Michael Wear shares a new story he learned recently about someone you should know.
This morning, I received an alert on my phone notifying me that Millennial Journal had named me their 2017 Millennial of the Year. The recognition is both an honor and a bit embarrassing. I have such great respect for Millennial Journal, and so to be recognized by them is touching and means a great deal. I'm the first American to receive the honor since they started naming their Millennial of the Year five years ago, and Malala was their first recipient. I do not belong in any category with Malala.
What I was most grateful for is the thoughtful article that the editors wrote, and particularly how they pulled out some of the ideas they identified from my work as contributions to our public discourse. In our work, it is sometimes difficult to tell for certain that what you intend to communicate is actually being received as you intend it to, and so it is rewarding to see some of the driving motivations of your work identified by others.
You can read the full article here.
The main purpose of this blog post, however, is to just quickly address an interesting clause in the article, in bold below:
Extremely skilled and politically adept, if he placed his ascent in the party above his faith, he would have had an easy path to positions of greater and greater power and prestige. Instead, he has chosen faithfulness.
First, again, obviously the editors are very kind and generous.
Second, this assessment is probably right--I'd be lying if I said I had not thought about some of the costs involved with the direction my work has taken. Then again, who knows!? God really does work in mysterious ways, and so often situations take turns that could not have been planned or predicted.
But here's the point I want to make:
Over the last couple of years, we've seen political circumstances drive a number of Christians take positions and make changes that do not seem to make much sense. Mark DeMoss stepped down from the board of Liberty University, a campus that bears his family's name over and over again. Beth Moore decided she had to start speaking out politically. Tim Farron, the former leader of the Liberal Democrats in the UK, stepped down from his post in party leadership because he determined it was required in order for him to fully serve both God and his neighbors. Jemar Tisby recently tweeted that he has "lost money, professional opportunities, and relationships to move into a situation where I can speak openly and authentically. It's a constant struggle but, that freedom is worth the price and I can't recommend it highly enough."
What I want to communicate (and I think they would agree, though I don't wish to speak for them) is that I certainly hope that whatever positions I've taken and whatever sacrifices I have made will have an impact on our politics and the debates of our time. I certainly hope that my efforts result in some identifiable change here on earth. I think we're called to improve the circumstances of our community and our culture as Christians.
But that was not my primary motivation. What I hope my decisions will provoke people to see, what I see when I look at someone like Beth Moore, is that whatever sacrifices are made are not really sacrifices at all. What Jesus promises to us when he said that the kingdom of God was now present among us is His security. The eternal life Jesus offers is one in which faithfulness is rational--it is just the obvious way to be. I have never met any Christian who has regretted faithfulness, and the reason for that is we worship a God who wills our good.
This is not to say that there is no pain or cost involved. Discipleship is, indeed, costly. What it means is that Jesus opens up possibilities for freedom that are closed without Him.
In Matthew 13, Jesus is helping his disciples understand these possibilities that were now available to them. He tells them: "The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field" (Matthew 13:44).
Only with Jesus can a person sell all that they have in joy. Only Jesus can make good on the kind of process that would justify such sacrifice, and He does. All of the time.
I know I have disappointed Jesus many times in my life. I know my steps have faltered. But ever since I trusted my lot with Jesus, even as I try and work towards trusting my lot with him more fully as I grow in the faith, Jesus has never disappointed me.
As some Christians engage in politics for the first time, perhaps even motivated by my book or other aspects of my work, it's good to aim to have impact. People who engage politically with no aim as to the effect of their efforts treat politics as entertainment and their neighbors' welfare too lightly.
But I hope we will all remember in politics and in life that the outcome of our efforts is not what justifies faithfulness. Faithfulness is its own justification.
In the wake of another tension-filled election for pro-life voters--one in which I, as a pro-life person, advocated for supporting a pro-choice candidate in Doug Jones--I thought it would be helpful to explore why and how a pro-life voter might choose to support a pro-choice candidate. This post is meant to be of help to both pro-life Christians and Democratic advocates and leaders who are befuddled by the notion (in the case of the latter, they are sometimes confused not just about why people are pro-life, but why they would even “waste time” reaching out to people who are pro-life in the first place).
