Whatever the result of today’s election, Donald John Trump and Hillary Diane Rodham Clinton are still made in the image of God.
Whatever the result of today’s election, Trump supporters are still God’s children. Clinton voters are too. Yes, all of them. And God wants all his children to be near to him. He mourns when they mourn. He hears them when they sing and when they pray.
Whatever the results of today’s election, there are still reasons to be thankful for this country and the people who run it. We are allowed to vote. We are allowed to speak out against politicians we do not support. We write our own history books. We have running water. We do not live under the imminent threat of foreign invasion.
Whatever the results of today’s election, America will one day be judged by a righteous judge. And we will be held accountable for the things we’ve done as a nation, from bombs dropped in the name of peace to humanitarian aid delivered to war-torn regions. It will be grace that saves us from the ugliness of our sins, our racism, our oppression, our greed, and gluttony. Only grace.
Whatever the result of today’s election, God’s kingdom is coming to this earth and his plan will, one day, be accomplished in full. Whatever the result of today’s election, his will is being done and his kingdom is coming right now, even in the smallest of ways, even when we can’t see it. Even when we don’t understand.
Don’t get me wrong, I am praying for a specific outcome in today’s election. I voted for a candidate. My heart breaks at the thought of the other candidate winning; anger and frustration rise within me whenever I hear them speak. And I struggle to find the humility to love the other side.
But whatever the result of today’s election, it will be grace that saves me tomorrow. And it will be grace that convicts me to be a citizen of heaven in an earthly kingdom.
Because whatever the result of today’s election, I need to remember that I am one who follows Christ. This defines me. This directs me. This compels me to love others and love the world God has created. To love justice, to walk humbly and in grace.
And it forces me, whatever the results of today’s election, to live life as a conversation with God, and to invite others into that conversation, no matter who they voted for.
It is a simple conversation. It is also infinitely mysterious.
It goes something like this:
The people: “Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy.”
Jesus: “It is finished.”
The people: “Amazing grace, has saved a wretch like me…
Growing up in the Christian subculture was a unique experience. As was growing up in the 90’s. Those of us who emerged from a blend of these two backgrounds share common-experiences, cultural bonds and traits that make up who we are- and what we believe- today.
Here’s just a few of them:
1.) All you need to know you learned from:
2.) You seriously questioned whether or not you should read the Harry Potter books when they first came out…because witches.
3.) This was what you watched at every youth-group movie night for, oh- about sixteen years:4.) Most of the anxiety in your life can be traced back to the Left Behind series:
6.) Avalon, Steven Curtis Chapman, Plus One, OC Supertones and, lest we forget:
7.) Speaking of which: you know all the words to “Jesus Freak.”
8.) …and your first AOL screename was derived from the title (JSUSFreakgurl3599)
37.) But what cheers you up is when you read the Bible and encounter a story you’ve definitely heard before… on Veggie Tales:
In a research project titled Faith That Lasts the Barna Group looked to identify the reason why nearly three out of every five young Christians (59%) walk away, either temporarily or permanently, from their faith after the age of 15. Their conclusion, after five years of interviews, surveys and case studies, was that
“No single reason dominated the break-up between church and young adults. Instead, a variety of reasons emerged.”
Teens’ and twentysomethings’ experience of Christianity is shallow.
Churches come across as antagonistic to science.
Young Christians’ church experiences related to sexuality are often simplistic, judgmental.
They wrestle with the exclusive nature of Christianity.
The church feels unfriendly to those who doubt.
Christian heritage is a wonderful thing. But it comes with its share of baggage. One of the great challenges for those of us entering adulthood is rectifying the realities of faith with the questions of our world. How does Jesus matter outside of Vacation Bible School? Is the notion of ‘purity’ we learned as kids truly pertinent to faith? Is there room on the straight and narrow for our wide and over-bearing questions? Where do I belong?
What we have to remember- what we’re coming to learn- is these 37 things are not the cornerstone of our faith. The foundation of Christian faith is not what we do, how we identify ourselves or the way we grew up- the foundation of Christian faith is grace. Grace that permeates our homes, childhood and new beginnings; grace that opens up the gates and invites all to enter; grace that answers our questions with a gentle smile; grace that confronts our doubt with outstretched hands; grace that reminds us that we are caught up in it every minute of every day.
Maybe we can come to see our upbringing with all its traits, flaws, debaucheries, guffaws, legalities and nuances– maybe we can come to see these, not as relics of our disillusionment but as the quirky means of ordinary grace.
