When I shared my disillusion with my political party in light of Trump and the way many Christians I know personally view him not as “the lesser of two evils” but specifically as someone to defend, no matter what he does, I heard from a lot of people who certainly didn’t go that far, but who began using a few phrases over and again (different people).

He is a “broken vessel” that God is using.

He is a King Cyrus.

He is a King David.

Now, I’m a historical novelist. I get the need to liken what’s going on today to what has happened before. This is a legit way to view our current world, through that lens of history, and something I love to do myself. Which means that when I see claims like those above, I can’t help but look into them.

First, what’s the point of the claims? Universally, they’re to point out that God uses imperfect, broken humans to bring about His divine will. I think we can all agree on that, right? He absolutely does.

God used King Cyrus, a foreign king who did not believe in the One True God but respected Him and those who did, to end Israel’s exile. In this context, Cyrus was called “anointed” by God, even calling him “my shepherd.” This example absolutely shows us that God will use even unbelievers to further His apointed work for His people. I love that. Could God be doing that with Trump? He absolutely could.

Is He? I think that’s a separate question, which requires asking what the will of God is for America. Which is a rather big question, and one I’ll put a pin for later. 😉 But for the purposes of this conversation, I think we can grant that this is always a possibility–that God will use our leaders, whatever their faith or beliefs, for His purposes.

But let’s not forget that God also used the kings who led Israel into exile and called them anointed for His purpose too, like Nebechudnezzer. Sometimes, His purpose for those He loves is not just to “restore” but to “break.” Those kings, too, served part of His divine will–but it doesn’t mean that will is desirable, nor does it mean it wouldn’t have better to repent and avoid the exile. And it certainly doesn’t mean we’re obligated to agree with our leaders on things just because they’re our leaders.

Two sides, same coin. Which is right? I’m not here to say…just to ask the questions.

But…what about that King David one? This one is actually traced to prophecies claiming that Trump is God’s “new David.” This one I find much more troubling.

Because David was not anointed for his raw power. David was not anointed for his money. David was not anointed because he was a “winner.” David was anointed because he had a heart that always chased after God.

He faltered, failed, and sinned grievously, yes. He did the unthinkable. And when the prophet Nathan pointed it out to him, he repented. This is what marks the Davidic heart and anointing, in my opinion. NOT what he did–but how he sought God.

Is that what our leaders today are doing? Are they rending their garments when spiritual leaders point out their hypocrisy? Are they refusing to lift a hand against the previous leaders, also anointed by God (if we truly believe that passage from Romans 13 that say that ALL authority is put in place by God…which includes Biden, Obama, and Clinton)?

Which brings me to the broken vessels.

Does God use broken vessels? ABSOLUTELY, and I praise Him for that mercy. Because we’re all broken.

But here’s the thing–God does not leave us broken. When He pours His spirit into us, His vessels, the point is always to pour it back out onto those around us. When we’re broken, cracked, full of holes, that Spirit and its fruits can’t flow like it’s supposed to…it spills into the ground in waste. But we serve the Potter.

He mends us. Fixes us. Reshapes us. We may never reach perfection this side of heaven, but that doesn’t mean He expects us to remain in that cracked and broken state in which He finds us. Right? When we put ourselves into the Potter’s hands, we are trusting Him to make us into something new–a new vessel.

That’s the healing power of His love, of His mercy, of His grace. 

That’s the David spirit. 

So…again, is that what we’re seeing? First in ourselves–am I letting Him fix my broken places? Am I submitting to Him in humility? Am I putting myself in His hands and truly trusting Him to correct my vision where it’s wrong, to repent of my own bad behavior and sins, to be made into something new? Am I asking Him to point out the error in my assumptions and judgments?

Or am I clinging to my brokenness and even glorifying it? Am I proud to be judgmental? To be set in my ways? To be convinced I’m right? Am I more concerned about my vessel than the work it’s supposed to be doing? More focused on being one of those “for honor” than in the people I’m supposed to be serving?

The question always has to start with me–with us. And I am never going to say someone else is or is not a genuine Christian…but if they claim to speak for people of faith, I will look at their fruits, because that’s what we’re told to do, and decide whether I’ll align with them or not. Whether I will let them speak for me. Sometimes, you can see very clearly where those broken places are. I’m not saying to judge them for them. But I think we do need to ask ourselves what our lines are in those we support.

Yes, David was an adulterer and a murderer. Not marks in his favor. But he did repent. He did not claim that sin as a win.

When it comes to politics, we’re never going to have anything but broken vessels to choose between–we’re all just people, after all. All broken. But how do we determine which cracks we’re okay with and which we’re not? Are we honest enough to admit that it’s because of what they do for us?

And do we extend that same graceful analogy to those we don’t agree with? Do we say that God used Stalin and Hitler and Mao for His purposes too? Do we admit that sometimes His purposes are to test us, and sometimes He finds us lacking? That sometimes the leaders He puts in place are to shake us down? Sometimes, even, to see if we’ll follow a human leader above following God, like with the kings of old who led Israel into idolatry?

