In the synoptic gospels, when the currents swelled and wind howled, Jesus woke up during the storm that threatened the lives of his disciples. Although the disciples questioned his authority and were terribly afraid, Jesus woke from his sleep and settled the waves with the sound of his voice. And even though Jesus scolded them, the disciples were safe and the boat sailed on. As we think about the pending uncertainty of the 2024 election, there’s something reassuring in that story for me: God was present in the storm.
There is much uncertainty about the coming days (or weeks or months; read more from my colleague, Rev. Moya Harris on what you can expect from this election season.) But there is one thing that I know will be true in the face of the coming unknown: No matter what happens, our boat will sail on and our faith will keep us afloat.
What I do know is that people of faith have weathered many storms of uncertainty, conflict, and even political violence together before.
What I do know is that our God is ancient and holy. Our God has reigned supreme as empires have fallen and risen. Our God has witnessed explosions become stars and death become life. And if you reach out, God will awaken during the storm and steady your sail. With this deep knowing, let us pray:
God who is Ancient and Holy, may your peaceful presence wash over each of us during this anxious election season. As the winds blow and the votes get counted, help us to stay calm and grounded during uncertainty, knowing that your wisdom is our guide and the waves will eventually settle.
We pray for the safety of all of those casting votes, counting votes, and running for public office. May your hedge of protection shield them and all people from political violence and further divisive strife.
We confess, O God, that elections do not always bring out the best in our souls. We grasp toward those who are most like us; we are tempted to spew hatred and often neglect to love our neighbors. Please forgive us and encourage us to walk in solidarity with the virtues of respect and love.
We pray for the courage to walk beside each other in our differences and the power to resist spreading hatred. We pray for our entire country, broken and beautiful, fractured and flourishing.
May your enduring love and righteous justice reign abundant, always.
In the words of Assata Shakur, may we remember that even “a lost ship / steered by tired, seasick sailors / can still be guided home / to port.” Steer our ship and be our sail, O great and powerful God, as we strive to form a more perfect union and build a just and loving nation. Amen.
I have a testimony: At the end of last year, I felt an unshakable sense of dread about the 2024 elections and all that it could entail. This dread was accompanied by an acute feeling of burnout, fueled by my exhaustion with how broken and polarized our politics have seemingly become and how another election year would test both our faith and democracy. This burnout showed up in restless sleep, nagging fatigue, and a frustrating sense of déjà vu, all of which impacted my mental, physical, and spiritual health.
By all accounts, I’m far from alone: A recent Pew survey found that 65 percent of Americans say they often or always feel exhausted when thinking about politics and 55 percent often or always feel angry. Though this may sound relatable, it isn’t sustainable. Left unchecked, I fear this kind of national burnout tempts us all to tune out and disengage at the very moment when political engagement, including voting, is critical. Worse still, this kind of political cynicism and despair plays into the hands of authoritarian leaders who are all too happy to use the political vacuum created by exhaustion to gain their own power.
As Christians, we tend to approach exhausting election years with two opposing, but equally unhelpful, theologies. On one side, paraphrasing the words of St. Teresa of Avila, is the idea that God has “no hands but ours.” While rooted in beloved passages of scripture like Matthew 25, which instruct us to care for others as we’d care for Jesus himself, when these Christian teachings are taken too far, we start to feel that the burden of solving all the world’s innumerable problems falls solely on us.
Even if we recognize (quite reasonably!) that none of us can individually solve massive societal problems like poverty, racism, or war, it starts to feel like there’s a never-ending list of ways we need to do more to be God’s agents in the world. As the news stories pile up — End climate change! Cease-fire now! Avert a government shutdown! Save our democracy! — the weight of it all becomes too much to bear. In the activist world, far too many friends and colleagues have suffered mental, physical, or spiritual burnout at the hands of this kind of pressure. The problem with this theology, even though well-intentioned, is that it can result in a savior complex and mislead us into relying on our own limited wisdom and strength rather than to constantly seek to tap into God’s unlimited wisdom and strength.