The first point I would make is that the problem for many Americans is not that they take politics seriously, but that they take politics seriously in all the wrong ways. Voting and civic participation, like most everything else, is considered primarily as an individualistic and consumeristic enterprise, rather than a primarily social endeavor that ought to be directed toward the social welfare, not just one’s own personal good. I have extensive thoughts on this matter, and it serves as the central subject of the new afterword for Reclaiming Hope that will be published on January 8 (you can pre-order now!).
As an outflow of our individualistic and consumeristic attitudes toward politics, the moral focus of our political participation is placed primarily on politics as an expression of our identity. How this expresses itself in some pro-life voters is actually, and ironically, an equivalent of the very kind of fusion of the personal and the political that conservatives critique on the left. For the pro-life voter of this kind, a vote for a pro-choice politician is indistinguishable from support for abortion. For the pro-life voter of this kind, voting is primarily an expression of conscience.
There are several things wrong with this view of politics and political participation. First, as I argue in Reclaiming Hope, politics is a forum for loving your neighbor. A Christian’s vote should not be motivated primarily by self-expression, but by love of God and neighbor. The question a Christian should be asking as they enter the voting booth is “how can I best use my vote for the peace and prosperity of the political community in which God has placed me?” When we vote, we do not think only of what we have at stake, but what our neighbors have at stake.
Second, political choices are imperfect. Always. If the voter is morally responsible—in a way that is indistinguishable from the moral responsibility of direct action—for every vote a politician takes, how could one ever morally vote apart from making their intellect and conscience subservient to a political ideology? In what political election is there a perfect moral choice? So, you might respond, that is the answer: we should never vote! But this kind of moral reasoning reminds me of those who accused Jesus of sin because he broke the Sabbath in order to heal the sick. One can keep their hands clean while letting their heart rot.
Also, at a time when many white evangelicals are raising rhetorical support for a politics that combats racism, misogyny, xenophobia and other social ills, it is a fair question as to why their morally charged rhetoric does not lead them to the same kind of moral reasoning on those issues as it does on abortion. In other words, why does a politician's support for pro-choice policies prohibit one's support, but a politician's support for racist policies does not?
Fortunately, pro-life and conservative intellectuals themselves have provided the answer to this question by refuting themselves that voting is an act of total endorsement. In the same way that many have rightly explained that a vote for Donald Trump--who they would acknowledge ran a campaign that drew on the social, cultural and political capital of racism--did not necessarily mean that every Trump voter was racist, one can vote for a pro-choice candidate without being pro-choice themselves. The fact that pro-lifers are willing to grant this for voters who support a campaign that traffics in racism, but not those who support a pro-choice candidate is one of those unquestioned assumptions that reflects the vicious circle created by a public theology that has been infected by partisan motives and a political tribalism that has been facilitated by shallow public theology.
The way some invoke conscience in politics reflects an odd morality that puts one’s conscience at risk for supporting a candidate who opposes Roe v. Wade, but rationalizes away moral responsibility for a candidate who intentionally seeks to disenfranchise African-Americans or restrict the right of worship for Muslims or wantonly breaks up families through deportation or mass incarceration. Perhaps abortion as a political issue carries greater moral weight than these other issues—an idea some pro-lifers seem a bit too eager to accept, I have to say—but is there no confluence of evil that can affect the voting calculation of the pro-life person who believes their conscience requires them to vote for whoever the pro-life candidate happens to be? If there are only pro-choice candidates in an election, is voting itself then impermissible? As I have argued here already, to argue about which issue(s) carry enough moral weight to determine one's vote is to misunderstand the purpose and meaning of voting. The idea is not to suggest that abortion is an unworthy issue of such an emphasis, but that that the act of voting does not demand that kind of emphasis. Voting in a representative democracy is a different kind of thing.