Does saying someone was anointed by God mean we don’t hold them accountable for their sins and failures, that we excuse anything they do as long as they fight for what we want? I don’t think it does. I think we’re called to answer to God above man, and that He is watching what we condone. I don’t believe the ends justify the means. I don’t believe the outcome is all that matters. I believe the how matters too, and that we can’t honestly say “I can’t stand before God if I voted for a baby-killer” and not also say, “I can’t stand before God if I voted for an adulterer” or “someone who refused to feed the poor” or “someone who said he refuses to forgive.” All of those are sins. What ranks one above another?

We are all broken vessels, our elected officials included. But are we content to stay that way? Or will we let the Spirit that He pours into us remake us…even when that means letting go of the sins we’ve clung to so fiercely, for so long?

Other Hard Topics Posts

Who should help the poor?

The Church? The State? Is it a mutually-exclusive thing?

What is the proper role of the government, according to biblical teaching?

Is it immoral to help the poor of other nations rather than focusing on your own?

These are all questions that have come up in the many conversations about hard topics that I’ve been involved in lately, and I think they’re really important questions to dig into.

So let’s start with the Scriptures. We know that the church is called upon to help those less fortunate. The most direct and straight from Jesus’s mouth is Matthew 25:31-46 (ESV). I’m not going to quote the whole long passage here, but rather focus on a few key parts.

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. ³² Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. ³³ And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left. ³⁴ Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. ³⁵ For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, ³⁶ I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’

First, something jumped out at me recently that hadn’t before, and it’s that Jesus calls together all the nations. Now, yes, whenever “all the nations” are discussed in the Bible, it just means “all people.” But we also know that Scripture has layers, and that nations struck me recently. He judges us individually, separating us out from those “nations,” but that’s still where we start. Each nation will have sheep and goats within it. Those who did His will and those who didn’t.

And He clearly charges us here with taking care of the “least of these.” Feeding those who are hungry. Giving drink to the thirsty. Welcoming the stranger. Clothing the naked. Visiting the sick. Going to those in prison.

I don’t know about you, but I need to really take a look at those things and asking myself if I’m doing them. Am I feeding the hungry, or am I judging them for not going out and earning their own bread? Am I giving drink to the thirsty, or do I assume they’re drunkards? Am I welcoming the stranger, or am I calling him “other” and turning away in fear or disdain? Am I clothing the naked or proclaiming them indecent? Am I visiting the sick or saying they’re getting their just deserts by not living healthy lives? Am I going to those who have been arrested for breaking the law and ministering to them, or am I judging them as garbage and claiming I’m carrying out divine justice?

I don’t know about you, but I fall woefully short. One of my few excuses is that I support people who do these things more directly. Is that enough? I don’t honestly know. So I focus on who God puts before me, the opportunities He gives, the responsibilities He’s given me. And I also admit my own situation–I am a cancer patient who is one of the sick right now. That hinders what I can do in this season. I trust that my God of grace will be merciful, as long as my heart seeks to do these things, and as long as I don’t turn away from them.

But that has led me to another new question.

See, I’ve been involved in many conversations in the Church where we asked, “Who should care for the poor? The Church, right? Not the government. It should be our responsibility.”

I think the answer to this is definitely a “Yes” on “The Church should.” The Church absolutely should care for the poor.

But does that mean the government shouldn’t? Jesus himself doesn’t get into what the government should or should not do, but we know from the Old Testament that Israelite kings were judged based on how they cared for the poor. And when Paul is listing the duties of a government, I think we have to grant the list is NOT exhaustive. He mentions specifically in Romans 13:

• Rulers are a terror to bad conduct, not to good
• Has the right to punish bad behavior
• Collect taxes
• Ensure order

This also follows Romans 12, in which Paul exhorts the Roman church to live at peace with everyone, as much as is possible. To outdo each other in respect and love and to always bless those who persecute them, to bless and not curse. He is speaking to a people who have no active role in the government, who are solely subject to it. He does not ever tell Romans to expose their children, as the pagans do. To obey the Roman law to acknowledge Caesar as divine. And so on. He is very clear that we need to obey God above man, when the two are in conflict. Nor does he ever say it’s bad for the government to help people who are vulnerable…he was simply addressing Christians living in a time and place where the government didn’t.

But would Jesus ever look at us and say, “You can feed the poor, you churchgoer–but you, you government agent, you can’t”? Would He say, “It’s okay to give money to the church to do it” but “It’s not okay that the government spends money on it”?

We are compelled to pay our taxes–Paul and Jesus both say so. Should we object if that money goes to help others? (This takes on even deeper meaning to me when I ask that question, like last week, of “Are we a Christian nation?” If I believe we are, shouldn’t I then believe it’s my country’s job to live this out too?)

And what if that aid isn’t for our own citizens, but others?

Again, there are Scriptures that tell us we should not neglect the care of our own. And there are Scriptures that praise the Churches of the New Testament for rendering aid to foreign churches, even from their lack and definitely from their abundance. But Paul never speaks to the authorities. Does that mean they should not aid others?

And are we neglecting our own if we do so? Or are we trying to do both?