On the other end of the spectrum, I’ve seen Christians face exhaustion with the state of the world by disconnecting from politics altogether and turning inward. After all, if we believe God is in control and will make everything all right in the end, why worry about anything, including the state of our politics or grave injustice? This approach echoes the Essenes, a movement during the time of Jesus who sought to withdraw from society to focus on their more communal and pietistic life. In 2024, this might sound like Christians who say the church “shouldn’t be involved with politics” or that we just need to focus on soul care. Though these are tempting responses in a world where everything feels like it’s constantly on fire, the problem is that we end up becoming “so heavenly minded that we are no earthly good,” as the adage goes. We cannot ignore that our savior challenged many of the religious and imperial powers of his time, actions that ultimately led to his crucifixion for the crime of sedition. Taking up our cross and following Jesus often does require sacrifice and courage to get in the way of injustice.
Sometimes scripture seems to embrace both views, even within the same passage. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus instructs listeners not to “worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself” (Matthew 6:25). Yet, just a few verses later, Jesus tells the same followers to “seek first his kingdom and his righteousness and all things will be added unto you.” So, which is it? Are we supposed to not worry so much or to keep seeking God’s kingdom and righteousness in the here and now?
There are no easy answers to these timeless theological questions. A popular saying often attributed to St. Ignatius tries to solve this theological tug-of-war by splitting the difference, instructing Christians to “Pray as if everything depended on God and work as if everything depends on you.” But I believe there’s a better way to be followers of Jesus in this exhausting world — a way that more accurately embodies the relationship between human beings and our Creator. Rather than just “giving it to God” or believing God’s work can only happen through our efforts, I think we’re called to be co-creators alongside God, co-laboring together to bring forth the new creation that is “on earth as it is in heaven.” For me and many of my colleagues at Sojourners, this fusion of faith-inspired activism for social justice with an inner life that values contemplation, self-knowledge, and a personal walk with God is the heart of our faith. We need both activism and contemplation to avoid the dual extremes of a burnout-inducing “it’s all on us” faith or a faith that turns away from very real suffering or injustice.
Guided by a spirituality rooted in both justice and contemplation, we can discern the kingdom-building work that each of us is most called to do. To do this, we have to take seriously the Apostle Paul’s teaching that we are one body with “many parts” (1 Corinthians 12:12) and recognize that much of the necessary work of justice and advancing the common good will be better done by others with different gifts. This also allows us to understand and honor our own limits both individually and collectively, helping us to know the times when we have work to do or when we must fully entrust outcomes to God. For people at either extreme, it can be very liberating to discover and follow this middle way, which is ultimately nothing less than following the way of Jesus.
For those of you who find yourselves utterly exhausted by the thought of another election year, I have three tips that have helped me combat burnout without disengaging from the world around me.
First, learn to recognize the warning signs and know when to pause and be still. I have found great comfort in a simple but meaningful prayer that Fr. Richard Rohr teaches based on Psalm 46:10. You simply pray aloud the words, “Be still and know that I am God” and then take a deep breath and slowly exhale. Following the same pattern of speech and breath, you repeat the phrase, omitting another word which each repetition: “Be still and know,” “Be still,” and then finally “Be.” This prayer reminds me to be still and gives me space to remember that I am not God — nor should I try or need to be! There is a profound consolation in acknowledging that followed by reflecting more deeply on God’s attributes of omniscience, omnipotence, and unconditional love.
Second, as we lean into caring for ourselves and those around us, identify a few constructive ways that you feel called to be involved with this fraught election season. Once again, we aren’t called to do everything, but we are called to do something. This could include volunteering to be a poll worker (which are desperately needed across the country), engaging in a voter registration drive, serving as a poll chaplain on Election Day through Faiths United to Save Democracy, and so much more.
Finally, we must embrace Jesus’ command to love both our neighbors and our enemies, a commitment that has become increasingly countercultural. This is especially important given how much vitriol and anger people are already feeling. As Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. preached, we must learn how to find the image of God even in our enemies, seeking “only to defeat evil systems.” We must be hard on evil systems, but we also show as much grace and empathy as possible toward people.
Loving our enemies might start with simply praying for those who are your political other or adversary. I truly believe our prayer life is a way to empower us for the work of justice and righteousness. You can also get involved in efforts like “It Starts with Us”, which is building a movement of people committed to cultivating our innate capacity for curiosity and compassion, and courage to overcome the forces that divide us.