My aim here is not to add to the moral burden of our vote. Instead, I want to promote greater grace and deference when it comes to how we vote. Politicians and advocacy groups increasingly resort to moral manipulation to raise the stakes of politics and thus drive the financial and other support they receive. If political positions are not just political positions, but the highest expression of one’s very being and morality, then we will tithe to their coffers and worship at their altar. Politics is not detached from morality or faith—they are related—but political judgments are ultimately prudential. We should have great humility in our own positions, and great humility in casting moral judgments on others’ politics. Political discourse is intrinsically one of debate, of trying to convince your fellow citizens that your ideas are worthy of being taken up by broader society, but that discourse must be leavened by the awareness that we might be wrong, that our opponent might have a moral insight that is valuable and true.
Personally, while I will get into political disagreements with fellow Christians, I try to keep from questioning their motives or their ultimate commitments. I am not perfect in this regard. I have failed at this at times, and I regret those failures. In discussions with Christians, my concerns lie not so much with their arriving at a different policy position, but if and when they introduce a break in their logical train of thought. By this I mean that sometimes I will be talking to a Christian who will say something like “God would not approve of X, but I think X is politically necessary.” I recently heard a sermon given after the Las Vegas shooting that referenced a survey in which Christians responded that while they support the use of a firearm to defend one’s property or life, they did not think God would approve of the same. This kind of thinking deserves to be interrogated, not principally for a desired political outcome, but out of desire to see one’s heart and mind more greatly conformed to the intention of their Creator.
Allow me to conclude then with a direct response to the question that I opened with: how and why would a pro-life Christian support a pro-choice politician? My answer, in short, is that a pro-life Christian would support a pro-choice politician if they believed that in spite of the candidate’s position on abortion, a vote for that candidate is the best way to intend their vote for the good of their neighbor.
Again, this is ultimately a prudential decision, and we must come to terms with the fact that because it is prudential, different Christians may come to equally faithful, yet different, conclusions. There are many valid factors Christians might consider when deciding which candidate will better serve the good of their neighbor, but let me briefly raise two.
First, one’s vote can, and perhaps should be, mediated through the experiences and passions God has given them. So, as an example, I believe it is reasonable for a voter whose career is focused on combatting international poverty, for instance, to provide additional weight to a candidate’s position on policies that affect international poverty. Personally, civil rights, particularly for African-Americans, has been a driving motivation for my life for reasons rooted in my faith and my personal affections and experiences. I believe and understand human dignity to be implicated in a wide range of policies, but racial injustice is an area where I put additional weight. I am personally convicted in this regard, and believe my reasons are compelling, but I try not to make my prioritization of this sacrosanct even while I argue for the validity of my positions in a political context. My support for a pro-family agenda is rooted in ideas about human flourishing, but I also understand my passion for these policies is driven both by the prioritization of family in my Italian cultural heritage, as well as the brokenness in my immediate family’s history. I am pro-life because I believe it is an issue of human dignity, but my personal experience as an adoptee plays a role in the nature and priority of my position on the issue as well. The fact that Christian’s political priorities are filtered through their experience is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, I believe that God wishes to use our diversity in experiences to strengthen his church, enrich our public discourse and soften our hearts. We can allow others’ passions and experiences to shape and motivate our politics as well!
The second factor I will raise here is that a Christian might choose to vote differently when given the same or a similar choice of candidates based on their reading of the times and what God is doing in the world. What is the principle challenge of our time? Who is in power? Who is particularly vulnerable? A Christian might vote differently in a time of war than a time of peace. A Christian might vote one way if a certain issue is particularly salient, and a different way if another issue is particularly salient.
To move from the abstract to the topic at hand, while making clear that I deeply disagreed with Doug Jones’ position on abortion, I advocated for supporting him with a vote because of my view on what was most salient in the campaign; my understanding of the levers available to a Senator to influence abortion policy relative to the president; the broader political context (namely, that Donald Trump is in The White House); the egregious misuse of faith and Christian rhetoric by Roy Moore; Moore’s deeply questionable moral character and the existence of deeply disturbing criminal allegations of sexual assault; Moore’s explicit, disturbing record of both rhetoric and policy approaches that undermine the dignity of African-Americans and Muslims, in particular, among several other prudential considerations.
