I never publish my sermons (reading a sermon can be like watching paint dry) but this one is about the election and face it, we need all the help we can get. What I am preaching on this Sunday is bipartisan and faith-based. If you are looking for political preaching, this is the wrong place. If you want to reflect on the intersection of faith and civic responsibility then read on....
You know that moment at Thanksgiving dinner? Everything’s perfect—the turkey is just right, the stuffing perfect, everyone laughing at old stories—then someone brings up politics. Instantly, forks slow down, laughter fades, and everyone suddenly finds their cranberry sauce fascinating. We’ve all been there? When a comfortable family gathering teeters on the edge of becoming something else.
I know some of you might be thinking, "Oh great, the pastor's going political." I get talking about politics in church and it can feel uncomfortable and it should. But stay with me for a minute. I promise, I’m not here to tell you who to vote for. What I want to talk about is something bigger: how we, as followers of Christ, live out our faith in the real world—including in the voting booth. This journey is worth taking together.
Picture yourself as an early Christian. You’re not in a beautiful building like this; you’re in someone’s house—maybe a cramped, dimly lit basement. The air smells damp, and you can hear the nervous shuffling of feet. Everyone is speaking in hushed voices, knowing that soldiers could burst in at any moment. Declaring "Caesar is Lord" was a life-or-death pledge of allegiance. But these early Christians whispered something different: "Jesus is Lord." It wasn’t just a nice phrase—it was an act of rebellion. It was saying, "My ultimate loyalty is to something bigger." Imagine the courage it took to say those words, knowing it could cost you everything.
Thankfully, we won’t get arrested for saying “Jesus is Lord” today. But we still face challenges: Where do our loyalties lie? A political party? A candidate? Social media tribes? Or with Jesus?
Let me tell you about my friend Michael. He works for a big corporation—glass offices, busy people always rushing around, chasing the next big project. One day, his colleagues asked him to "adjust" some numbers—nothing major, just "how things work." Michael told me that hel stared at his screen, thinking of his mortgage, his kids' college funds, the promotion he wanted. The pressure to conform, to play by the unspoken rules of success, was immense. But then, he thought about his faith. Not Sunday morning faith, but the kind that matters on Tuesday afternoons. He chose his faith over that promotion. It wasn’t easy, and it cost him some friendships. But, as he told me, "Every night, I look at my kids and know I’m teaching them something more valuable than success—I’m teaching them integrity." In a world that often prioritizes profit over principle, he chose what truly mattered.
When we vote, we’re not just picking teams like at a football game. We’re choosing how to love our neighbors—not just those like us, but all our neighbors.
I'm thinking of an elderly woman in this church. She’s lived in her house for fifty years. She remembers when the neighborhood was filled with young families, when the trees were small, and the houses were new. But now, her fixed income doesn’t stretch as far as it used to—property taxes rise, meds get more expensive. And it’s not just her. There’s also the young couple a few doors down, struggling to pay student loans, and the single mom across the street, working two jobs to make ends meet.
When I vote, I think about all of them. How would Jesus want me to love my neighbors. How can my choices help create a community where everyone can thrive?
Some might think that faith should be private, kept between an individual and God. But I say to you today, faith cannot be confined to the four walls of a church or the quiet corners of our hearts. Jesus never said, "Love your neighbor—but only on Sunday mornings." He never declared, "Feed the hungry and care for the sick—but leave it out of your public life." No, my friends, He called us to love at all times—in the streets, in our workplaces, in our relationships, and yes, in the voting booth. We must carry our faith into every sphere of our existence.
We must let faith be the lens through which we view every action, every choice, every moment. To live our faith is to weave it into the very fabric of our daily lives, into the decisions that shape not only our future but the future of our brothers and sisters around us. That is the kind of faith that transforms; that is the kind of faith that truly loves.
I heard a story recently that really stuck with me --about a community debating whether to build a homeless shelter downtown - you know the kind of debate I mean. We've all seen them in our own communities.
There were two men in the town- let's call them Robert and John - they had been friends for years. They went to the same church, their kids grew up together, they met for coffee every Thursday morning. But this issue drove them apart. Robert was deeply concerned about property values and neighborhood safety - he had valid worries about what might happen to the community his family had lived in for generations. John, on the other hand, was passionate about helping the homeless - he'd been volunteering at soup kitchens for years and had seen firsthand how much the shelter was needed.
What started as civil disagreement turned into something darker. They stopped meeting for coffee. They'd avoid each other at church. When they did see each other, the tension was so thick you could barely breathe. It was like watching a friendship of twenty years just... evaporate.
One day, after months of not speaking, Robert found himself driving past John's house. Without even really planning it, he pulled into the driveway. Walked up to the door. Knocked. When John opened it, Robert said five simple words that changed everything: "I miss my friend."
That's it. No agenda. No debate points. Just the truth that their friendship was worth more than being right. They ended up talking for hours that afternoon - not about winning arguments, but about understanding each other. About remembering who they were beneath their positions on this issue. They didn't end up agreeing about the shelter, but they found something more important: a way to love each other through their differences.
How do we stay true to our beliefs while loving those who see things differently? I say to you, Jesus was no stranger to disappointing political expectations. The zealots cried out for a leader who would overthrow Rome, but Jesus spoke instead of serving others. The religious leaders demanded strict adherence to rules, but Jesus broke bread with sinners.
The people longed for Him to be an earthly king, but He spoke of a kingdom not built by human hands. And so, I declare today that our unity cannot, and must not, be found in our voting record. Our unity is found in Christ. It is in His love, His grace, and His vision of a beloved community that transcends all earthly divisions.
Imagine if we could disagree but still see each other as brothers and sisters in Christ. Vote our conscience, yet love those who vote differently. Be passionate about justice, yet gentle with each other. We must ask ourselves, "How would Jesus have me treat the stranger, the outsider, the one who does not look like me, who does not think like me, who may not even love like me?"
When you step into that voting booth—and I urge each of you to do so—take your faith with you, not as a weapon of division but as a lens of love. Ask yourself, "How can my vote demonstrate the love of Christ to my neighbors? How can it uplift the downtrodden, embrace the marginalized, and serve the common good?" Then, vote your conscience, filled with love for your neighbor, and trust in God to guide the path forward.
Because at the end of the day, we're not just citizens of America—we're citizens of God’s kingdom. And in that kingdom, love always wins. Love conquers cowardice, dispels division, and builds bridges. It compels us to rise above fear, to embrace hope, and to build a world where justice flows like a mighty river.
So let us let us change the world—one courageous vote at a time.
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