Let Intercessions Be Made

A Political Rule of Life

(I wrote this essay before Joe Biden left the race for President. That’s a huge news story—and I’m not really dealing with it here, in case you’re hoping I will.)

The Sunday morning after the assassination attempt on President Trump’s life, I was glad when one of our elders, Dave Dupee, stood behind the podium and called us to pray together as a congregation. It was a reminder that of the few explicit commands we have in Scripture regarding our political responsibilities, prayer is one: “I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way,” (1 Tim. 2:1, 2). Dave’s prayer beautifully expressed a distinctly Christian posture in a heated and hostile political climate, and I asked him if I could share it with you. Gratefully, he said yes.

Lord,

We come this morning reminded afresh of the fragility of our world, and how
in the course of history, single events of tragedy or violence can greatly influence
the course of a nation.

Lord, we bring our shock, not that it could happen, but that it did happen—yesterday, with the loss of life, injuries, and a nearly successful assassination.

And we bring our mourning—mourning for what this says about the state of our
country and our desperate need for a rebirth of the common good.   And we bring our fears—that this could happen again.

Lord, be with those families who have suffered loss.  Surround them with your comfort and the comfort of friends, family and their communities.

We pray for protection during this election year:
    —protection for our presidential candidates
    —that during oral and written debates and the rapidly escalating news cycles, may they include sober self-examination

And we pray that you will bring good from this.  Bring forth strong, influential voices, who will not shy from speaking truth, but will also be able to build bridges, rather than their own constituencies. Lord, would you protect and preserve what is
best about this country?  May its nobility of vision be proven in the days and weeks
ahead.

We come to you, our certain anchor and refuge in good times and bad.  May we know that, “Your delight is not in the strength of a horse, nor your pleasure in the legs of a man, but the Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in his steadfast love,” (Ps. 147:10-11).

Amen.

To be sure, this is a prayer that is distinctly political, that recognizes politics is not a dirty word. Politics is one way we cultivate our common life. It is a necessary form of “civic housekeeping,” which is language I’ve borrowed from Laura Fabrycky’s Keys to Bonhoeffer’s Haus). Without political functioning, we can’t pass budgets, make and defend laws, guarantee safety, negotiate treaties, build roads.

But notice, too, that while this is a political prayer, this is a prayer that shies from partisanship. There aren’t good guys and bad guys in this prayer. There certainly is no messianic hope in anyone other than Jesus Christ.

What I found most beautiful about it was the tone of lament it struck, which seems to be lacking in so much of our discourse. I hear outrage. I hear blame. I hear what-about-ism, but I too rarely hear—even from public Christians—the kind of lament we read in the psalms. There, we hear a naming of the world’s great disrepair and a pleading for God—the only just and righteous Judge—to intervene. It’s to say that lament demonstrates faith, not in our political systems and parties but in another Hero of the world’s redemption story.

I decided last Sunday morning that I will mistrust any voice that did not strike this tone in our current election cycle. In fact, I came home, continued reading Scripture each morning, and began to decide on a political rule of rule. To be clear, this rule is not a product of months-long searching and study. Rather, it’s the first draft of some “pre-commitments” in this moment of American history where politics—not the gospel—has tragically become the new orthodoxy. Remember that adaptability is part of the beauty of a rule. It isn’t written once and set under glass. Rather, it’s subject to further reflection, further revision as we pray, mature, even as the givens of our lives shift and change. Thanks to many of you who added your own thoughts and ideas on Substack, when I asked what you’d include in your own political rule, and I’d encourage further discussion in the comments.

Without further ado, here goes.

1.     I will pray for persecuted Christians and for governments—globally—to promote freedom of worship.

2.     I will pray for local, state, and national political leaders as well as candidates for political office. I will pray they love good and despise evil, lead and endeavor to lead wisely and well. I will pray they understand their authority as God-given and subject to divine judgment. Because I am a citizen of two countries, I will pray both for the United States and Canada.

3.     I will reject binaries of good guys and bad guys, good political parties and bad political parties. I will remember that human government, even at its most earnest, is flawed and limited, failing the perfect justice and righteousness of Jesus Christ the King.

4.     I will reject political conversation, private or public, and any form of media that entices me to a superior sense of personal righteousness and the unimpeachable righteousness of the political candidates I support.

5.     I will accept political disagreement in our democratic system. I will not be personally threatened when someone opposes my judgements and opinions, though neither will I shy from expressing those judgements and opinions when it is appropriate. I will seek to be wise and well-informed, and I will follow the true, good and beautiful rule of Scripture laid out for human speech, which is to say I will eagerly listen, hesitantly speak, and remember that the anger of human beings has nothing to do with the righteous ends of God. I will enter political conversation with the desire to learn, not shout.

6.     I will not prioritize fears for the fate of my nation over participation for the flourishing of my neighbor. When I am tempted toward an unhealthy, imbalanced preoccupation with the election news cycle, I will remember my call to love my enemy, my brothers and sisters in Christ, and my most vulnerable neighbors.  

7.     I will not accept buzz words at face value. Instead, I will grow more intensely curious when I hear words like: woke, evangelical, far-right, far-left, Christian nationalist, Marxist, racist, misogynist, justice, freedom, threat, migrant/refugee/immigrant, patriot, religious liberty, conspiracy. I will seek care and precision in my words because language is a gift endowed by a God who speaks with care and works his will through words.

8.     I will reject any political opportunism that preys on the longings and fears of people of faith. When I hear political speech that rings of idolatry and misplaced hopes, I will name it as such and despise it as a threat to the gospel, which teaches us to trust in one name alone, the name of Jesus Christ (Acts 4:12).

9.     I will reject any call to political violence. I will remember my call to make peace (Matt. 5:9).

10.  When I fail these commitments and estrange myself from others, I will seek to quickly and humbly apologize. I will own my responsibilities for the disrepair of our political moment, and I will remember that community requires confession and forgiveness. In those moments when my need for mercy becomes clear, I will thank God in Christ who has been merciful to me and welcomed me home. I will look to receive his gracious hospitality and return it to the world.