Current Events, Politics

Three Lessons From Election Day

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Because I didn’t realize that my polling place operates on Central time, I had an hour to stand in line this morning and ponder the imponderables about the state of our nation, the state of Alabama, and the etiquette of pulling out a snack-sized coffee cake for breakfast when you didn’t bring enough for everyone. But while standing there, I was confronted with three small things that ex-fundamentalists can learn from the voting process. In no particular order they are…

We’re not doing it alone
Almost nothing in our lives happens in complete solitude. Fundamentalism presents the mythology that a little church or small school is out there serving God almost alone, standing against the rest of the country and the world. Yet much like an election, people and forces are involved that go far and wide beyond the simple scope of our one polling station, our one town, or our one state.

People will vote today whom we have never met and whom we would not like if we did meet them. Yet, they too have a place in this story, they too are doing the work of the political process. In much the same way there are people in the kingdom of heaven doing work in places you will never go doing work that you will never see. They matter too.

It isn’t over until it’s over

Ecclesiastes 7:8 tells us that finishing is better than starting. At the end we can see what actually happened. The results are in. The count is finished. The score is final. For better or worse we know what happened.

Unfortunately, there are many who want to tell us what they think will happens and the dozen reason why their predictions are smarter than the myriad of others. Pundits on morning shows compete with pastors in the pulpit to tell us their best guesses about the future of our country, our churches, and our families if we don’t follow their personal game plan. Fear, manipulation, and half-truths are the order of the day.

But how often are they right? The anti-Christ has not yet taken over the earth. The Russians haven’t invaded. Things aren’t over no matter which way this election goes. The end of our stories has yet to be finished and the end may still yet be much, much better than the beginning.

A one-time decision isn’t enough.
Today we go out and choose leaders. Tomorrow half the country will be somewhere in the stages of grief between anger and depression. The good news is that this isn’t the last election this country will ever have. In one or two or four years we’ll get to come back and do this again. Don’t like the results? Wait a while. This too shall pass.

But the lesson here is that at no point can we say “this is finished. We’ve made a good decision and that will be the LAST time we have to choose.” Life is a process which requires adjustments, false starts, and second guesses. No single decision made in a voting booth or an old-fashioned altar can be expected to irrevocably change your life forever. Be still. Wait a while. This too shall pass.

education

Shame

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The collegian president gestured energetically as he talked, his green polo shirt proclaiming his pride in the Pi Zeta Delta Wolverines. David was always energetic. Next year that energy for all things PCC would propel him to be the only African-American residence manager on this majority white campus.

“We’re really close to taking that Christian Service trophy this year!” he shouted, “I don’t want us to come in second place. We’re going to continue our tradition of winning!”

Cheers came from all sides of the crowded class room. I didn’t cheer. I didn’t even look up. As far as I was concerned this was a wasted hour that would be better spent studying or sleeping. But with so little sanctioned entertainment on campus a lot of students really seemed to enjoy the chance to whoop and holler and play games that resulted in someone vomiting up half a liter of warm root beer.

David continued on at full volume. “I want every guy in this room right now to raise their hand and promise to go out on Christian service this week. There are plenty of things to choose from: you can go down witnessing in Seville Square, you can do bible clubs, you can go talk to guys at the Boy’s Base…”

I groaned internally as he went on listing all the various opportunities for spending hours of your weekend out soul-winning. I was already taking eighteen credits of classes and working over twenty hours a week to pay my tuition. Even if I could spare the time, I was not at all impressed with the idea of going on one of these “ministries.” The brags heard in Saturday night hall meeting from the guys who claimed to have had double digits of people gloriously saved told me everything I needed to know about the true nature of these programs. I wanted no part of them.

Up in the front of the room David was wrapping up his plea. “Ok, guys. Raise your hands and make a promise to the Lord that you’re going to go out there and witness and help us win that trophy.”

Hands shot up all over the room. I glanced around and felt a little sick as i realized that I was the lone abstainer. In a few seconds every eye in the room was on me.

“Dow!” said David “What’s the problem, man? Make the promise so we can have 100% comittment!”

I shook my head. No. I wasn’t going to participate in a gospel charade just so he would win a trophy.

“C’mon what’s the matter?” he repeated and now grumbles were echoing from around the room.

“I’m not going to go on Christian service for a trophy or because I’m being forced into it.” I said quietly.

David seemed taken aback. “Oh, we’re not doing it for the trophy,” he said quickly. “We just want to go serve the Lord.”

I just shook my head again. It wasn’t true but there was no point arguing it.

“Oh, wait, you’re in the church choir,” he said smiling triumphantly. “We get Christian service points for that so you’re already covered.”

The angry stares aimed at my head abated and the meeting went on to the important tasks of hazing freshmen and finding somebody stupid enough to drink a glass of water that three other guys had already gargled.

My few friends in the collegian didn’t understand why I didn’t go along with the crowd that day. Peer pressure and public shaming is fine if you use it for good, after all. Two years later when I walked across the stage and received my diploma I still hadn’t been on a single Christian service outing. I hadn’t knocked on the door of a weary Presbyterian, wrangled a prayer out of neighborhood kid, or accosted a drunk on a city street. Strangely enough, I was completely at peace with that. I felt no grief at all.

If you’ve ever wondered where pastors learn their strong-arm techniques for keeping people in line, the training grounds are scenes much like this one. And that is a real shame.

History

SFL Flashback: The Founding Fathers

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This post was originally featured on SFL in June of 2009

To many fundamentalists, the Founding Fathers rank right up there with the Twelve Apostles as men to be admired and followed. Their crowning achievement was to plant this country, the Baptist States of America. This name was later changed to the “United States” by the evil left-wing Department of Education who, according to WorldNetDaily, also recently mandated that all public school children must take an oath of allegiance to Satan.

There is no doubt that the founding fathers were a pretty amazing bunch of guys. They were smart and driven, and they loved freedom. The Constitution they drafted stands as one of the most amazing documents in modern history. But while most of these founders were religious men, strangely enough not one of them was a Baptist. In fact, the plurality of them were Anglicans with a good number of Presbyterians, Congregationalists, and Quakers mixed in. One would suppose that good fundamental Baptists would be a bit perturbed by their denomination being underrepresented in the founding of the nation but somehow it never actually comes up in the sermons on God and Country Sunday.

Back when the country was founded, it was a great place. The Founding Fathers outlawed Democrats, rock music, and votes for women. The pregnancy rate for fourteen-year-old was high, but since they’d already been married for two or three years by that point it was to be expected. Everybody went to church on Sunday and most folks worked hard from sun-up to sundown doing things like selling slaves, planting tobacco, and displacing Indians from their homelands. It’s easy to see why these times would evoke nostalgia in many fundamentalists.

If fundamentalists had a process for canonizing saints, one can rest assured that the Founding Fathers would find their place enshrined in their lists, right down to the last beer-swilling, slave-owning philanderer among them.

A silly blog dedicated to Independent Fundamental Baptists, their standards, their beliefs, and their craziness.