A New Hope

Those close to me know that I have spent a good portion of 2019 wrestling with a decision. I have made no secret that one day, I hope to have the privilege of serving as an elected official in some capacity. I can think of no greater honor than to serve the people of my community in an effort to impact their lives, and livelihoods, for the better.

What I wasn’t prepared for, was an opportunity to do this about ten years before I had planned. Every politician likes to begin by humbling stating that they were asked, and are considering a run. In my case, that’s exactly what happened. I was shocked, thrilled, and terrified all at the same time, but in a way that I believe was healthy. I spent the next two months analyzing the opportunity, considering the implications for myself, my career, my son, my family, seeking counsel from those I trust, and making a good old fashioned pros/cons list. If we’re being completely transparent, it’s also why I haven’t written much this year.

Unexpectedly, something profound happened in a conversation I had seeking counsel. A realization that has brought so much of my struggles the past three, five, ten years into focus.

I was speaking on the phone with a mentor (who for the sake of anonymity, will remain nameless) — an individual that has had a sincere impact on my life, and helped to instill both my deep love of country and a heart guided by faith. Their advice? “Don’t do it. Don’t run. It’s not worth it. You won’t make a difference.”

I thought that would be the hardest thing I could hear in this process. They then said why: because in their opinion “America is beyond saving.”

Pause for a moment and let that sink in.

A person with whom I deeply respect and helped shape me, in a conversation about public service, telling me the country I love — is lost.

Their reasoning was both tangible and philosophical. We are more deeply divided as a nation than we have been in modern history. But beyond that, this individual made reference to their time in Bible College — when students were proclaiming that America couldn’t exist in the end times, because there is no mention of our country in Revelation (a point Bible Scholars hotly debate to this day).

At that time, 40 years ago, this individual thought the idea was absurd. Of course America will be around until the end-of-days, it’s the greatest nation on earth. But fast forward to today’s “immorality” and political division, and it’s “obvious” that this won’t be the case. Their last point, was that while this was sad — it was also “an exciting prospect” as we watch what God does.

While this particular conversation about service was more than I bargained for, it in fact, and perhaps more importantly, took me back to my own college days.

I was on a flight heading home. On this particularly evening, I was enjoying a lucky bump-up to first class — and feeling on top of the world. A rather scholarly gentlemen was seated next to me, and was quite curious how 19-year-old-me had found himself in the forward cabin.

In asking me what I did (at the time I was a Bible College student, interning at a mega-church) he volunteered his own story. He told me that while he hadn’t lost his faith, he had lost faith in the church. As he watched a growing urgency to legislate Christian morality, he believed the church had become too political — pointing to a consistent message from the church through the 60s, 70s, and 80s: America must repent from its wicked ways, or the country will fail. However, the clock was running out on that argument, as the country had continued to become more secular and continued to prosper. In his opinion, the message was about to shift —

While the evangelical church spent the last 30 years warning that America may fail, over the next 30 they would begin to say that America must fail. It must. For all that it has become, it must fail. And when it does, they can stand back and say “See — we told you, moral decline.”

Much like my mentor in their college days, I thought this idea absurd. No WAY that was going to happen. The people who have a 4th of July celebration at their church were going to proclaim the country’s doom? NOPE.

Yet, here we are.

It was during this phone call a few weeks back that this all came full circle for me. I grasped what I may have known, but could finally articulate: It isn’t America that is beyond saving — it’s the evangelical church.

The people who once stood for love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control — now finding their identity in everything but. A church group who is known more for their objections, their damning of others, their lack of compassion, their hypocrisy, their embrace of words over actions — than anything that actually resembles the ministry of Jesus Christ. A church group doing more to push people away than they are to bring people in.

It’s a devastating realization, one leaves you wondering: where do we go from here?

Is our faith something that must be kept quiet? When we share it with others do we need to first apologize for those who misrepresent us? Do we have to surrender our love, compassion, and patriotism to those who would use it as venom?

In speaking with many I’ve known for years, the answer seems to be yes. They don’t want anything to do with the evangelical world. They’ve kept their faith, and will pass it along to their children, but when it comes to the church — they’re “out.” And it’s hard not to feel defeated or resigned.

And yet, I believe there is a new hope.

Sometimes quietly. Sometimes loudly taking on the establishment. There is a new breed of compassionate Christianity taking hold in America. See the words of people like Rachel Held Evans (whose recent loss is heartbreaking, but her impact more relevant than ever) Barbara Brown Taylor, Rachel Hollis, and others. Look at the hearts of the people around you quietly holding true to what they believe. See people recognizing the need for change and taking bold new stands. See the small churches operating outside evangelical culture quietly serving their communities.

To bring this back to my mentor’s words, to me — the prospect of a post-evangelical America is “an exciting prospect.” A place where Christian faith is based on the love, and compassion, and hope of Jesus Christ rather than the exclusion and damnation that has become prevalent in our society.

What I believe comes next is not a Martin Luther-esque moment, but rather the beginnings of a movement — where our faith is rooted not in religious politics, but in love.

A future built on the knowledge that the way we conduct our lives, run our government, and give praise in our houses of worship — have meaningful impact on people’s everyday lives. It’s not about flowery words on Easter, it’s about what we’re willing to do for the person across the street, or the stranger who may not look like us, or the child running for his life.

That gets me up every morning eager to fight for for my son’s future. That renews my belief that our freedom to worship in this country is a cornerstone of its greatness. That makes me proud to serve our country, whenever and wherever that may be. And that fills me with hope.

TL;DR there is hope for our faith and for our country. And no, I didn’t make a Star Wars joke.