If I’m approaching this question from a “Kingdom of God First” perspective, rather than a “nation first” perspective, the answer looks simple to me (though of course, I know that carrying it out is complicated). It looks like I’d always err on the side of doing good, of helping the poor of the world, of ministering to the least of these, whether the agency that does that on the ground is sent by my Church or my government. I believe people can serve God both from religious and non-religious organizations. I don’t think a nation will ever be judged harshly for doing so.

I also understand that from the “nation first” perspective, people see it differently. That we need to protect Americans first, focus on our own. I get those that say the Church needs to be the ones doing these good things–and agree. We do. But again, is it exclusive? As the most abundant country on earth, can we do both? Like those New Testament churches, would we not be praised for helping the needy around the world while we take care of our own?

As my husband and I talk through these things, as we talk about programs that don’t have enough funding for those who are entitled to it as Americans because non-citizens have found a way to use the programs too, I always start from the standpoint of “Well the system needs fixed, then, to keep them out.” And then my husband, who is always the prodder, will ask, “Is it ever wrong to feed people?” And I pause. Is it? Is it ever wrong to feed people?

In early Christian writings like the letters of Clement of Alexandria, the early church was dealing with these very issues. They made a premise of generosity and hospitality, and there were people who took advantage of that. So do you know what the advice was to those churches? Clement advises that it’s better to give generously to those who are undeserving than to risk hardening our hearts against those who are deserving; recognizing that we can’t always be sure. We’re assured that God will never judge us harshly for our generosity–though He may judge those who ask when they don’t need it. That’s for Him to do. Our primary concern ought to be making sure our own hearts are soft and receptive as we deal with “the least of these.”

Are they? I know mine hasn’t always been, and that’s something I continually work through. 

I know, of course, there are limits–limited funding, limited resources, limited manpower. There are always limits when we put feet to the Gospel. And so, priorities have to be made. And when priorities have to be made, you can bet that people will argue about it. This is reality.

But maybe, if we can remember that helping others is ALWAYS good, we can reintroduce some civility into the debate of how best to live that out. Maybe we can remember that God loves them as much as He loves us. And maybe that will help us view the questions a bit differently.

Other Hard Topics Posts

Is America a Christian nation?

This is an assertion I have seen from Christians on both sides of the political spectrum today, and I think it’s a question we need to truly examine, since I have heard many people use the claim that we are as reasons why the government should do one thing or another. And as a historian, this statement has always bothered me. But perhaps that’s because I’m not sure what we really mean when we say it.

Let me start by saying I am a Christian, I am very much in favor of Christian ideals and beliefs, I believe in the sacred, and I am in favor of laws that respect and promote that. Let me also say that I believe Christianity has been the greatest influencer of what we now term “Western ideals.” It is because of many centuries of Christendom spreading that we have so many ideas, today, about what is right and wrong–for instance, children and the helpless needing protecting. Ideals that were absolutely foreign to, say, Ancient Rome, where orphans and unwanted babies were left at the city gates to die. (As one example.)

Historically speaking, most European countries were officially “Christian nations,” with a state religion. France was (still technically is) Catholic, as was Belgium and Monaco and Malta. England began that way and then went through its religious upheaval and named the Church of England as its state religion. Denmark and Iceland are both Lutheran. Greece is Orthodox. And so on.

Looking at Great Britain specifically, since that’s the nation the US declared its independence from, it was a big deal that it had a state religion–because that meant the king was the head of that state religion, it’s official “defender of the faith.” It meant that if you did not agree with that state religion, you could be legally persecuted and prosecuted. When the Pilgrims came to America for religious freedom, it wasn’t that long since priests and other Catholics who had refused to convert were literally being hanged for the crime of being Catholic. It was a terrifying era to believe something different from your neighbors…and those neighbors were usually the ones to turn you in. (Let’s also note that things have changed quite a bit across the pond since those days!)

When our Founders declared independence from Great Britain and began to dream up what this new nation “conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal” would be like, religion was something they specifically addressed. We sum it up today with the term “religious freedom,” and have adopted the phrase “the separation of Church and State.”

What does it mean though?

In a nutshell, it means that the United States government has no right to tell anyone how to believe, what to believe, or to legislate one doctrine over another. It means, according to Article VI, Clause 3 of the United States Constitution, that “no religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States.” Which means you cannot be refused the right to run for office because you are Catholic or Muslim or Baptist or Scientologist or atheist or anything else.

I need to point this out, because I’ve seen some real-life friends sharing posts and memes alleging that there was a 1950s law forbidding Muslims to run for office, which was quietly repealed in the 1990s by Democrats. Let me do a bit of fact-checking for you here and assure you this was never a law–it is blatantly, 100% untrue and it would be 100% unconstitutional. The law quoted is the McCarran-Walter Act of 1952, which dealt with immigration quotas from certain world regions (specifically with quotas on Asian nations). Never was there a mention of those immigrant groups being unable to hold office once naturalized, or for their children to be unable to. So let’s just put that one to bed, since it’s not opinion, it’s fact. 😉

So what does this religious freedom that our founders made law mean for us today?