Entering into 2024, I came out of my own wilderness of burnout by taking a real pause over the Christmas holiday and starting the new year by recentering my relationship with God. Through prayer and discernment, I gradually gained clarity about what God was calling on me to focus on in 2024 — and where I needed to honor my own limits. While I know this is not always easy or possible for everyone in the same ways, I hope you can do the same.
Home Resources Christ and His Kingdom, Not Politics, Should Be the Central Fixture of Our Focus
Christ and His Kingdom, Not Politics, Should Be the Central Fixture of Our Focus
By Randy Alcorn
January 29, 2024
This election year, many of us are already finding the political commentary and news exhausting. Never have God’s people needed the reminder more that the key to influence and change in this world is not, and never has been, politics. It is faithfulness to Jesus.
Of course, we should look over the candidates carefully and prayerfully consider the issues and where they stand, and what kind of character they demonstrate. While we’re voting for a president, not a pastor, there should still be matters of their integrity and worldview we carefully evaluate.
Still, we dare not set our hopes on the Republican or Democratic parties or candidates, or Independents, but upon the only One who can save us—our true Cosmic President, our true Chief Justice, and our true Lawmaker: “For Yahweh is our judge, Yahweh is our lawgiver, Yahweh is our king; He will save us” (Isaiah 33:22, LSB).
Ultimately our hope should be in Him, this Sovereign over the nations: “O Yahweh, the God of our fathers, are You not God in the heavens? And are You not ruler over all the kingdoms of the nations?” (2 Chronicles 20:6, LSB).
Andrew T. Walker wrote an editorial for World News Group titled “Man’s Chief End Is Not Political Obsession.” Here’s an excerpt from it:
Though we cannot stop the media from doing what it will do, it’s our choice whether to make politics the central fixture of our focus.
I’m not saying to give up on politics. Heaven forbid, in fact. I’m saying to approach politics with proper perspective and cool-headedness. In other words, to paraphrase a quote from theologian Oliver O’Donovan, Christians might be at their political best when talking about politics least. That may have a tinge of irony to it, but O’Donovan’s point is that the pronouncement of Jesus’ kingship should produce an anti-fragility and anti-frenetic spirit in how Christians conceive of worldly authority. If Jesus truly is King (and we most certainly believe He is), earthly politics is at best secondary to our lives in this age. What should be more important is your family, your local church, and your relationships.
What an impoverished worldview it must be to let politics—and Donald Trump or Joe Biden—reorder the hierarchy of loves that we are to spend our lives cultivating.
So, why, then, am I devoting a column to the subject of evangelicals and politics? Am I a hypocrite for penning such a column? Evangelical Christians need to be able to conduct their affairs as evangelical Christians without letting the external commentary swallow up the good work that is happening in evangelical churches or the political circus from distracting us from what makes us evangelicals: a fervent belief in the good news of Jesus Christ and His life-transforming power.
Read the rest here.
This year, we can choose where to fix our eyes. Instead of locking them on the short-term things we can see, we are called to turn our gaze, by faith, to what is eternal. Here are some verses to meditate on, about fixing our gaze on God and His kingdom:
“Therefore, holy brothers and sisters, who share in the heavenly calling, fix your thoughts on Jesus, whom we acknowledge as our apostle and high priest” (Hebrews 3:1, NIV).
“We fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:18).
“Look to the LORD and his strength; seek his face always” (Psalm 105:4).
“My heart says of you, ‘Seek his face!’ Your face, LORD, I will seek” (Psalm 27:8).
“I lift my eyes to you, O God, enthroned in heaven” (Psalm 123:1).
“I will lift up my eyes to the mountains; From where shall my help come? My help comes from Yahweh, Who made heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:1-2, LSB).
“But my eyes are fixed on you, Sovereign LORD; in you I take refuge” (Psalm 141:8).
“My eyes are continually toward Yahweh, For He will bring my feet out of the net” (Psalm 25:15).
“Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things” (Colossians 3:2, NIV).
“I have set Yahweh continually before me; Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken” (Psalm 16:8).
“Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe” (Hebrews 12:28).
