conversations on Facebook I realized I could respond the way I responded to my students, staying neutral and calm. I spoke up about a volatile issue with a friend the other day and did just that. I thanked her for her opinion. She wasn’t going to hear me, so I didn’t try to offer my story. But it was good to hear hers. And it good to stand up even a little for my perspective. (The real point I was making that people who are for that issue are not wacky right wing nuts like she had portrayed.) I think we’re still friends.
People are not their opinions and I have been blessed by friends who let me rant and work out my thoughts without judging me and without rejecting me. A few have gently challenged me and I have listened and modified my ideas.
It’s sometimes a deep relief to know we don’t have to take sides but rather we can be citizens of the Kingdom.
One of the things my husband learned when he was studying for his doctoral degree was the idea of having a “non-anxious presence.” That concept has helped us on so many levels and it sounds like something you know about, too. 😉
It’s a challenge to remember that people are not their opinions. When we can remember that (and Lord knows, I struggle with that one), it opens space for grace in the relationship. Grace for the journey. We do not have to take sides. We truly do not.
Yeah that reminds me of the guy who spoke to us after the shooting at NIU. He said the biggest gift we can give people is to listen while being relaxed, especially in our pelvic floor. I thought that was very insightful and wise, just what you’re saying here too. What a relief to not to have to take sides but to be free to listen. I’m trying to learn that non anxious presence when I ride my horse. It’s quite a practice for when the adrenalin gets high with people too…
Deidra, this is Excellent. Wise. Timely. On a much smaller scale, yet very serious to me, I’ve just been through a ‘battle’ of a different sort. One with my emotionally and mentally-unstable sister. I did not handle it well at all. I was backed into a corner and I came out fighting. The ‘relationship’ is now broken, severed, after years of ups & downs. Apart from God this will never be righted. Did either of us use “prayerful humility”? No. Did we resort to our “base reaction” of fighting? Yes. All our years of a shared, dysfunctional history has worked mightily against us. Even though I’m equating your post to a personal issue I’m struggling with right now, your principles for ‘combat’ are the same. I have failed the test, but I am learning much from it. Your words have helped greatly. Thank you.
Jillie, I’m not a priest or a pastor. I am simply another person, on the journey. But, there is something significant in confessing our stuff to each other. Thank you for sharing your story here. For what it’s worth, I forgive you, sister. Those familial struggles are so hard to navigate. For me, they sneak up on me and I am caught off-guard. In those instances, I lose it. And then I am filled with regret. I’m praying you find a way to release this exchange with your sister, and that you forgive yourself, too. Praying for peace between the two of you, and in your hearts.
Deidra, I’m new to your writing, but I’m very glad to have found it. While you may not be a priest or a pastor, you’re discipling others by sharing these thoughts. I appreciate your candor and brave vulnerability by wading into tough topics.
This post has been encouraging and positive, which doesn’t happen much when it comes to talk of politics. And if your only obvious bias is toward love, that’s one I can get behind.