This, I think, is where we need to have conversation. Especially as the term “Christian Nationalism” has become popular and often misunderstood. Because how could it be a bad thing to love both Christ and your nation, right?

Here’s my historian perspective again on how the United States was very deliberately set up. Let’s go from there. 😉

First, my personal opinion on what makes the setup of the US so great. Our documents explicitly state that we are “endowed by our Creator with certain inalienable rights.”

This is more than just important. This is HUGE. As of the time of our framing, this was unheard of. It was always, always, always the state which granted rights. By attributing the origins of these rights to the Creator, that means that the State has no right to take them away. That the state cannot declare one person deserving of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, and others not deserving of it. It means that in the eyes of God, we are all equal, and the State’s job is to preserve that.

This is, in my opinion, the most Christian stance we can ever take–and that way, America is ABSOLUTELY a Christian nation, because it’s founded on Christian freedom. Because our foundational ideals recognize that we are all made in God’s image, that we should all be treated with dignity and respect and equality. Even those who don’t believe as we do. Christianity did not spread in those early centuries by fighting for it with sword and spear, nor by legislating itself–Christianity spread by showing love no matter what. By believers singing their way onto the floor of the arena before death and offering forgiveness to their persecutors.

In the early years of America, between the Declaration and the Constitution, especially, there were many motions to declare Christianity to be the official religion. And every time, it was rejected. Because already there were so many different “flavors” of Christianity represented…and those different kinds weren’t often in agreement and sometimes questioned each other’s validity. But the freedom to choose which to believe, or whether to believe, was critical to our Founding Fathers…many of whom were Deists. That means that they believed in a Creator, but not a personal God who cared about your life now.

So should we be a Christian nation?

Again, my personal opinion here. I pray we are a nation with many Christians. I am glad we are a nation founded with many Christian ideals built into our laws, because those ideals are what extend to equality to all, even beyond the Church. I absolutely believe we as a nation should live out that Christian freedom, offered freely to all. But I would never want America to declare itself a Christian nation, because when faith and power merge, there is always compromise…and historically, that compromise has always been to faith. I do not want our president to be “the defender of faith” in our land, like the king is in England, because defending one religion means being offensive against another, and that flies in the face of religious freedom.

But my thoughts go a little deeper there. The more I’ve learned about Christianity, the more I realize that it, unlike Judaism, is not meant to be a religion for a nation. Jesus very specifically and carefully broke down those barriers by offering salvation to Gentiles. He spoke not to a nation, but to individuals. He came to offer redemption to sinners and outcasts and those shunned by the Law.

He did not come to establish a new government. He did not take a crown. He did not even take over the Jewish temple. He came to show people how to love God and serve Him and become an heir to His kingdom, which is not an earthly one, but a heavenly one that can exist within any other kingdom, if it first exists in our hearts and souls. He teaches us to be meek, to be radical peacemakers, to choose Him over family, over community, over our own cultural religions, and in the face of our government too.

We’ve all read the verse in Acts about where the term “Christian” originated. What I hadn’t fully understood until recently was that, because Roman citizens were legally obliged to recognize Caesar as divine, to call oneself a Christian in Antioch was to admit to being a dissident, a rebel. Christians were not just saying “I reject your pantheon of Gods” they were saying “I reject the idea that my king is my god.” That was punishable by death. And they embraced that label, even knowing where it could lead.

But once Christianity gained power, that’s when we begin to see Crusades and Inquisitions, wars between different Christian sects even, with believers killing each other because they weren’t worshiping “right.”

Is that what we want Christianity–our Christianity–to be?

I don’t. And that’s why Christian Nationalism has for over a decade sent my “spidey-senses” tingling. Again, this is just me, my opinion, and my own experience.

So what is Christian Nationalism? A concise definition is this: Christian Nationalism is the belief that a nation’s identity, laws, and political power should be explicitly Christian—and that this is God’s will for the state.

That means that the state should enforce Christianity. It means that there could (and many say “should”) be laws prohibiting other religions, or at least denying them certain rights. It means that there is an equivalency between “loving God” and “loving your country.” And particularly in the US today, I’ve seen many, many examples where people claim that America has a special covenant with God that equates America with the Church–that the fall of America would be the End Times, that everything spoken to “the church” in the New Testament is specifically for America.

Now, don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with loving your country. Just as we love our communities, our sports teams, our neighborhoods, our states, our anything-else. But as C. S. Lewis puts it in The Four Loves, we must always remember that every other person in every other country loves his country in the same way, and he isn’t wrong to do so. Christian Nationalism equates patriotism with virtue, saying that it is virtuous to love your particular country above other countries.

But we must remember that love of country has to come below love of God. And we certainly have to remember that when the writers of the New Testament are speaking to the Church, they are speaking to believers all around the world, throughout time. Not just us today in America. We have to remember that countries full of Christians, even Christian nations, have risen and fallen and not brought about the End of Days. God has a plan and special love for America, absolutely–but He also has a plan and special love for Haiti, for Somalia, for Canada, for Greenland, for Belgium, for France, for Venezuela, for Uganda, for…you get the idea. God loves without borders. Christ wiped away the distinctions between nations. We’re told there’s no more Jew or Gentile in Him–those are national barriers, friends. There is no American or Canadian in Him. There is no Somalian or Venezuelan.

