20 years later, I still despise this day. But as I have moved from a small child growing up in a strongly republican home to a pastor who is responsible for the spiritual guidance of individuals living in a politically partisan country, the reasons for my post election blues have shifted. I don’t dislike the day after elections, because one party wins and another loses. I’m not that preteen boy who takes his political cues from his family’s party. I’m not disappointed because I think America is lost and going to hell in a hand basket, as some of my Facebook acquaintances seem to think.
No, I am disappointed because of the lack of influence that the Gospel seems to have in the lives of those who call Christianity their faith tradition. I am discouraged, because so many that I call friends and colleagues value their civil religion over and above a real commitment to the radical kingdom alternative that the gospel offers. I am discouraged to see that so many are more emotionally effected by the results of an election than from the coming of Christ’s kingdom into our lives and hearts, an advent that transforms both individuals and societies.
When I moved into my role as a pastor in 2005, I began to see a church that stands in the hallways of our houses of worship speaking more about politicians than about the work of God in the world. I listened to Sunday School classes that sounded more like political stump speeches than articulate expressions of biblical exposition. I found that American Christians were more enthralled with their government than with their faith. I realize that much of this comes as result of the church’s lack of practicality in the world. We have been far too other-worldly. Our message has not been for now, but for later. In this environment, our parishioners have nowhere else to turn for practical results than to the sphere of politics.
It’s not that this principle applied to one party more than the other. Though, I have always worked with parishioners who politically lean right, I have been in many environments with Christians who find themselves on both sides of the aisle. In both settings, faith has accompanied political persuasion not guided it. The 2004 and 2008 elections are perfect examples of this. In 2004, while in New Jersey attending Princeton Theological Seminary, President Bush was seeking his second term in office. I remember waking up the morning after the election and making my way over to campus for one of my 1st year courses. I didn’t have to wait to get to campus in order to determine the general tenor of my fellow seminarians. The depressed feeling was palpable even on the bus ride over to campus. Of course, the darkness only thickened once we got to campus. But the strangest part of the day came when I made that afternoon train ride from Princeton Junction to Matawan in order to attend our midweek worship services. Somewhere between these two train stops, the depression lifted. Christian hearts were encouraged. My parishioners were hopeful. It was a day of celebration. The sun was out, and the future was bright. Yet both of these worlds were Christian. Obama’s election in 2008 wasn’t much different. I had moved from Princeton to Duke, from the godless North East back to the Bible belt with sugary sweet ‘bless your heart’ Christians, but the division was the same. I went to Duke the morning after the election to find a campus alive with celebration over the nations election of the first African American president, and to church that night to find a church in mourning. Yet both of these worlds were Christian.
Both of these worlds were Christian?
In the tension, I felt the loss. I felt the loss of a faith that rises above politics. I felt the loss of a Christianity that cares for human values whether they are infant or elderly, black or white, foreign or domestic, enemy or ally. Humans matter to God. Neither political party gives us the option to value the full breadth of humanity from God’s point of view. In this tension, we have allowed our Christian identity to take the back seat to our political identity. We have idolized our empire and forgotten Christ’s kingdom.
On this day, I feel the loss most poignantly for our children. In the 2008 election, I was forced to look deep into the eyes of our children and remind them that the outcome of this election is not something that strips us of our joy and our hope. Our hope was never found in this event or any other political event of the past 200 years. The only political event that ultimately matters to us is the political coupe that took place 2000 years ago when Christ defied the decree of death leveled against Him by the Roman Empire. It is a political event that deeply transformed the history of humankind. It was the inauguration of kingdom that has no end. That political event is what grips our hearts, transforms our actions, changes our speech, frees us from the bondage of our economy, brings justice to the whole world and liberates the cosmos from the oppression of death.
I’m certain there will never be a U.S. president who could offer that type of hope or change. But for some reason, we keep placing our hope before them assuming that they hold our freedom in their hands. Today, as any other day, I rejoice for I know where my freedom comes from, and I know that the power, which raised Christ from the dead, rests also in me and will give life to my mortal body. It is this power that we carry to world, a power that ends wars, values life no matter where it is found, and is the great equalizer of all things. If you are struggling this day to remember your Christian identity, take hope in these principles remember that the empire of this century is not your own. Your kingdom is all around you, though often undetected.
