politics

I have been thinking a lot about politics lately. About the election, about public policy, about the role of nonprofits and of the church.

This week Barak Obama was in Grand Rapids. I rode my bicycle down to the arena and got in a very long line three hours before he was to speak. I observed people standing in line. Some were buying Obama tshirts and pins. Some were signing petitions to put stem cell research back on the ballot in Michigan. Some were chatting. I was by myself and not buying or signing anything; I just stood there and read my book. I got into the arena two hours before he was to speak. I saved a few seats for some friends that were coming later. I watched the arena fill with people. I thought about how the last time I was inside the arena I was graduating from college. Now, five months later, I was feeling almost the same way I felt on the day I graduated. I was feeling a bit like “life is changing and I do not really know what the future holds”.

My friend Dave found me and sat down. We watched people together. I saw my friends Bryan and Scott and they asked me why I was there. Bryan looked at me in all his sarcastic seriousness and mentioned the possibility of a terrorist attack. I told him that he was ridiculous. But sometimes people do want to kill presidents and people trying to become them. So when I sat back down in my seat, I of course instantly noticed a very well dressed Arab man sitting in the front row of the section next to mine. I would have thought nothing of this except for the fact that Bryan had just made me think of terrorist attacks combined with the fact that this man was busily typing away on a laptop computer, talking on his cell phone, glancing around a lot, and really not paying any attention to the introductory speech or the promotional videos that were being played while we all waited. I thought to myself, “I do not want to die here today. I do not want to die for Obama.” I thought of what my parents would think if I died because I had skipped the prayer meeting I was supposed to go to see Obama speak.

My friend Katie came and took the empty seat on the other side of me. I was still thinking in the back of my mind that I was going to die here. I thought of all the things in my life that were not in order and all of the terrible things that people would find out about me when they went through my stuff and read my journals.

People in the arena were in high spirits, but getting antsy. The wave broke out. It was actually the best wave I had ever been a part of. Near full participation. I glanced down at the man in the front row to see if he was doing the wave. He was not standing or waving his arms, but I noticed a slight smile on his face. And I decided that he was not a terrorist. A few minutes later I noticed the same look on his face as he watched the small children running around on the floor in front of us. The kids were loving the space to run and the thousands of eyes all around the arena that were watching them like they were very tiny celebrities. I decided that surely he was not a terrorist.

And obviously I lived to tell the story. Even if it is a story that I hate to tell because I want never to be that person; I never want to be guilty of racial profiling or stereotyping.

So I listened to John Edwards and Barak Obama give their speeches. They each talked about the wonders of the Democratic Party and about how it can make the United States, and even the world, a better place. I clapped when I was moved to clapping. Like when they talked about everyone having healthcare and all children having equal opportunities for education. I looked around and saw people with these looks of absolute adoration on their faces. I saw other people sleeping.

A few evenings later some friends stopped over to smoke the hookah. I was feeling aggravated and well, truculent, so I asked these friends what they thought of Barak Obama. I knew that I was picking a fight and I wanted one. In most ways I was so blown away by their responses that I could not even fight back. A very dear friend stopped over on her way home from a very difficult evening and I stepped back from political conversation to listen to her instead. I could hear the guys in the other room, feeding off of each other and only getting stronger in their convictions. I felt weak and defenseless and liberal in the worst way when I went back into the room and I changed the topic of conversation.

My friend Jonathan bought me an iced soy latte on Saturday. Yum. I told him about the lack of direction I feel in my life. He told me to read Psalm 143, which I did later on in the evening, during worship at the Prayer House. Now, I did not really want to be at worship that nite. I had planned all day on going to visit someone our community knows and loves, who is currently in jail. Some plans fell through and I was not able to go. I thought, “Jesus tells us to visit him in prison, how can I possibly sit here and worship him when I have failed to make it to the prison to see him”. Turns out that Jesus likes us to sit and worship him too, but regardless, I did not want to be there that nite. So I looked up Psalm 143. I repeated the phrase “show me the way I should go”. I started thinking about the election, about politics, about how I was probably the most liberal person in the room and about how I felt ostracized for it. (The ostracism was, of course, all in my head, since I do not have my political views tattooed on my forehead or written on my sleeve.) Regardless, I was thinking. My eyes traveled across the pages of my well worn Bible to Psalm 146, specifically where the Psalmist says “do not put your trust in princes, in mortal men, who cannot save”. I thought of the people at the Obama rally who were looking towards this man with faces of adoration, of obsession, of trust. I got scared. The Psalmist goes on to say that it is the LORD who upholds the cause of the oppressed, it is the LORD who gives food to the hungry, who sets prisoners free, gives sight to the blind, uplifts and loves. The Psalmist wrote that it is the LORD’s responsibility to watch over the life of the alien and to sustain the fatherless and the widow.

I remember the day that I realized that I was not a Republican. I remember the way I felt when I considered all of the things that Christians should be doing for the earth and for the poor and the hungry and the old and the sick no matter how undeserving those people may be and when I realized that the Republican Party has failed. I once heard someone say that the local church is the hope of the world. That both inspired me and made me very afraid for the future of the world. I decided that day that because the Republican Party failed and because the church was failing that I would secretly be a Democrat. I told myself and a few select people that I did not want to be a Democrat and that I did not think the government should have to do the job for the poor or for the environment but that I had to be one because the church and the Republicans were doing a terrible job of it all. I blamed the church and I put my trust in mortal men.

Well, I have decided to put my hope back in the LORD. I believe that He really can be trusted to uphold the cause of the oppressed and eliminate hunger and free prisoners and care for immigrants and orphans and widows and to do everything else that he has promised to do. This, in the most beautiful and terrifying way, does make the church the hope of the world. We, the church, really are the hands and feet of Jesus on this earth. If we can trust God to do what he has said and if He can trust us to let Him use our flesh to do so, then just imagine what our communities could look like. Imagine if local churches took the responsibility in each of their own neighborhoods, to put food on every table, to house all of the homeless, to take in the orphans and the old, to adopt all the unwanted babies and to pay for people to get the medical help they need, to clean up trash and plant gardens and love creation.

I do not know who I will vote for in November. All I know is that my hope cannot rest in ANY politician or any “mortal man” (or woman, of course.) I know that it is important to be informed and to vote and I know that putting our trust in God means more than trusting him to put the right people in power, it means trusting him to enable his church to do the dirty work of redeeming this world. I trust Him to enable me to get my hands and my feet dirty in the process.