This, to me, was a critical reframing. I had to reach a point in my own life where I really did value my citizenship in heaven ABOVE any citizenship on earth. That means that I must choose God’s way above the American way. I must view my brothers and sisters in Christ all around the world as my true brothers and sisters, even above physical neighbors.

There are no national borders in the love of Christ.

So if we are a Christian nation…then aren’t we obliged to recognize that? If we claim to be a Christian nation, doesn’t that mean the nation is held to Christian standards of love and giving and sacrifice and a recognition of equality? And yet those I see claiming the Conservatives, for instance, are defenders of the faith, are the same ones who say it’s not the country’s job to do any of those things. In which case…what does it mean, then? That’s my genuine question. If it’s not a Christian nation’s job to behave like Christians, then what is its job?

Just last week, I saw someone on Facebook claim that immigrants weren’t his neighbors, that only American Christians were. And I was boggled. Because in that “love your neighbor” parable about the Good Samaritan, Jesus deliberately chose the immigrant neighbors that Jews hated as his example of who our neighbor truly is. Samaritans were half-Jew, half-Assyrian, a people literally sent in by the oppressor to take over a land and destroy the Jewish culture by combining it with Assyrian culture.

And Jesus says that the Samaritan who sees a person as a person is one’s true neighbor.

He also says we cannot serve two masters. He’s speaking specifically about money in that conversation, yes. Though the connection between money and power is rather well established, so I don’t think it’s a huge leap to say that we cannot both put God first and power first…which is what any “nationalism” seeks to do.

There are absolutely those who serve their nations from a heart of service. And there are absolutely those who serve their nation in order to put their own will upon the people, to gain power. And I would go a step further and say that anyone who equates a political party with Christianity has also made a mistake, because Christ does not belong to one party any more than He belongs to one nation.

Again, I do NOT think this means that we can’t love our country–of course we can! It doesn’t mean we can’t vote our conscience–of course we should! It doesn’t mean we don’t want to see an awakening–of course we do! And it certainly doesn’t mean that if enough Christians are voting their conscience, we wouldn’t see laws that reflect Christian ideals–of course we would!

But it is my prayer that these reflections would be truly Christian–seeking to promote peace, to promote care of those less fortunate, to guarantee equality, to see the value in every person. Not to be self-serving, self-seeking, power-grabbing, or seek to exclude those who are different out of fear of them.

And yes, this is dangerous. Democracy is dangerous. It has an Achilles heel built into it, which is why the ancients observe that democracy is doomed to devolve into tyranny, and from tyranny into anarchy. And that weakness is this: democracy can die very easily in the ballot box, when people choose to give power to someone (either person or party) who seeks to destroy that very thing that gave it to them.

And this fear is one I’m seeing today on both sides. Some who fear it’s what Trump is doing. Others who fear it’s what “invaders” are doing.

Are we right to fear? And if so, what is the correct response? Is it to double down and give all the power to those who will keep it from the ones we fear most…or is to reinstate a balance of power?

What everyone I’ve talked to lately agrees on is that America is at a tipping point, and disaster looms before us. The sides disagree on whether this danger is from without (Muslim immigrants and drug cartels being the main ones I’ve seen, some people claiming an overlap), or from within (the current administration’s tactics, policies, and refusal to concede the Legislative and Judicial branches their rightful power).

Within this context, I think asking if we’re a Christian nation is important. And more, asking what it would mean to be one. Would it mean imposing Christ on others? Or would it mean granting freedom to all?

Other Hard Topics Posts

As I was having those big conversations a couple weeks ago, the thing that led me to say, “Okay, maybe I need to be the one to foster this, or at least try,” was that many, many, MANY people commented or messaged specifically to thank me for the way I was engaging and hence modeling for others how to engage. Hundreds of people told me that this thing I was doing was unusual…and necessary, and needed.

I don’t have a communication degree. But what I do have is training in classical conversation. The first things we were taught at St. John’s College were “how to ask a question” and “how to talk about the answers with people not like you.” There were ground rules, rules which allowed people from the most diverse backgrounds to engage on a topic without devolving into name-calling or falling into sheer chaos.

And the more I’m out in the world away from St. John’s, the more I realize these things are not taught to everyone. But that doesn’t mean we can’t still learn them. =)

In those social media conversations, I quickly fell into a pattern in my responses, and that pattern served me well. More, it was easily distillable. And also easily picked up on. I noticed others in the comment section very quickly mirroring the pattern, and when they did, hostilities cooled. Conversations stayed rational and heartfelt. There was no bullying in those threads. And something that greatly flattered me was that when I saw things they were posting that day or in the ones to follow, they kept that same approach.

Because it works. It’s not that it’s ground-breaking. It’s just that it was a very simple thing we don’t always think to do.