We’re only briefly into the new year and with the Iowa caucuses in the history books and the first-in-the-nation New Hampshire primary today, the commentary around evangelicals and former President Donald Trump is already exhausting. Last week’s caucuses came with all the predictable commentary of the large percentage of evangelical Christians who voted for Trump. Leave aside all of the legitimate questions about the theological identity of those “evangelical” Christians. Everyone, it seems, can get their fix filtering contemporary American life through evangelicals and their support for Trump. We might call this the worldview of reductio ad Trumpum or, to put it in a Protestant gloss, sola Trumpa—all things, everywhere and always, are interpreted through the aura of Donald Trump.
But what matters for the sake of this column is the outsized focus that evangelical politics has become in mainstream political punditry and to warn against how that can affect the attention of the normal, churchgoing evangelical. I have only a simple plea to make: Though we cannot stop the media from doing what it will do, it’s our choice whether to make politics the central fixture of our focus.
I’m not saying to give up on politics. Heaven forbid, in fact. I’m saying to approach politics with proper perspective and cool-headedness. In other words, to paraphrase a quote from theologian Oliver O’Donovan, Christians might be at their political best when talking about politics least. That may have a tinge of irony to it, but O’Donovan’s point is that the pronouncement of Jesus’ kingship should produce an anti-fragility and anti-frenetic spirit in how Christians conceive of worldly authority. If Jesus truly is King (and we most certainly believe He is), earthly politics is at best secondary to our lives in this age. What should be more important is your family, your local church, and your relationships.
What an impoverished worldview it must be to let politics—and Donald Trump or Joe Biden—reorder the hierarchy of loves that we are to spend our lives cultivating.
So, why, then, am I devoting a column to the subject of evangelicals and politics? Am I a hypocrite for penning such a column? Evangelical Christians need to be able to conduct their affairs as evangelical Christians without letting the external commentary swallow up the good work that is happening in evangelical churches or the political circus from distracting us from what makes us evangelicals: a fervent belief in the good news of Jesus Christ and His life-transforming power.
For evangelicals, what occurs in the voting booth is much less significant than what is happening in our local congregations on Sundays or around your dinner table.
In an election year, it is more than easy to collapse and reduce the most important things happening in America to politics. How much more is that amplified with the endless drama of Donald Trump? But for evangelicals, what occurs in the voting booth is much less significant than what is happening in our local congregations on Sundays or around your dinner table. The Word is faithfully preached by thousands of pastors who labor in anonymity. Mercy ministries are helping vulnerable women choose life over abortion. Wednesday night prayer groups gather to intercede for one another. Weekly discipleship groups gather around their Bibles to study God’s Word and grow in Christlikeness. Moms and dads are hustling through hectic schedules to eat dinner as a family and pray with their children before bedtime. That is far more important than anything said about evangelicals and their political activity.
All of this can easily be forgotten when it comes to evangelicals and politics. To the outside world, we’re just a voting bloc. But if your experience is like mine, inside the church, politics is much less the focus. One witness we may offer as evangelicals is not letting political punditry have more head space than it deserves.
Since 2016, too many are wasting their lives, careers, and emotional bandwidth in the intrigue of politics. A lot of people need Trump to win to maintain their relevance. The even sadder truth is the number of individuals who hate Trump but nonetheless also need him to win in order to maintain their relevance. Make it your goal to be in neither camp. See past 2024 and 2028.
We must see through the political fog that dominates much online evangelical discourse and is foisted—fairly or unfairly—on evangelical identity in America. We must avoid both Trump Derangement Syndrome and Trump Devotion Syndrome. Surely there is a space between obsessive contempt and obsessive fixation that can moderate every side’s own worst tendency.
Non-Christians should know that evangelicals do not spend all their time thinking about politics. And for the Christians on both sides who do, maybe take a cold bath. In other words, to put it in words that many will be familiar with from the Westminster Shorter Catechism, political obsession is not the chief end of man. Glorifying Jesus Christ is. Whatever may come in November, here’s the truth: God’s unstoppable, mysterious, and beautiful providence wins out. In the meantime, keep your wits about you and pursue sanity (1 Peter 1:13). Go to church, worship God, and let the Word of God transform you. And think a little bit less about politics even while doing your civic duty.