Rethinking Power: Epilog—Where Do We Go From Here?
A conservative held the board in place while a progressive hammered the nail.
That may not sound particularly remarkable. Except that these two were politicians—and they were part of a group of Republicans and Democrats who had decided to spend a day building a house together.
It’s rare to hear a story like that anymore.
A Democratic politician in Indiana, Don Byrd, heard about a Republican candidate who was screamed at during a community event and thought to himself, “The temperature of political dialogue around here is way too high. What can I do to bring people together?”
As volunteers for Braver Angels, he and his wife recruited a team of elected officials—seven Republicans and four Democrats—to construct a house for first-time homeowners. The politicians represented Bloomington, where there are no elected Republicans, and the surrounding rural areas, which are solidly Republican.
They overcame significant logistical and scheduling challenges to make it happen.“ We weren’t going to let it fail. It was too important,” said Hal Turner, a Republican volunteer for Braver Angels.
They laid aside disagreements about immigration, taxes, abortion, guns, and MAGA, and instead asked one question: “What do we have in common?”
In this case, the answer was helping a family get their first home.
What changes when the person you’ve thought was your political enemy is standing beside you building a home for someone neither of you knows?
Earlier in this series I raised a question I’ve heard Christians ask: “What happened to my country?”
There’s nostalgia behind that question. America seemed more Christian. Prayer was more common. Churches had influence. The culture reflected our values.
But what if we’re nostalgic for the wrong things? What if we long for a political climate in which public servants truly served—genuinely cared about the common good?
Maybe there are things worth recovering from our past—but not simply the things we usually mean when we talk about returning to a more “Christian America.”
What if we became nostalgic for cooperation? For compromise? For politicians who could disagree fiercely in the morning and work together in the afternoon? For the belief that our neighbors were fellow citizens rather than enemies to be defeated?
Think about some of the landmark pieces of legislation that were the result of politicians laying aside differences and working together:
Civil Rights Act of 1964 / Voting Rights Act of 1965 — extraordinarily contentious, but ultimately required a remarkable interracial, interfaith, and bipartisan coalition.
Interstate Highway System — Eisenhower and a Democratic Congress undertaking an enormous national project.
Americans with Disabilities Act (1990) — passed with overwhelming bipartisan support and signed by Republican President George H. W. Bush.
Clean Air Act / EPA era — major environmental action under President Nixon with strong bipartisan congressional support.
National parks/conservation — crossed ideological lines at important moments.
Can we dream together?
What might it look like if Jesus’ prayer really began shaping how Christians practiced citizenship? Not a Christian government—not Christians controlling the government, but Christians actually praying—and living—
“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
What would it look like if Christians became known as the people who lowered the temperature in a room rather than raised it? What if churches became places where people learned the difficult art of disagreeing without despising? What if Christians became the people most difficult to manipulate through fear?
What might happen?
Before I run the risk of casting blame, I want to pause and honestly ask myself some questions:
Have I stood by too long rather than participating responsibly in the political process?
Have I formed strong opinions about issues that I haven’t taken the time to understand?
Have I allowed myself to live inside a news silo that mostly confirms what I already believe?
Have I supported politicians who gain power by humiliating, frightening, or demonizing people?
At various times I could answer yes to each of these questions. So I call myself out before I try to call any of us out, and before I suggest some things that I can do—and that perhaps you can do, as well—to stem the tide.
Listen outside your tribe. Find someone whose political beliefs are substantially different from yours. Don’t debate them. Ask how they came to believe what they believe.
Braver Angels has a program called Walk a Mile in My News that encourages folks from opposite sides of the political aisle to come together to ask: “What do you read or watch that helps you understand what’s happening?” Then actually consume some of it.
Break the news silo. What if we were to take real steps to deliberately broaden our information diet? Use a high-quality straight-news source and periodically read thoughtful sources from outside your normal ideological neighborhood.
Reward bridge-building. When evaluating a candidate, don’t ask only whether they agree with you. Ask: Have they demonstrated an ability to work with people who don’t?
Stop rewarding contempt. Don’t share the humiliating meme. Don’t cheer the cruel nickname. Don’t excuse dehumanizing language because your side used it. And support candidates who refuse to do the same.
Demand more. Let elected officials know that compromise isn’t necessarily betrayal and that you actually want them to solve problems with people across the aisle.
Build something together. This brings us right back to Habitat for Humanity. Find one local problem where ideology doesn’t have to be the starting point.
A hungry family. A struggling school. A park that needs cleaning. A refugee who needs help navigating a new city. A Habitat house that needs building.
And find somebody different from you to do it with.
What would happen if we lived out Jesus’ prayer: “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven”? I don’t know what would happen.
I don’t imagine we’d suddenly agree about everything. We wouldn’t eliminate political parties or ideological differences. And bringing heaven to earth certainly doesn’t mean creating a Christian government.
But I wonder. What if a few of us started living as though the people around us really were our neighbors?
What if we listened before speaking? What if we sought truth even when it cost our side something? What if we stopped rewarding people for making us afraid of one another? What if we found something broken—and, together, started rebuilding it?
Maybe that’s too small. Then again, the Kingdom Jesus described had a curious tendency to begin with small things. A mustard seed. A little yeast. A few fishermen.
Maybe even two political opponents building a house together.
If these conversations help you think more deeply about faith and citizenship, I’d love to have you join me each Friday. Click here to subscribe.
Comments