Finally, I do want to just address the idea that was advanced in recent weeks for Alabama Christians to either not vote or write-in a candidate. I was relatively forceful in my rejection of such an approach, but I hope it was clear then--and I want to make it clear now--that this was a prudential argument. My justification for making this argument in this election, when I did not make such an argument in the 2016 presidential election, for instance, was a conviction that the danger of having Roy Moore in the Senate justified not just a refusal to support him, but the use of one’s vote to maximize its power to ensure he did not become Senator—which was a vote for Doug Jones. I can understand, intellectually, the possibility that some voters looked at the candidates, and believed the allegations of sexual assault against Moore and Jones’ seemingly flippant yet strident pro-choice stance were equally disqualifying. And yet, I would argue, again, that this is not the best way to think about voting.
I had a conversation with one voter recently who told me that his conscience would not allow him to vote for Jones or Moore. I asked if he truly thought there was no difference between Moore and Jones in how well they would serve Alabama, and if Alabamans truly had as much to lose with Jones as they would with Moore? He replied that no, he was relatively certain that Jones would serve Alabama better than Moore, but that did not change the fact that his conscience would not allow him to vote for either candidate.
Because of the vote tally, and because Jones won voters who held this rationale are actually in a great position. They protected their conscience, and they are not to blame for Moore winning. Jones won. Even more, Jones won by a margin of victory that is exceeded by the number of write-in votes, potentially indicating that conservatives who could vote for neither candidate played a pivotal role in Jones’ victory. But what if Moore had won? What would have been the culpability of those who knew Jones would better serve his neighbors, but chose to prioritize following their conscience, as they understood it, instead?
I added the qualifier “as he understood it,” because I would argue that this kind of argument actually relies on an ignorant God. God has numbered the hairs on our heads, and yet we act as if our hearts are hidden to God in the voting booth. Jesus understands our politics. Really. To argue that you can vote for a flawed candidate if you judge that they will better serve your neighbors is not to make an argument for relativism. It is to acknowledge that politics is, inherently, relative. It is the very nature of our system of government, which is at least as comprehensible to God as it is to us, that our choices are not entirely our own, but shaped by our fellow citizens. Sometimes, the choice that is offered will truly leave us with no option but to sit out an election, or “throw away” our vote as a statement of holy discontent with the state of things. I do not put myself forward as a perfect judge for all people of where that line is to be drawn. I feel confident that the Alabama special election was not such a case, that Doug Jones was clearly the best candidate for Alabama despite his flaws, and I am glad that he won. I am grateful for the 26% of pro-life voters in Alabama who made the same judgment. I hope that Senator Doug Jones remembers that the coalition that elected him was not thoroughly pro-choice, and that he represents a state with millions of pro-life constituents.
I have discussed humility, and I want to return to it here only to add that it does not require a lack of conviction to have a healthy dose of humility. I suggested humility is important above mainly because we “might be wrong,” but I can imagine someone responding that they know they are right about this: abortion is wrong. However, humility does not require a lack of conviction. In addition to the concern that one might be wrong on the substance, we should also have humility because we may be wrong on the strategy. While I share a conviction with pro-lifers on the issue of abortion, I am humbled by the fact that so many seem to look at this issue of voting in a different way than I do. Maybe they are right?
On the other hand, maybe they are wrong? Politics provides a history of unintended consequences. The reason why we have to consider the moral burden of our politics differently, is because if we do not, we are just as responsible for political outcomes as we are for our personal political actions. Let me again return to the Roy Moore race as a concrete example. Some pro-life advocates were making the case that it was every pro-lifers responsibility to vote for Roy Moore because he would cast pro-life votes and advocate for the pro-life position. They made the same case for Donald Trump. It was even suggested that there was a “special place in hell” for Christians who did not support Moore. This argument was sometimes made with explicit disregard for the act of voting for Roy Moore (“this is not about Roy Moore,” they would say, “this is about ensuring the pro-life cause advances in the Senate”).
