Building a great affirmation: 3 postelection truths every church can claim

For many folks in our congregations and our communities, the world feels out of control. The election confirmed their worst fears about the division and direction of the country.

They feel more anxious about the future and more suspicious of their neighbors. Decisions of global importance are being made on a daily basis, and people need their spiritual communities to provide guidance on how to live in “such a time as this.”

Pastors need guidance too, but many of us are unsure what to say. We attempt various strategies: ignore politics, stick to the lectionary, offer vague prayers, make bold statements and so on.

As a local church pastor, I feel this deeply. In the church I pastor, I have folks who are outspoken progressives, some who are passionate Trump supporters, one couple who volunteered for Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s campaign, and one family that identifies as anarchists. How do I pastor this community?

Making space for grieving and grounding

While some faith leaders may attempt to make Sunday morning a protective bubble in which the realities of the wider world do not exist, most recognize that this is neither practical nor faithful. Instead, our spiritual communities should be places of grieving and grounding.

As for grieving, we don’t need new techniques. We only need the ancient “technologies” already built into our worship and fellowship. We keep lighting the candles and inviting the Divine Presence. We keep sending prayers and sharing joys and concerns. We keep borrowing prayers from the Psalms and lifting our laments. We keep preaching good news, eating together, passing the peace, laying on hands and releasing tears.

What about grounding? We use those same resources from our spiritual traditions. We pray and worship, listen and share, visit and invite. We speak out against injustice and call out lies. But there’s one more thing we do that I’ve been pondering lately: we repeat affirmations.

By “affirmations” I don’t mean “name it and claim it” positive confession or New Age-style positive thinking. Nor do I necessarily mean the creeds. I mean the spiritual truths about what it means to be the beloved and responsible people of God in the world. I mean that we ground ourselves in a positive center of identity and calling when negativity swirls around us (and within us).

Archbishop Oscar Romero said it well in his book “The Violence of Love”: “I don’t want to be an anti, against anybody. I simply want to be the builder of a great affirmation: the affirmation of God, who loves us and who wants to save us.”

Indeed, in a time of deconstruction, dehumanization and polarization, how can people of faith become “builder[s] of a great affirmation”? Maybe we can start by repeating three central affirmations about our identity and calling as God’s people.

Agency

First, we can affirm our agency. Each of us and all of us together retain the capacity to take action. This is our great dignity and our serious responsibility. As scholars like Walter Brueggemann and Curtis Holtzen have pointed out, Scripture imagines a God who not only is trustworthy but also risks trust in us.

We are all entrusted with some kind of call to action, no matter how small or simple it may seem. But too often we mistake reaction for action. We follow the instincts of fight or flight and miss the third way of faithfulness. So the affirmation of agency comes with the twin callings of reflection and action. We embrace the paradoxical statement from the philosopher and poet Bayo Akomolafe: “The times are urgent. We must slow down.”

In our spiritual conversations and liturgical language, let us not forget that God and political leaders are not the only ones with agency, not the only ones whose actions are shaping hearts and histories.

As pastors who lead congregations, we can fill in the blank: “No matter who is in the White House, we can still …” Or even better: “No matter who is in the White House, we will still …”

Solidarity

Second, we can affirm our solidarity. We can take our cues from the Rt. Rev. Mariann Budde by making bold requests, to God and political leaders alike, for mercy. If the bishop doesn’t appeal to you, you can align yourself with the clear call from the ancient prophet Micah: “[God] has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8 NIV).

Public policy is complex, and we can have productive and civil debates about political issues. Partisan politics has no place in the pulpit, but prophetic proclamation is essential.

There are moral imperatives that faith leaders must assert clearly, no matter who attempts to bully us (whether a parishioner or a president). The call to love God and neighbor and the call to justice, mercy and humility are great examples of those moral imperatives. They are affirmations of human solidarity.

So we refuse to dehumanize, we refuse to scapegoat, and we refuse to neglect the vulnerable. We form a circle of protection around “the least of these” that is unbroken, regardless of what party controls Congress or who occupies the White House.

So we fill in the blank again to make another affirmation: “We will not be divided by …”

Eternity

Third, we can affirm the reality of eternity. We never neglect the present moment, with its blessings and burdens; we don’t escape into “this world is not my home.” But as members of ancient spiritual traditions, we do have the means to take a long view of things. We can see our present troubles “in the light of eternity.”

The perspectives of Scripture take us up on “wings like eagles” where we see that the unjust may prosper for a time but are like grass; in “a little while” they will fade and wither away while the meek inherit the land (Psalm 37).

Gandhi also said it well: “When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it, always.”

This perspective helps us persevere into the “long obedience” of life and faith, trusting that the long arc of history bends toward justice and the “gates of hell” will not prevail against God’s church. Done well, this affirmation is spiritual grounding rather than spiritual bypassing.

The affirmation of eternity also calls us to remember the “communion of saints” who came before us. They too lived in times of great changes and challenges, but they found ways to be loving and faithful.

We too will find ways; we will discern our particular ways of being loving and faithful in these troubled times. God has been “our dwelling place from generation to generation” (Psalm 90:1 LSB); God guided the saints of old, guides us now and will guide our descendants. In our liturgy and leadership, we tell stories of the saints and gather strength from their witness.

So finally, we affirm together: “The same God who guided the saints of old is guiding us to live lovingly and faithfully by …”

The boxer Mike Tyson famously said, “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.” Indeed. In the coming months and years, the things we believe and seek to practice as faith communities will be challenged by those inside and outside our churches.

We have high hopes and good intentions; we have lovely plans, but we will undoubtedly get “punched in the mouth” (metaphorically, I hope!).

That’s where these affirmations come in. In the pain and disorientation, we may begin to forget who we are and what we are called to do. But we can return to our affirmations, as faith leaders and faith communities, and remember the deep truths of agency, solidarity and eternity.