As I was thinking about the rules of engagement and moderation for the Common Room, writer-me couldn’t resist coming up with some alliteration for the ideas I’d been using. And I think they’re pretty useful guides for any time we find ourselves in a conversation with someone who isn’t 100% like us. (So, you know…most of them.) So here you have them. My 4 Gs of real conversation.

1. Grace

No one is on the same journey. And even when we are, we’re not in the same place on it. I can remember when I didn’t think the way I think now, when I hadn’t had come to conclusions I’ve since come to. Which is to say,  I’ve been wrong about things before.

I bet you have too.

And here’s the thing–that’s okay. Just like we need to offer ourselves grace for not knowing then what we know now, so too do we need to offer grace for wherever other people are. Even when we don’t get how they could not see something. Even when they should know better.

And there’s more to it even than that–we shouldn’t assume bad motives. We shouldn’t assume anything. We don’t know, when someone simply states their opinion as fact, what led them to that. We don’t know the hurts they’ve gone through. And we don’t know what they’re going through right now.

When people send me a huffing note about something I forgot to do and I say, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I was getting a chemo infusion when your email came in, and it slipped my mind,” I am absolutely asking, Will you give me a little grace? And in that situation, they do, because it’s so OBVIOUS, right?

But here’s the thing. The less obvious is no less deserving. We are all desperate for grace. I know I am…and so, I will offer to you what I hope to receive from you. And in every conversation, we should do the same.

Assuming the best about people. When you start there, you’ll naturally avoid a lot of potholes in your conversation.

2. Gratitude

Sharing your heart in a climate of attack takes courage. Even weighing into a conversation with vitriol indicates a passion for a subject. As an author, I deal with complaint mail (I won’t call it “hate mail,” because it isn’t hate, but I certainly have my fair share of people who “felt compelled to write to let you know that I didn’t like your last book”), so I’ve had some practice in how to reply. And it all stems from Dale Carnegie’s advice in How to Win Friends and Influence People. And that is this: thank them.

Thank them for the time they took to write to you or to comment or for showing up to a verbal conversation. Thank them for caring so much that they’d speak. Thank them for being honest and vulnerable. Thank them for hearing you out.

When we thank someone, we are immediately saying, “I recognize that you’re a person, and that you have something to contribute.” Our emotional, knee-jerk reaction to what they say should be irrelevant when it comes to that fact. Thank them–and mean it. Train yourself to take a step back and recognize what’s at stake for the other person. Once in a while, someone’s just a jerk who enjoys making people mad. But most of the time, that’s not what’s driving someone.

And once you thank someone (genuinely), you’ll see an immediate shift. Because when we’re (genuinely) thanked for something, we shift immediately out of offensive mode. We think, Oh, they hear me. They appreciate me. They recognize my heart. And suddenly they’re ready to recognize yours too. 

This is so simple–and so profound. And so incredibly important.

Now, obviously if you’re involved in a long conversation, you’re not going to start every response with “Thank you for sharing that with me.” But it is important to recognize when someone takes a risk in opening up and recognize that. To be trusted with someone’s heart is a precious thing. Don’t squander it.

3. Gentleness

As per my post “A Soft Answer,” it turns out Solomon was onto something (Proverbs 15:1). A soft answer really does turn away wrath. When we set aside defensiveness and the need to win and instead focus on understanding, when we answer anger with gentleness and kindness, tempers come down.

Responding to something with gentleness does not mean you agree with what they said. It does mean you agree that are a beloved child of God, just like you.

Let’s not forget that this is listed as one of the Fruits of the Spirit, and it’s also what Jesus teaches in His radical “turn the other cheek/go the extra mile” teaching.

Do not meet anger with anger. Do not meet force with force. Give kindness and gentleness instead. Quite often, it will change the tenor of the conversation.

And you know what? Even if it doesn’t, it will change the tenor of your own heart. And that matters too.

4. (Common) Ground

Yes, I’m cheating with this “G” by adding a C-word in front of it. Indulge me. 😉 Because this, also, is huge. 

Find the common ground. You have it. I promise. There are no two people on earth without something in common, and if you can find that in a heated conversation, you’re well on your way to making a friend. And I don’t mean interrupt a diatribe with “What’s your favorite color? Maybe we have that in common.” I mean actually look at the things they’re saying and find the common ground. Find something to agree on.

More often than not, we’re all starting from the same core principles. We all want safety and security, we all want dependable and fair laws, we all want good for our children, we all want fair treatment for and from our neighbors. It isn’t the what we disagree on–it’s the how. We disagree on the best way to achieve good things, but that just means you might need to strip away all the “trimmings” and look to the heart of the issue.

“I can absolutely agree that we don’t want rapists and murderers on the street.”

“I think you’re right that federal law enforcement needs to follow the law too.”

“I’m also an advocate for safety for our children.”

And so on. Start there. Acknowledge how they feel and why they feel it. Respect where they are (even if you don’t agree with it). And then explain your own point of view. And if you really want to make it approachable, share it not as the conclusion you’ve come to, but as the place you are through a journey. 