Thankfully—in my view—because Doug Jones won, we will never find out what Roy Moore would have done in the Senate. But if there is, in fact, a special place in hell for people who did not support Roy Moore (by the way, there’s not), we should consider a hypothetical: what would the moral responsibility of pro-lifers who support a pro-life candidate be if that candidate ended up harming the pro-life cause? There is a very good argument to make that Roy Moore, for instance, would have harmed the Republican brand so profoundly if he had been elected to the Senate that it would have been a drag on other pro-life candidates in the 2018 mid-terms. If there was a special place in hell for people who do not take the right position in an election (reminder: there’s not), would those who supported Roy Moore find themselves a spot in it if their vote ended up harming the pro-life cause? Many pieces of legislation are found to have negative consequences or even exacerbate the problem they were intended to correct after the law has been enacted. The 1994 crime bill looks much different today to many of the people who supported it. What if defunding Planned Parenthood resulted in a drastic increase in the abortion rate? Would they find themselves in hell too? I could imagine some liberal friends saying “yes,” which should indicate to us once again the danger of putting such great moral authority into prudential political decision-making. It has become habitual to us to take God's name in vain in order to advance our personal politics.
There is so much I have not discussed here, and I know that what is I have covered insufficiently. You might have noticed I have not raised the actual issue of abortion at length. I have discussed neither the difference between opposing the legality of abortion and actually reducing abortion—the misdirecting wordplay that those who only want to do the latter are often guilty of or the deep incoherence of those who take the position of opposing the legality of abortion but seem to care little for what would reduce abortion in the meantime. I have not shared that the abortion rate is now the lowest it has been since Roe v. Wade, and explored what it might mean for pro-lifers that this happened under a Democratic president. These are all important issues, and people like Charles Camosy have contributed great thoughts on them, but they are not the focus of this argument.
To summarize: I have responded here to the question “Can a pro-life Christian support a pro-choice candidate?” not by exploring the moral weight of abortion (which I think is great), but of urging a correction of how we think about voting. Our vote is not just, or even primarily, an individualistic act of self-expression, but an act of neighbor love. You can think, as I do, that the pro-life stance is one that is motivated by love of neighbor. This can and should play a role in your vote. Yet, a pro-life Christian who believes their stance is an act of neighbor love, might also be motivated in the voting booth to support a pro-choice candidate because given the choice presented to them, that vote is the option available to them that best advances their reasoned intent to love their neighbor well through their politics in the circumstances of that historical moment. This would have been my decision had I voted in Alabama this past Tuesday.
These are serious issues, and I offer my thoughts humbly with an open invitation to test and challenge these ideas. But let’s be wary of those who pretend the future we hope for can be realized if only our politics was more dogmatic, who wish to load onto politics the expectation that we might perfectly express ourselves through it, and instead consider politics as a penultimate forum where we can love our neighbors, pursuing justice where we can, until the God of justice comes in His perfect glory to set all wrongs to right.
Note from Michael: This post has been edited for clarity.
It is four in the morning, and I have kept watch. I have kept watch after another day of disappointment and grief over sin of which has nothing to do with me and everything to do with me.
It has been a difficult year. The Christian witness in this country has been undermined from within and without. People who have never cared what Christians have to say are now eager to condemn our silence and malpractice. People who speak the loudest for Christians bring condemnation unto us.
It has been a long year. It has seemed like a century, and this young century feels longer still.
It is a long wait for Jesus. It feels as though evil is pursuing new ways to extend our experience of time, knowing that the kingdom is at hand, closer in this moment than the last.
I do not think what we’re doing is sustainable.
I am moved this morning to write to you, dear sisters and brothers, who feel as though this church is not yours: What we are doing is not sustainable.
We have spent years railing against false teachers and false doctrine. We have spent years as outsiders waiting and pushing for a time of correction. We have seen the wrong leaders with megaphones, and we have sought to shout them down, to turn the tide, to claim the ground for truth. There is a franticness that has no recourse but cynicism. A striving that has no end but disappointment.
We keep waiting for the future, for our future.
But while we feel as though we are looking toward the future, and while our activity is consumed with the present, I am convinced that in reality we are stuck in the past. I think God is way ahead of where we are right now. The present is the past.
So many of you are waiting for your turn, when we need to realize our turn is now. It’s happening right now. We feel like outsiders, but the ones we protest are running on fumes. They have made their decisions, and they have their reward. What are we building?
Let me be explicit: The hucksters do not represent Christ.
Let me be even more explicit: Roy Moore does not represent Christ.
