Lukewarm in a Burning World? - Reformed Journal

As the pastor of a mid-sized congregation in middle America, I serve people who are red-blooded conservatives and those who are true-blue progressives. Some believe that we must “support our President” while others march in resistance. Some think we’re hurtling toward fascism. Others are convinced that liberals and lesbians are destroying faith, family, and future.

And every week, as I study and write a sermon, I’m mindful of trying to thread a needle that’s faithful to the text, applicable for the living of these days, and not overtly partisan.

Lately, I think I’m failing.

I assuage my guilt by noting that pew-sitters can get political hot takes everywhere. When everyone has a podcast, a Substack, or a social media presence, do they need my voice in the scrum? When the round-the-clock-outrage-industry goes full blast, does the church really need their pastor to weigh-in on the day’s controversy?

Worship offers something markedly different. I try to protect our worship space. Liturgy, confession, congregational singing, the reading of Scripture, and the celebration of the sacraments can easily be sullied by attempts to be “prophetic.” Corporate worship is a setting for the clear proclamation of the Gospel of grace in Christ Jesus. It’s a setting to listen for the voice of God and the kindling of a Kingdom imagination. An hour on Sunday morning with no screen demanding our attention feels like a fitting respite from the political noise. We engage both a sacred text and the Living Spirit. And we do so in community.

And so I do not quickly or easily speak into every political moment. I’m nuanced. Maybe muted.

Or maybe just cowardly.

Because then the headlines come.

The President calls people “garbage.” Citizens are gunned down in the streets while exercising their constitutional rights. We blow-up “drug-runners” without due process. We invade and “run” a country to control their oil. Masked militias roam our streets. The world order in place since World War II creaks and cracks. 71,000 Palestinians are killed in Gaza. The President and his ilk lie with impunity. All of the January 6 insurrectionists are pardoned. We enter into a war of presidential choice with a dozen different rationales. We’re siloed and splintered from friend and family. And on and on. You get the point.

There’s literally something every week that invites reflection and response if we are to love God and love neighbor faithfully. The Gospel calls for nothing less. Being nuanced or muted seems lukewarm, rightly spewed out.

Some churches address injustice every week. They hoist flags, post signs, and bear witness to a progressive American vision. There are also churches that avidly promote a MAGA version of Christian Nationalism. Still others avoid politics like a plague. And there are churches that are just trying to thread a needle.

I can attest that it was easier twenty years ago. You could listen to the teachings of Jesus or consider the implications of the image of God, and then from a position of privilege, recognize that competing political philosophies were, in their own ways, seeking similar ends. There were differences of opinion about public policy, taxation, national debt, immigration, and constitutional interpretation. Christ-followers were found across a wide political spectrum.

The last ten years, however, have been increasingly troubling and toxic. There is less trust, less conversation, and less common ground. Dearly loved church members, on both ends of the spectrum, have picked up their marbles and gone home.

As W.B. Yeats wrote, “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.”

Friends tell me that threading a needle today is weak and not sufficiently woke to the degradation of democracy. This is no time to keep silent. Congregational unity be damned. Holding the middle is naïve, complicit, or cowardly. And they’re not wrong. I don’t want to be silent when they come for the ICU nurses.

My guess is that I’m not alone. My guess is that there are other pastors who are trying to find their voice in this historical moment. If a congregation is politically pure, then raise a fist, fly a banner, speak up! But when your pews hold a tenuous mix? Should politically conservative congregants expect their more progressive pastor to opine on the current administration? Is that bringing the Gospel to bear on this scourge?

I don’t want to be sidelined by cowardice. I want to stand with the marginalized, the oppressed, and the brokenhearted. In the face of evil, I want to bear witness to the power of love. I want to act consistently for the sake of Creation.

So, is this a moment when consequences and community are secondary? Is this the hour to speak clearly about human rights, civil rights, constitutional rights, and biblical righteousness? No matter the cost?

After the disruptions of Covid and denominational disaffiliation, how do I help a fragile church community hold together? In the age of Trump, what is my role? If we continue to fracture, how will we mend the body when this political moment passes?

Is there even a needle still left to thread?