Last night, we stopped pretending
This election is turning into a disaster for America. What about the church?
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I happen to be writing about political anxiety for my next book, Nervous Systems, on the week of Biden/Trump’s first 2024 debate. In the chapter, I essentially argue that the best way through political anxiety is to become a non-anxious presence. Last night while watching the debate, I had a chance to practice in real life what I’m working through on paper.
I watched an hour of the debate before leaving my screen to attend an already-scheduled BBQ with our community group, and it was a welcome respite. Reading social media reactions and op-eds about Biden’s poor performance before bed brought a fresh wave of anxiety. I too wondered about calls for him to step down, an option I’ve held in the back of my mind since Ezra Klein pitched it on his podcast last February.
Up until yesterday, part of me thought the fever would subside, and enough voters would not be able to stomach the hypocrisy and lies of Trump that he would lose the election this fall. That the massive number of people polling for Trump would wake up from what feels like an alternative reality and come to their senses on the ballot. I believed this to protect an impending sense of doom. Last night I stopped pretending.
The debate made it clear that there is no responsible choice. Who do you give the keys to the leading economy of the world when both candidates are fatally flawed?
I consider myself an independent voter, one who has voted for Democrats since Obama because their policies, in ideal form, work to protect the poor and oppressed. I would gladly vote for a candidate from any party who best aligns with values of democracy and human flourishing. No candidate will ever perfectly fit this bill, and it’s been most in step with my values as a Christian to vote for the candidate that best aligns with kingdom ethics of justice. That means I will never vote for Donald John Trump.
Political Anxiety
I’ve been researching political anxiety while I experience it in real-time. Political anxiety is not an official diagnosis in the DSM, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, but it is an anecdotal diagnosis. “Political anxiety is a term used to describe the recent increase in anxiety many people, regardless of party or political affiliation, are experiencing in the wake of the 2016 presidential election and the current political climate in the United States. Also referred to as postelection stress, political anxiety is … a term that can be used in times of a stressful or divided political climate to reflect the reactions resulting from this turmoil.”1
We’re all anxious about politics, whether we tend to use words like “woke” and “coastal elite” or “rioter” and “alt-right” to describe the opposite party. A survey from the American Psychological Association found that “more than two-thirds of U.S. adults (68%) say that the 2020 U.S. presidential election is a significant source of stress in their life” across political affiliation. The percentage jumped 16% from the 2016 election.2
Anxiety casts a net into the future, as we mull over and catastrophize. The debate last night was disastrous for Biden. Whether or not he will step down remains unseen. The election’s outcome is unclear, let alone any backlash pending who is the victor. There may be violence or deep apathy depending on ballot outcomes this November. There is only so much anticipatory grief we can take.
Where We Go From Here
I watch political news like some people read the sports section. I’m into politics; I’m mildly wonky. And it is becoming clear, even to folks like me, or especially to folks like me, that we need to de-prioritize politics and prioritize loving and serving the people in our local sphere. To appreciate the small things in our own lives. We need to right-size and realize what we can and can’t control.
It feels a bit like losing an identity marker, letting go of the grip of politics. If I’m honest, to be politically literate, “up on” breaking news, signals a certain bent I crave toward being perceived as relevant, as being a global citizen. That’s not inherently bad, of course. But as a Christian, I’m called to first be defined by Christ, and that’s not how I’ve been living this election cycle. I’m not going to stop reading broadly or forming political options. But I’m being challenged to recalibrate a part of my identity that is sparking anxiety instead of service.
I do find solace in America’s broken politics when I think about the church. Because I believe that we can take hope while minimizing the position of politics in our lives. If “the worst” happens, whatever that looks like, there are still other important things to cling to. People will write songs, make dinner, take road trips. We can continue to care for our community and engage in local issues, working to support people who are unhoused, refugees, migrants, and others who may become even more vulnerable if Trump wins the election.
Christians can be okay with Trump winning a second term and be non-anxious about the implications that has for the fractured world. We are free to take a posture of holy indifference and to continue to work for good, because the way of Jesus is to be okay with losing. To stay here, to keep living well, is a form of resistance that honors where God has placed us.
Red Velvet Cake
At many points in history — and in parts of the world today — people have faced life-threatening afflictions that make the mess of modern American politics look ridiculous. This is our time and place, and we can only endure if we truly believe in an eschatology that says things may well go to hell, but the church will remain. That all things will be made well. In God’s good future, all will be accounted for. We can face losing everything because we believe that in the end, nothing that is of value will be lost.
It wasn’t perfect, but instead of ruminating last night, I spent time with other people and found relief. While the second part of the debate was happening, all screens were off at my friend’s house. We all ate red velvet cake on a rainy June night and talked about one friend’s new job at a middle school, another’s prep for her OB/GYN oral board exam, and a third’s recent pilgrimage to the UK to follow in the footsteps of St. Cuthbert.
Instead of grasping for control, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if we would rest together in the presence of affliction. In the face of it. I think of the words of Jesus translated by Eugene Peterson in The Message: “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest.”
https://www.goodtherapy.org/blog/psychpedia/political-anxiety
https://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/2020/10/election-stress
US Expat now living in the UK (been here 12 years now). Literally just found you and I wanted to say how bloody refreshing it is to read a grounded, middle-of-the-road American Christian who is engaging critical thought when looking at our theology against the state of American politics. I’m excited to subscribe!
I'm so happy for your finding of peace. Welcome to the family of post political Christians. I go to this passage from the Psalms every time I feel the old anxieties of my political past start to churn:
Why are the nations so angry? Why do they waste their time with futile plans?
The kings of the earth prepare for battle; the rulers plot together against the Lord and against his anointed one. “Let us break their chains,” they cry, “and free ourselves from slavery to God.”
But the one who rules in heaven laughs. The Lord scoffs at them.
Psalm 2:1-4 - New Living Translation