And we need to stop treating them as if they do. We keep waiting for some magical moment when they will be unequivocally, ceremoniously dethroned while their throne rests on our backs. We say we’re queasy about identifying as evangelicals, or as Christians even, while they claim the same title, but our queasiness is ceding the territory to the very ideas we oppose.
So much has been building up in me over the last decade, as I’ve seen faith and politics and culture all intermingle from a number of different perspectives and positions. I’ve become more firmly convicted in all of this over just the last couple of years through individual and corporate prayer, discernment and analysis. But I felt it rush to me now when I saw this from Tyler Burns.
This is my conviction this morning:
Christianity belongs to no man. The church belongs to no man. It all belongs to Jesus. Some may have forgotten this, but let us never forget. Let us never forget that the way this world counts power and influence means nothing to our God. He will settle all accounts, we can be sure of that. This year, the story we have allowed to be told about us is what we are in reaction to the hucksters and the charlatans, but all the while we have been seeking to live a different story: who are we in relation to Christ? What are we building?
We have built so much this year as we live out our callings, as we pursue Jesus who is the standard-bearer of our faith.
I see what Jemar Tisby and Tyler Burns are building: a bold, Christ-centered Witness that is neither ashamed of the gospel, nor timid in the face of injustice.
I see what Michelle Higgins, Christina Edmondson and Ekemini Uwan are building as they generate new power through their work that is redirecting stagnant waters, and carving out new territory for Christ to work His will.
I see what Ann Voskamp is building as she stewards her influence to raise money for a radical, Preemptive Love. I saw her on a cold February morning protesting outside of a hotel where political leaders would gather to publicly pray while denying welcome to the stranger.
I see Sharon Hodde Miller and Tish Harrison Warren and Alan Noble and Duke Kwon and Scott Sauls and Sarah TheBarge and Ray Chang and Sho Baraka and Laura Turner and Trillia Newbell and Beth Moore and Charlie Dates and Wesley Hill and Matthew Loftus and Sarah Bessey and Russell Moore and Justin Giboney and on and on and on.
I see young Christians in politics who want to build their careers by faithfulness, not utilitarian power-grabbing.
I see seminary students who are pursuing sound doctrine and sound practice, who believe the gospel is for all of life and will preach a gospel that changes everything.
I see young Christians in “secular” fields who are neither arrogant because of their faith nor ashamed of it, but believe in living a life of integrated integrity in light of the security they find in Christ.
I see COGICs and Catholics and Baptists and Quakers and Anglicans and Presbyterians—Christians pursuing God rooted in many different expressions—all like streams of living water, nourishing the ground for a new harvest.
I do not name people here as exceptions—that is to miss the very point. I would encourage you to share the stories of brothers and sisters you see that are building, but this is most useful when it points to the One they’re building for. That you or I know or recognize someone does not vindicate their work. What a gift it is to be introduced to someone new! This, of course, requires that they were unknown to us prior to that very moment. And there are many who labor in obscurity who are no less integral to the body.
We act as if we must wrest control of the witness of the church from those who are getting the attention, but the work of the church belongs to Jesus and all that does not belong to Him stands no chance against Him.
The main challenge that faces us is not the hucksters, but ourselves. Our own sin. Our own pride. Our own specific tastes. Can we root each other on even in our diversity? Can we support one another though there may be areas where we disagree? The main challenge we face in our accentuated diversity is the recognition that we are all part of one body in Christ. What weapon formed against us will prosper if we grab hold of that truth, if that love for Christ and one another is embedded in our hearts?
I do not recognize the name on the hucksters’ lips, this name they use of obfuscation and self-protection, this alibi for sin and degradation, this tactic for maintaining self-serving power. They are running on fumes. I do not recognize the name on their lips.
We must condemn what must be condemned. We must repent for what requires repentance. But we must not spend our present days in reaction to their transparent distortions. The world has done a fine job recognizing those things. Is our primary task to point to them?
Of course not.
Let us proclaim Christ in our time, now. We do not need to wait for more influence, we can build right now. We are building. We have built.
While we have breath in our lungs, let us point to Jesus. Christian leaders, even the best of them, have never been worth anyone’s ultimate trust, devotion or faith. There is only One who is always faithful. He is ever worthy to be praised.