If we can accomplish this then maybe, just maybe, our reasons for leaving the faith can become the transformative means of God’s grace in this ongoing journey. Maybe we can take the good and the bad, knowing that Christ sees all of it as somewhat peculiar (at best) and yet loves us anyway. Maybe we can reform our hearts instead of leaving our traditions. Maybe renewal is possible and redemption- even of the most idiotic aspects of our backgrounds- does have a chance.
I am a Christian. As a Christian- particularly one of the Evangelical bent- mine is a tradition that has a reputation for abrasive condemnations of those who aren’t Christians: screaming brimstone and judgment from street corners, condemning alternate viewpoints and pushing legislation in an attempt to perpetuate our own beliefs. We’ve not exactly painted ourselves in a good light.
But the flag under which Christians are called to die isn’t one of religious propaganda, nor is the heart of our gospel a ‘turn or burn’ story. That said, there are things I- as a Christian- hope, want, pray, desire and truly want all non-Christians to know.
Here’s a few of them:
1) You are a person, not a project.
When I look at you I don’t see a box to be checked, a sinner to be saved, a victory to be won or a task to be accomplished. I see a person: a person with insights, thoughts, hopes, dreams, pains, and desires; I see a human-being, a human-being with a human story.
And sharing stories is a nebulous task. It requires time, trust, coffee, late nights, long emails, tears, laughter, life together. It takes relationship.
Projects require work, but relationships flow from love. If I see you as a hash mark on the inside of my prayer closet, then I don’t see you as (I believe) God sees you. I’ve dehumanized you; I’ve reduced you to a one-dimensional reality that I can print neatly on my Christian resume. That’s not what I’m trying to do. There’s no agenda behind my interactions with you. I’m not saying my intentions are always pure.
I’m saying that- at the end of the day- I’ve nothing to gain from you but what I hope to give.
And that’s love.
2) I don’t think you’re stupid.
While I may not believe what you believe- and I certainly haven’t the experiences nor the frame of mind with which to totally understand or relate to your views- I don’t think they’re idiotic or absurd. I don’t think you’re stupid.
Stanley Hauerwas, a Christian ethicist and theologian, once joked that he wasn’t smart enough to be an atheist. And I think there’s truth to that. Likewise, I have not the patience to be Buddhist, the courage to be agnostic, or the devotion to be Islamic. I am a Christian because I pass Jesus’ entrance exam: I come broken, sick, looking, hungry, sinning, repenting, and believing by grace. I’m incapable of any other qualifications; so I certainly don’t think you’re stupid for meeting them.
3) I think you’re wrong about God. But I might be wrong.
There simply is not empirical evidence to prove or disprove God. There exists no factual proof that leads us on an undeniable path to one religion over another. Thousands of years of philosophical and theological thought fall on either side of the Chrtistian viewpoint. It’d be either a lie or “I know without a doubt that God- as revealed in Jesus Christ- exists.” Indeed, for the Christian I would say this is impossible.
The Christian believes on the basis of faith; in faith I believe God to be real and revealed in the person of Christ. But I am gambling my chips and I’ve yet to see the final cards overturned. “Blessed are those,” says the Bible, “who have not seen and yet believe.”
Part of faith is the humble acknowledgement that it I could be wrong. 4) You are not my enemy.
I am not against you but for you. Too often, we Christians draw lines and ready ourselves for battle. Don’t get me wrong, as a believer in the one, true, God of love and peace, I also believe that there is an enemy- an anti-God, or Satan, if you will. I believe evil exists. And I do believe it has influence over people.
But I don’t think you’re hell’s minion just because you follow Richard Dawkins, wear a turban, believe in reincarnation or refuse to read the Bible.
Across the ages, wars have been fought over religion; and too many of these have been fought in the name of Christ. I’ve no desire to wage another one- and the Jesus I follow never asked me too.
What I want to do is invite you to a feast. I want to open the doors and invite you in to life with a God who went out into his creation to reveal himself to us. I want to dance with you in the tension of doubt and faith. I want to hear your story and see it as part of the story. We may not believe the same thing, but what if we’re both asking the same questions? Might that be a possibility?
We’re not that different, you and I. There’s nothing special about me that’s not matched by something beautiful in you. And we may have disagreements; but I hope that doesn’t mean we can’t talk.
Because there’s a conversation to be had. A conversation between creation and created, a conversation between you and me, us and them, they and we, God and us. And, at the end of the day- no matter what you believe, my desire is for us to enter the conversation together.