“You know, I used to think that too. And then as I dug deeper, I started to ask these questions. [Share the questions that made you look deeper.] It’s tough, you know? Because I still believe in that core ideal. But I struggle with how to reconcile it with these other things. Which is what led me to this position today.”

You know what usually follows? “Yeah, I get that. I ask those questions to.” Or maybe, “Huh, I’ve never thought of it that way. I’m going to have to ponder that.”

Now, here’s the thing–that line of conversation doesn’t work if you’ve never examined our own ideas or come to where you are. If you’re arguing “that’s the way it is” without nuance, chances are pretty good that you’re never going to convince someone…because they clearly aren’t where you are now, and they can’t just be there. Which means sometimes, you’re just going to have to do that examination there, with them. Ask questions–not bullying ones, not accusatory ones, but genuine ones. “I’ve seriously never considered that before. Can you explain your thoughts to me more? Can we dig a little deeper? The thing that immediately comes to mind is this [state your rebuttal], can you help me reconcile that with your position?”

When we remember our 4 Gs, when we treat our interlocutors with respect and dignity, when we treat them as we want to be treated in the conversation, amazing things happen. We actually learn from each other. We understand the other side better, and hence our own too. We plumb new depths. We build new bridges.

And we make new friends. That right there isn’t nothing. That’s one of the most important “somethings” you can ever expect of a conversation.

What follows is the post I made on Facebook on January 17. I want to introduce it here a bit to clarify a few things. First, this was addressed specifically to real-life friends who defend everything Trump does and believe his “rough edges” are in fact good things. I have many friends who voted for Trump as what they perceived as the lesser of two evils, and while I am SO grateful for their perspectives too, if you do not self-identify as MAGA, then chances are good you are not the ones I was specifically speaking to. 😉 Even so, I want to share my own perspective and invite yours, because your matters–whether you were my “target audience” here or not.

Unlike the Facebook post, which got TOTALLY out of hand, I intend to moderate any comments here completely, which means things that show the commenter to be mildly-upset will be let through but I reserve the right to chime in to invite you to see a different perspective (you don’t have to agree with it, but please try to understand it, if you’re engaging), and shouting or name-calling comments will either not be approved to begin with or be deleted as soon as I see them). And if you just don’t want to comment at all, I get. If this comment sections remains a ghost-town, that’s fine. 😉

I also want to take a moment to note that this was my first (and perhaps last, LOL) viral post on social media. It got about 800K views by the time I’m posting this, with a little under 3K comments (this number includes comments on shares, not just on my post itself on my page), and over 400 shares. Way higher than anything I’d seen before. And while I know it only did that because it was dealing with political things, I am still grateful that my “once in a lifetime” viral post was on something that matters and not a cat video. 😉 (I’m not dissing cat videos. I love them.) I also want to note that I’m blown away by the number of international viewers who reached out privately and/or commented, most of whom had no idea how I ended up in their feed. But I saw people from England, Scotland, Denmark, Australia, Germany, Sweden, and New Zealand…and there were several who mentioned being not-US but whose country of origin I didn’t actually see.

Which I mention solely because they all said that this conversation–not the viewpoints, but the fact that we were having an earnest conversation–was the first thing they’d seen out of the US to give them hope that we’ll survive this current storm. That touched me. And gave me hope too.

One final note–that I’m adding some notes. Footnote style. Just things to provide you with the source to which I’m referring. If I’m bringing them up, it’s because it was part of the conversation I’ve had in years past with people who matter to me on these subjects. I’m not claiming you, particularly, claim them. Rather, I’m claiming that they’re part of what I was told. (I did not include these in the original post for the sake of length.)

~*~

Hey, MAGA friends—do you have a minute? I need to talk through some things.

The last couple nights, I’ve been lying awake, honestly upset to the point of tears, after seeing some memes and posts shared here (edited to add: these were not worried, anxious thoughts and tears. They were tears of sorrow, and this “upset” led to a burden to put words to it…and when Roseanna the Writer feels a burden to words to something, she inevitably ends up doing it in the middle of the night, LOL)¹. And I need to hear your actual thoughts so I avoid making any wrong assumptions. I want to say this clearly up front: I love you. In real life, you’re my family, my friends, my neighbors, my book-club people. You matter to me. Your viewpoints matter to me.

I usually live by “don’t talk politics, and for the love of all that’s holy, don’t argue on Facebook.” But I think we’re past the point where that works. I don’t understand some things, and I suspect you don’t fully understand my perspective either. I genuinely believe we’d all be better off if we talked—really talked. If Facebook isn’t the place, fair enough. Email me. Call me. Let’s even get dinner with the goal of having these conversations. Because they’re important.

I need to be honest: when it comes to our current political situation, I feel betrayed. Many of you are the people who raised me, who taught me how to follow Christ. You’re my people. (And for context, if you don’t know me in real life, I’m the stereotypical Conservative Christian woman—I’m a white, rural Republican from West Virginia. I hold traditional views on marriage and gender. I’ve been married 25 years. I homeschooled. I don’t drink, curse, or do drugs.)²

And I am deeply dismayed.

You taught me in the ’90s not to trust politicians without character. You taught me that a man who lies, mocks, and disgraces his office should not lead.³ You taught me to vote my conscience—which is why I didn’t vote for Trump, even back in 2016. Back then, many of you said, “He’s a baby Christian.”⁴

That was nearly a decade ago.

True new Christians grow—remember that parable about the seed and the soil? You taught me the fruits of the Spirit to watch for—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.⁵ Please help me understand: do you honestly see those fruits being modeled now? Not just by the president, but by the broader movement? I see crosses worn publicly and prayers posted online—but I also see open contempt, hatred, mockery, aggression, pride, and a startling lack of self-control.

Don’t tell me you’re a Christian with your T-shirts or jewelry. Show me you’re a Christian by your love.

Which brings me to what started all of this: how we’re talking about immigrants.

One of you shared a meme saying you voted for Trump to “take out the trash.” Please—help me understand. Are we talking about people? Because the kind of things we throw away as trash are rotten, disgusting, beyond worth. And even if you mean “unnecessary clutter,” I don’t believe you would ever look a person in the eye and tell them they’re unnecessary.

Yet we’re saying it about an entire group.

I’ve heard it said: “If they’re here legally, they’re fine. If not, they’re criminals and they’ve got to go.” But here’s the problem—the government keeps changing what ‘legal’ means. People who entered the country lawfully, under one administration’s rules, have had their status revoked by another’s executive order. Refugees. Families. People still in active legal processes with legal statuses.⁶

Are they suddenly “trash”?

I know we all agree violent criminals shouldn’t be on the streets. That’s not the debate. The issue is the use of blanket terms. It’s shifting laws. It’s a system that punishes people who followed the rules—and then calling concern about that “fake news” and “the liberal agenda.” I’m not liberal by any stretch of the imagination—and please don’t even DARE suggest I don’t know how to read and research. If you know me even a little, you know them be fightin’ words to a historical novelist. 😉

And here’s the thing: I don’t think we actually disagree on whether innocent people being brutalized is wrong. I think we agree it would be horrific—if it’s true. The question is whether we’re willing to believe uncomfortable truths, or whether we drown them out because they don’t fit our narrative. History gives us sobering examples of what happens when Christians choose the latter.

I’ll offer this about myself, since I’m asking for honesty from you. Last year, when Roe was overturned, I went looking for data to prove my side right. Instead, I found evidence that strict abortion laws increase abortions. I didn’t like it—but I had to reckon with it. I didn’t change my belief that life is sacred. I changed my conclusion about the system I thought would protect it.⁷

That’s what I’m asking for here—not a change of core values, but a willingness to examine whether the systems we support are actually producing the good we say we want.

I am not here to pick a fight. Conflict literally makes me feel sick to my stomach, and I’ve got enough of that dealing with chemo. 😉 I’m here because I believe something is broken in the unity of the Church, and I don’t think silence fixes it.

I believe we still share core principles. I believe our disagreements are about how to live them out. And I believe we owe it to each other—as Christians, as friends, as family—to talk honestly, humbly, and without name-calling or fear.

I’ve laid my heart on the table. Please tell me where I’ve misunderstood you. Please correct me where I’m wrong. Let’s start a real conversation—and see where we can go from here.

Footnotes:

¹ See my post “A Time to Speak” (https://www.roseannamwhite.com/2026/01/a-time-to-speak.html)

² To be totally accurate, this is my “historical” place, where I’m coming from, what informs and shapes my opinions. Because of what I go on to explain, I’ve undergone a lot of change. And am really just trying to disentangle my identity from ANY identity politics. Again, see the same post mentioned above.

³ I was born in 1982, so the “era” I best remember from my childhood is the Clinton era. In my particular circles, I remember many conversations about how a president should not even let himself be impeached but should rather resign if it comes down to that, to keep from disrespecting the office of President. That it didn’t matter what Clinton did for the economy, because he was not a man of character. As I approached my eighteenth year (in 2000, if you don’t feel like doing the math) when I would register to vote, I had been 100% taught to vote my conscience based not just on political issues but on the politicians. Not because any political candidate would ever be perfect (we all know that’s impossible), but because someday I will have to stand before God and answer for what my vote supported and what they did as public servants. Yeah, it’s a lot of pressure, LOL.

⁴ “James Dobson Says Paula White Led Donald Trump to Jesus Christ” (https://www.christianpost.com/news/james-dobson-says-paula-white-led-donald-trump-to-jesus-christ.html) This article was quoted as the reason many people I know in real life felt “permission” to vote for Trump.

⁵ In Matthew 7:16-20, Jesus tells us we will know believers by the fruit they produce. In Galatians 5:22-23, Paul lists that fruit.

⁶ Sharing statements from a Christian ministry devoted to refugees that a trusted friend has volunteered with in Minneapolis, Arrive Ministries. This is their Jan 20, 2026 post.

⁷ I talk a bit more in-depth about this in my post “Grappling.” https://www.roseannamwhite.com/2025/05/grappling.html